Fan Fic and More

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER TWENTY




September 8, 2000, 11:30 p.m.

Evans residence







"Speak of the devil," Michael muttered in disgust as Diane Evans hovered quizzically on the porch. "Like I said...soccer moms."

"We don't play soccer," Isabel said acidly, "not that I wouldn't mind using your head for a ball. And don't you dare blame my mother—you just made enough noise to wake the entire neighborhood!"

"We don't have time for this," Tess protested.

"You think?" Michael demanded. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you grabbed the wheel and—"

"Max!" Isabel said. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

Max climbed out of the jeep and leaned against it, his legs burning, the ragged pain in his chest only just beginning to subside. He felt sluggish, like he was moving through water, like life was pushing back. He'd sat in the back seat in a daze on the way over, rejoining the world only briefly when he'd heard Michael's voice rising, although he still wasn't sure why. But seeing his house, seeing his mother watching with concern only yards from the window Nasedo had fallen through on his way to his death, had the effect of being splashed in the face with cold water. She mustn't go in there. He could tell from her demeanor that she had no idea what lay on the floor of her son's bedroom, and he was determined to keep it that way, which is why he'd ignored the current argument and climbed out...only to find he had no idea what to say.

"Hey, Mom," Isabel said awkwardly, having appeared on the other side of the jeep. "Did we wake you?"

"Izzie?" Diane said, the concern in her voice floating across the yard. "Uh...no, I was awake, but...what's wrong? Max, I thought you'd gone to bed. Why did you go out again?"

Why, indeed? Max thought as four pairs of eyes stared at him, one puzzled, the other three in shock. He'd just jumped out with no idea how he was going to explain the fact that he was standing in the driveway after he'd said good night to her, and Isabel appeared similarly tongue-tied. Thank goodness he'd had a shirt in the jeep or he'd be tongue-tied in his skivvies with a lot more to explain.

A door opened behind him. "Mrs. Evans, I'm so sorry," Tess said. "I called Max because I was...I was having a bit of a problem, and he was kind enough to come right over."

Diane pondered that for a moment. "A problem so bad that you couldn't talk on the phone?"

"I know," Tess said, not missing a beat, just the right note of contrition in her voice. "I just...it's just easier to say some things face to face, and...well...it's hard being new," she went on, a catch in her voice. "I told you we always moved around a lot, but this time...for some reason, it's harder this time. I know I shouldn't have dragged him out of bed, and I'm really sorry, but…"

Tess paused, her voice faltering...and Diane melted. "Oh, sweetheart!" she said soothingly, coming down off the porch, "it's me who's sorry! Come in and tell me all about it. Would you like some tea? Or hot chocolate, maybe?"

"That would be great, thanks," Tess said, adding a quick swipe at her eyes to great effect as Diane threw an arm around her, guiding her toward the front door and virtually ignoring the rest of them.

"She's good," Isabel allowed.

"Speak for yourself," Michael muttered from the driver's seat.

"Michael, get out of the car," Max said. "We're going in."

"How do you think we're—"

"I said get out."

Fully awake now, and more than fully aware of their peril, Max fixed his eyes on Michael, who looked at Isabel, who raised her eyebrows. Max headed for the house with Isabel following and Michael spitting things under his breath it would probably be better he didn't hear. "Max, Izzie, I'm going to throw some hot water on," Diane said when she saw them. "Want something?"

"Goodness, what's this?" another voice said. "It looks like Grand Central in here."

"Grandma?" Isabel said. "Grandpa? What are you doing here?"

"She had to pee," Grandpa Anthony said helpfully, "and it was a long way home. And your mother was up."

"But I didn't see your car," Isabel said.

"We parked on the street," Grandpa explained. "We didn't want to wake your mother if she was already asleep."

"No shit," Michael said under his breath as Isabel glared at him.

"I'm so glad I was up," Diane said. "Tess, here, is new in town and having some difficulties," she explained to Grandma Dee. "I was just going to make some tea or hot chocolate so she could tell us all about it."

" 'Us'?" Grandma Dee said. "Why would she want to tell 'us'? I imagine she wants to talk to the rest of them."

"She said that would be great," Diane protested.

"Well, of course she did," Grandma said. "What else do you say when a friend's mother makes an offer like that? I'm sure they'd all much rather chat in private."

Diane looked at Tess. "Is that true?"

"Gracious, Diane, don't put her on the spot like that," Grandma scolded as Tess stared at her curiously. "You were her age once and so was I, hard as that may be to believe; I'm betting both of us preferred talking to our friends, not our parents, or our friends' parents. You and I and Anthony can chat in the kitchen, and if the youngsters want to consult the oldsters, we'll be here. Go on, now," she concluded briskly, gesturing down the hall. "We're here if you need us, but we won't barge in."

"Thank you," Max said, seizing the opportunity even as his mother appeared uncertain.

"I'd love to take you up on the hot chocolate some other time," Tess said to Diane. "It was really nice of you to offer."

"That's okay, dear," Diane said, apparently accepting Grandma Dee's interpretation of events. "The door is always open."

Max was already halfway down the hall, and he waited beside his bedroom door until the rest joined him. "Ready?"

"No, but let's get in there," Isabel whispered, "before Mom whips up a batch of cookies."

They slipped inside, Max locking the door behind them. He'd been hoping Nasedo wouldn't be there, that by some miracle he'd recovered and left, but no such luck; the body was right where he'd left it, a dark shape on the floor beneath the window. They all kept their distance as Isabel snapped on a light, the soft glow of his bedside lamp appearing harsh given what it was illuminating. No one spoke for a long time.

"Snap out of it, everybody," Michael ordered. "We've done this before."

"It looks...bad," Tess said in a faltering voice.

"The gunshot looked bad too," Michael said.

"Not as bad as this," Tess said as Isabel put an arm around her. "This looks worse."

"We brought him back before, and we'll do it again," Michael said firmly. "We need to get the body to the pod chamber. I'll go get the jeep ready."

"I'll go with you," Isabel said, edging around the body like she was afraid it would move. "We'll need to wrap him up."

"I'll take care of that," Max said. "Go."

Michael and Isabel climbed out the window as Max pulled the blanket off his bed and Tess knelt beside Nasedo. "I was going to talk to your Mom," she said in a small voice, "so the rest of you could do this."

"It's better this way," Max said. "I know she means well, but ditching her could have taken awhile." He knelt beside her with the blanket. "Thanks for filling in the blanks out there. I just couldn't think of anything to tell her. You think fast."

"He taught me that," Tess said in a brittle voice. "And I hated him for it. Most of the time." She paused. "Max, what are we going to do if...if…"

"Let's not 'what if'," Max said gently. "That's a really long list. Let's just get him to the pod chamber and bring him back so you can hate him some more. And he can get all peeved because it took us so long."

It took a moment, but she nodded. "Yeah. He'll be furious. But this time...I don't think I'll mind."





*****************************************************





Pod Chamber






"Okay, someone's not trying hard enough. Who is it?"

The glow from the healing stones abruptly ceased as three heads rose to stare at him. "Michael, what are you talking about?" Isabel said.

"I'm talking about the fact that we've been at this for at least twenty minutes and nothing's happening," Michael snapped.

More like ten, Tess thought, her stone cupped in hands which felt like stone. She could certainly see why his perception of time was warped; she would have sworn she'd been standing here forever despite the time it had taken to maneuver Nasedo's body out Max's window and drive to the pod chamber, which had also seemed like forever.

"No, you were accusing us of not trying," Isabel said. "Care to elaborate?"

"I'm throwing everything I've got at this, but the rest of you haven't even broken a sweat," Michael complained.

"So you've decided we're not trying because we're not perspiring?" Isabel demanded. "Maybe my deodorant works better than yours. Or maybe you're just not wearing any."

"Or maybe you don't want him to wake up," Michael muttered.

"Excuse me?" Isabel demanded.

"Michael," Tess said slowly, "did you really mean to imply that I don't want Nasedo to wake up? Because if you did, you and I can step outside and settle this like aliens."

Silence. Michael looked nonplussed, Isabel was fuming, and Max was watching, his eyes moving from one to the other, registering reactions but staying out of it. Wise choice, that; it was always better to stay out of things unless and until you needed to wade in. Many never learned that, but Max already had.

"Well?" Tess prodded as Michael turned a gratifying shade of pink. He knew better than any of them that she had better control of her powers than any of them and would flatten him like a pancake if they went head to head. "Is that what you meant?"

"Of course not," Michael said, abashed. "Not you, anyway."

"Who, then?" Isabel demanded. "Me? You mean me, don't you? Michael, Nasedo told Max he was killed by an alien, but you think I don't want him to wake up? You think I don't want our best hope of surviving that murderous alien to wake up? Seriously?"

Michael glared at her a moment, looking ready to mount a challenge until he caught Max's expression and dropped his eyes. "I...I don't know what I meant. I'm just…"

Scared, Tess finished silently. If she'd thought no one could be more frightened than she was by the prospect of Nasedo dying, she was wrong. Watching Michael now, she was reminded once again that being raised with constant access to someone from their world, albeit a surly and uncommunicative someone, was still something The Others could only dream of. And Michael was wrong; no one was holding back. She could feel the energy everyone was throwing at him, and it should be enough to turn him into a solar flare. Why wasn't it working?

"Maybe we just need to hang in there," Max suggested, finally joining the fray. "Maybe it's just going to take longer this time. I say we keep going."

"I'll stay here all night if I have to," Tess said.

"And I'll stay with you," Isabel said. "We all will."

Mollified, Michael bent over his stone again; it glowed fiercely, as did everyone's, with a brighter light which seemed tinged with desperation. Tess's stone was practically on fire, but there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach which had appeared when she'd first laid eyes on Nasedo's body and refused to budge. She had a bad feeling about this, and it wasn't just because the gunshot wound had been so clean, so bloodless compared to his now obviously battered body. It was almost like something inside her knew it wasn't going to work this time…

Stop it! she told herself harshly. He'd been dead before, and they'd revived him. It didn't matter what he looked like; what mattered was that they could undo it. Maybe they just needed a little faith, or like Max said, more patience. Maybe their near instant success last time had made them soft. She'd been absolutely serious when she'd said she would sit here all night if she had to, and she settled more firmly into her stance, ready for the long haul…

...when all of the stones abruptly faded. Everyone looked at everyone else.

"I didn't do that," Isabel said quickly.

"Neither did I," Max said. "They just...stopped."

"Shit," Michael muttered.

"Let's try again," Tess said firmly.

They did...and once again, the stones died, lighting obediently but fading spontaneously despite their best efforts to keep them going. "It's not working," Tess said desperately. "Why isn't it working?"

Max knelt beside Nasedo. "I think whatever happened to him is...something we can't reverse."

"He can't die," Tess insisted. "We need him."

A hand landed gently on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tess," Isabel whispered.

"You said he mentioned another alien," Michael said to Max. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that we were all in danger," Max answered. "That the 'skins' were 'among us'."

Michael's eyes drifted away. "The 'skins'…"

"What?" Max said.

"I found this thing out by Pierce's grave site," Michael said. "It looked like a snake skin. When I tried picking it up, it disintegrated."

Tess felt Isabel's hand tighten on her shoulder. "Look!"

For one heart-stopping moment, Tess thought they'd done it; Nasedo's body was moving, changing. Maybe it was just a delayed reaction? Maybe the stones had stopped glowing because their work was done? But as she watched in horror, his body began to crumble, dissolve, collapsing in on itself until nothing but a pile of dusty looking dirt remained which no one would have guessed had been a body unless they'd seen it happen. Stunned, Tess looked at the stone in her hand. No wonder it had stopped glowing; there was nothing to glow for. The stones knew more than they did.

"What do we do now, Max?" she said faintly.

Max looked at the pile of dust on the floor which had once been Nasedo. "We go home," he answered. "We live our lives."

"Go home?" Isabel said in disbelief. "With a murderer out there?"

"What do you suggest, Iz?" Max said. "That we hole up in here? Order pizza, and have Mom and Dad come visit?"

"Be serious!" Isabel ordered.

"I am serious," Max insisted. "We don't know what happened, and the only way to find out is to go out there and live."

"Assuming someone doesn't make sure we don't live," Isabel muttered.

"Max is right," Michael said. "We need to find out who did this."

"Oh, now Max is right?" Isabel said scornfully. "A minute ago, you thought we were all slackers."

"I just thought that maybe we weren't trying hard enough," Michael said. "It didn't come out right."

"Got that right," Isabel muttered.

Tess knelt beside Nasedo's body, or what was left of it. "But we were trying; I could feel it. We were throwing so much at him, he should have been glowing like the sun. Something was missing, something that was there last time we did this. Last time, it was like...it was like he answered us, like he joined us. And this time…"

"There was nothing," Max finished. "It was like throwing power at nothing."

"Well, there's definitely nothing to throw power at now," Michael said.

There was a long, awkward silence. "Tess, why don't you spend the night with us?" Isabel said. "You could sleep in my room."

Tess shook her head. "Thanks, but...well...your mom will want to talk, and...and I don't think I'm very good at lying right now."

"Then I'll sleep at your house," Isabel said. "If that's okay."

"Yeah...that would be nice," Tess said.

Max stood up. "We should go."

"Give me a minute," Tess said. "Please?"

"Sure," Max said gently. "We'll wait outside."

They left, the door rumbling closed behind them. She was alone with the remains of the only protector she'd ever known and entirely dependent on the three who'd just left.

You're not my family. You never will be. Max, Michael, and Isabel are.

"Guess we'll see if that's true," Tess whispered.





******************************************************





"Do you see them?" Anthony asked.

Her binoculars firmly planted on the rock formation in the distance, Dee frowned. "Nope."

"They've been in there a long time," Anthony noted. "Maybe they left?"

"We haven't seen them come out," Dee reminded him. "They're in there."

"Still can't believe we pulled that off," Anthony remarked. "Diane must think we're nuts, dropping in, then running off like that."

"Diane thinks I'm an old lady who drinks too much tea," Dee said. "Besides, I don't care what she thinks. I know she's in the dark, and I'm sorry about that, but this is hardly the time to bring her up to speed."

Anthony fell silent as Dee kept the binoculars glued to her eyes. They had only been chatting with Diane for ten minutes or so when Max had appeared in the kitchen and said they were taking Tess home. After confirming that Jaddo's body was indeed gone from the bedroom, Dee had waited an excruciating five minutes before begging off, leaving Diane with barely-touched cups of tea they hadn't wanted anyway and high-tailing it for the desert, arriving just in time to see dark shapes climbing the rocks which housed the pod chamber. Nearly 45 minutes had passed since then with no sign of the kids or Jaddo. This didn't look good.

"Should we get closer?" Anthony suggested.

"No. Any closer, and they'll see us."

"But if we're not close enough to get any answers—"

"Shhhh! I see something!"

Dee's heart began to pound as shapes appeared on the rock face, upright, dark, definitely moving. One...two...three…

Four.

"Well?" Anthony demanded. "Is he with them?"

The binoculars dipped, landed in her lap. "No," Dee said heavily. "I only see four."

Anthony took the binoculars out of her hands, and she didn't resist, watching for a long time before lowering them wordlessly. "Maybe he needs to recover?" he ventured. "It wasn't always instantaneous, was it?"

The tiniest glimmer of hope flared. "No," Dee admitted. "No, it wasn't. Sometimes they were flat out bedridden for days."

"Then he could still be in there," Anthony said. "He would have told them to leave him there."

Dee snatched the binoculars back; the jeep had left. "Drive up there," she said urgently. "Maybe I can talk to him."

A minute later they arrived at the base of the rocks, jutting into the sky like a launchpad. Dee climbed out and started across the sand with difficulty, her knees complaining, only to come to a halt at the base. What was she thinking? She wasn't 8 years old any more. Time was when she would have skipped up this thing without a second thought, then a time when it would have been a bit of a hike. These days it was doable, if a lot more difficult, but tonight it was downright impossible; she was already out of breath just from crossing the sand. There would be no leaning on the pod chamber door for her tonight.

"Try it from here," Anthony suggested, puffing up behind her. "It might work."

*Jaddo?* Dee called. *Can you hear me? Are you okay?*

No answer. She tried again and again, leaning against the rock face as she sent call after call into the void.

"Maybe he's asleep," Anthony said.

"Maybe he's dead," Dee said dully.

"We don't know that," Anthony said firmly. "And I, for one, will not assume that until I know for sure. Given how injured he was, it could very well be a while before he's recovered. I'm sticking with that unless and until informed otherwise."

They rode in silence back to Corona, Dee dredging up every memory she could find about the multiple times they'd used the healing stones on the Warders after the Crash. They had been laid up for days sometimes, the stones having mended broken bones or whatever, but the Warders still weak from the exertion of aiding in their own healing. That must be it; Jaddo had been so badly injured that even a flock of hybrids may not have been enough on their own, or so she told herself as she tried to stem the rising tide of despair. She'd never been very good at lying to herself; others, yes, but not herself. Unfortunate, that, because she could use a little dissembling now, and her heart was especially heavy when they reached their house, went inside, snapped on the light...and gasped.

"God, you scared us!" Anthony exclaimed as Courtney materialized from the living room. "How did you get in here?"

"Seriously?" Courtney said. "Like you didn't know I can pick locks. Where have you been? I've been calling and calling, and you haven't picked up."

Dee, who for just a moment had thought it was Jaddo, rapidly deflated. "I...I had my phone off," she said, pulling it out of her purse, the message icon blinking gaily. "Sorry."

"What the hell is going on?" Courtney demanded. "Brivari called asking if I'd seen Jaddo, and he seemed to think Jaddo had been up at Las Cruces taking care of the bones thing—"

"What, you mean he wasn't?" Dee interrupted.

"Not according to the Royals," Courtney answered. "Sounds like they took care of things themselves. I told him that, and he just hung up on me. And then he wasn't answering, and Jaddo wasn't answering, and you weren't answering, and I was beginning to wonder if I had to present myself to the king just to find out what was up. So—what's up?"

"Courtney," Dee said slowly, "there's a chance that Jaddo is…"

"Injured," Anthony finished. "We don't really know what happened, but the short story is that he collapsed in Max's bedroom."

"Wait," Courtney said. "Royal Warders don't just 'collapse'."

"They do if they're attacked," Dee said.

"Attacked?" Courtney said sharply. "By whom?"

"We don't know," Anthony admitted. "All we know is that Brivari told us to go to Philip's house, and when we did, we found Jaddo...unconscious...on Max's bedroom floor. The kids took him to the pod chamber, but they came out without him. That could mean he's recovering; he was pretty banged up, and Dee said it took them several days to recover when she was a kid, so he could be—"

"Dead," Courtney broke in, staring at the floor.

"We don't know that for sure," Anthony protested. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

"I'm not. Look at your shoes," Courtney said. "Both of you."

Dee looked down. Something glinted in the dim hallway light on both pairs of shoes, faint, but all too familiar. "What is that?" Anthony said.

Dee sank down on the bottom step of the stairway. "It's dust," she said heavily. "And I don't mean the kind you need a Swiffer for."

Everyone grew very quiet, very still. "Maybe it was left over from...someone else," Anthony ventured after a moment.

"Like who?" Courtney said. "Malik died forty years ago."

"And not in the pod chamber," Dee said. "No, Anthony, there's nothing for it," she went on when he began to protest. "It's dust, and it must be Jaddo's dust. The kids must have tracked it out when they left."

Anthony sank down beside her on the stairs. "So he's dead," he said faintly.

"Shit," Courtney muttered, pacing in front of them. "Shit, shit, shit! Damn it!"

Anthony stared at her. "You hated him," he reminded her.

"Of course I hated him!" Courtney exclaimed. "The freaking universe hated him, and the feeling was mutual, but that doesn't mean I wanted him dead! He was a blunt instrument, but they needed him. Brivari is the negotiator, and Jaddo is the hammer. They need both."

"That explains a lot," Anthony remarked. "When you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail."

"But if you have a nail, you need a hammer," Courtney countered, "and when the Royal Four go back, they're going to find themselves knee deep in nails."

"I thought people wanted them back," Anthony said, "or at least enough people that they'll be able to find plenty of hammers on their own."

"Oh, sure," Courtney said disdainfully. "There won't be any shortage of hammers on offer the next time the king sets foot on Antar. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry from the five planets will come ass-kissing, and then they'll all argue with each other, the king won't know who to trust, and it'll wind up a giant clusterfuck. Jaddo was his hammer, a known quantity. He was an asshole, but he was their asshole."

"You have a point, but we both know he was dangerously unstable sometimes," Dee said. "And if it's 'hammers' you're looking for, you wouldn't have wanted either Valeris or Urza. Valeris was a scientist, and Urza...Urza was just a sweetheart."

Courtney leaned wearily against the wall. "I keep forgetting you knew all of them. Jesus. No one 'knows' Royal Warders back home, or calls them 'sweethearts', or…" She paused, her eyes widening. "Wait—where's Brivari?"

"Out chasing whoever killed Jaddo, from what I gathered," Dee said.

"SHIT!" Courtney exploded angrily. "Great! Just great! There goes the last one!"

"What do you mean?" Dee said. "Brivari's not dead."

"Yet," Courtney corrected. "Do you know how hard it is to kill a Warder? Bloody hard, and even then they can be revived as long as there isn't massive brain damage. I'll bet he was really messed up around the head, wasn't he?" Dee and Anthony exchanged glances. "Of course he was," Courtney went on, answering her own question. "Whoever did this knew right where to hit him. And now Brivari's out there chasing someone who knows right where to hit him."

"Could this have something to do with Vanessa?" Anthony asked.

Courtney snorted loudly. "You think? Of course it has something to do with her. I'm sure it has everything to do with her."

"I'll kill her," Dee muttered.

"Sure you will," Courtney deadpanned. "Just march into her office and say, 'I know you're an alien, you killed Rath's Warder, and I'm here to make you pay for it. Maybe you can nail her while she's doubled over laughing." She slid to the floor, her hands around her knees. "We could be all that's left: You, me, and Larak. What the hell am I going to tell Larak? If we really are all that's left, he'll have to show up a lot more than he has been."

Anthony blinked. "Who?"

Courtney looked startled, as though she'd said something she hadn't meant to. "I know that name," Dee said, frowning. "He was a friend of Brivari's, wasn't he? They've talked to him since they came here, but you make it sound like he's here."

"If he's here, he must have turned off the engines and coasted in on fumes," Anthony said. "There haven't been any sightings recently."

"Well?" Dee demanded when Courtney didn't say anything. "What aren't you telling us?"

Courtney sighed heavily and shook her head. "Larak's gonna kill me."

"I'll kill you first if you don't spill," Dee said severely. "I'm not in the best of moods at the moment. Tell him I threatened you. It's only the truth."

"Okay, okay," Courtney said crossly. "Enough with the fist shaking. Larak was...Zan's friend. And he's here...sort of."

" 'Sort of'?" Anthony said. "How can you be 'sort of' here?"

"Never mind," Dee said. "Introduce me."

"What? No!" Courtney exclaimed. "I can't just walk a human in there!"

"If you're so worried we're 'all that's left', you most certainly can," Dee argued. "I'm nowhere near ready to count Brivari out, but even if he lives, he's the only Warder left. Doesn't it make sense for the rest of us to plan—"

"Okay," Courtney broke in peevishly. "I get it. I'll think about it. About how to go about it," she amended hastily when Dee's eyes narrowed. "I can't just plop you down in front of him." She pushed herself to her feet. "Let me know if you hear from Brivari. I'm going to find out what happened."

"How?" Anthony asked.

"By going straight to the source," Courtney said. "Vanessa."

"So you're going to march into her office and say, 'I know you're an alien, you killed Rath's Warder, and I'm here to make you pay for it'?" Dee said dryly. "Well, maybe not the 'I know you're an alien' part. Bit redundant."

"I thought you didn't want Vanessa to know you're here?" Anthony said.

"That's just the point," Courtney said. "If she's figured out Jaddo, she's figured out me. The game's over."





*****************************************************




Holiday Inn,

Roswell





Vanessa shut off the vacuum cleaner with a sigh and flopped on the bed. This was her fourth pass with the pilfered cleaner and she was still finding skin flakes; a few billowed up from the bedspread as she landed even though she'd already shaken it out twice, laid it on the floor, and vacuumed it. Christ, what a mess. She should have made Jaddo clean it up given that he'd caused it, but she couldn't afford to wait until he'd recovered enough to wield cleaning equipment. If Nicholas sent anyone out here and found skin flakes, all bets were off. She'd need to change rooms, change hotels, even, maybe forge some dates so it looked like she wasn't here when it happened. Sweaty, tired, and grumpy, she'd resolved to take a shower when her foot brushed against something on the floor.

It was the manilla envelope Nathan had been carrying when he'd barged in; opening it, she found several photographs. It took her a moment to realize who she was looking at, but when she did, a slow smile spread across her face. Courtney. So the Resistance had arrived; well, of course they had. Everyone and their mother had picked up that signal and were now converging on its origin. All present and accounted for, Vanessa thought, tossing the pictures on the bed. Hybrids, Warders, Argilians, Rebels...the gang was all here.

It was the perfect time to make a deal.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 21 on Sunday, December 21.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



September 9, 2000, 11 a.m.

Harding residence





"And then he tilts the pan," Isabel instructed, dipping the frying pan precipitously toward her. "And then he swirls the egg around, waits for just a few seconds, and then it's cooked enough to flip."

"Try it," Tess urged, handing her a spatula.

For a moment, it looked like it might actually work. Isabel nudged the spatula beneath the thin circle of egg, lifted...and it tore. "Rats!" Isabel muttered. "Dad does this every single Saturday morning without even batting an eyelash, but when I do it, it falls apart."

"Maybe it wasn't cooked enough," Tess suggested.

"But if you wait until it's cooked on top, it's burned on the bottom," Isabel sighed. "Face it—I'm just not destined to cook an omelet."

"You can still eat it," Tess said. "It's just kind of...scrambled. And in the end, it's still eggs. Does it really matter what shape they're in?"

"Yes," Isabel said tartly. "It does. It's a pride thing. My dad can do this—why can't I?"

"Okay, I read about a different omelet technique," Tess said. "It's an 8 inch pan, two eggs, a little water…" She moved briskly around the kitchen, assembling what she needed. "Then you let it set for twenty seconds…" There followed an interminable twenty second pause that felt more like twenty minutes. "...and then you stir in a figure eight pattern, like so. Then you put the toppings on, slide it onto a plate, and it doesn't get folded until then. No flipping involved."

"Looks like it's working," Isabel murmured, watching the wooden spoon snake a pattern through the eggs.

"It is!" Tess said excitedly. "Maybe you can go back to your dad with a whole new way to make—"

She stopped as the smooth puddle of eggs abruptly pulled away from the pan in unsightly clumps. "Annnnnd we have scrambled eggs!" Isabel announced with mock triumph. "Again! We are so good at scrambled eggs! We're so good at them that we make them even when we're not trying to."

"What happened?" Tess muttered. "Was the pan too hot? Too cold? Not enough grease? Or maybe—"

"Who cares?" Isabel said. "I'm hungry."

"Good point," Tess said. "Let's eat."

They parked at the kitchen table and tucked into their would-be omelets with gusto, adding sugar and Tabasco the way other people used ketchup and cheese. It was a beautiful day outside, all sunshine, warm breezes, dogs barking, lawn mowers whirring, and a hot breakfast on the table, just perfect after a night spent watching movies and chattering well into the wee small. Why do I feel so...normal? Tess thought. She knew Nasedo was dead, yet nothing felt different. Maybe it was because he'd been gone all summer. Maybe it was because she and Isabel had been having these mini slumber parties all summer. Whatever the reason, it was weird to know something so profound, so life-shattering, and yet not feel it. When was it going to hit her? Would she fall apart when it did?

"It's almost noon," Isabel sighed, pushing contentedly away from her empty plate. "Day after tomorrow, we're up with the birds."

"Before the birds," Tess said. "Even birds aren't up that early."

"I hate waking up early," Isabel groaned.

"Me too," Tess said. "So why do we? Why go to school at all? We can already do all that stuff with our eyes closed if we have to."

"Because you need the diploma to get a job," Isabel said.

"We have a job," Tess said. "We have a planet to save."

The room got very quiet, the way it always did when the subject of home came up. "Well...someday," Isabel allowed uncomfortably. "But in the meantime, I'd like to do something. You know, make something of myself."

"You're a princess," Tess reminded her. "Doesn't that count as 'something'?"

The look on Isabel's face gave Tess her answer; Isabel wasn't "feeling" princess just like she wasn't feeling Nasedo's absence. "Look, I'm sorry," Tess said. "It's just that, for me, school was always a cover. It was never serious. It was never to 'make something' of me. I always knew we had something important to do, something I wouldn't need a diploma for."

"Thing is, I know how to get a diploma," Isabel said. "I have no idea how to save a planet. I didn't even know we were supposed to save a planet. We never had any idea why we were here."

Tess picked at the remnants of her omelet. "What do you remember? From when we were born, I mean?"

Isabel shrugged. "The orphanage, mostly. My mom and grandmother coming to see us. The day Mom and Dad took us home. Mom was wearing this yellow sweater, and I thought she looked like the sun. I had this thing about the sun for some reason. I drew all kinds of pictures of it."

"Because our sun is different," Tess said. "It's larger and redder and colder."

"You...remember that?" Isabel said.

"Vaguely," Tess admitted. "Kind of the way you know something's wrong, but you're not sure why. You must have felt the same way, and that's why you had a thing about the sun."

"Maybe," Isabel said doubtfully.

"But what about before that?" Tess persisted. "Before the orphanage, I mean. Do you remember anything before that?"

"Just bits and pieces," Isabel answered. "When Michael got sick and we used the stones on him, we had these flashes of the three of us walking in the desert as little kids. That's pretty much it."

"So you don't remember coming out of the pod?"

Isabel shook her head. "Nope. Do you?"

"Well, yeah. Nasedo was there. I don't remember much right after that, though. The next thing I remember really well is the fight about the doll. I was playing with a girl called Ashley, and when she gave me a Barbie doll, Nasedo took it away from me. He said I didn't really look like that, and he threw it in the trash, and it broke."

"That's so mean!" Isabel exclaimed.

"I fished it out and fixed it with my powers," Tess went on. "He also told me I could pick my own name. I didn't have one yet, and Ashley called me 'Tess' because she had a cousin named Tess. So I picked Tess." She smiled faintly. "I'm named after the cousin of someone I knew for a few days and never saw again."

"Max and I have our grandparents' middle names," Isabel said. "I can't believe he didn't give you a name."

"Well, he didn't want to call me by my real name," Tess said. "I'm sure whatever it is would stick out. I still have no idea what my real name is. None of us do." She looked down at her plate. "And now we never will."

"We might," Isabel said gently. She stood up. "I'll start washing up. Do you have any more dishtowels? This one's too wet."

"They're upstairs in the linen closet," Tess said. "I'll get some."

Tess headed up the stairs, shaking her head. Isabel didn't want to know what her real name was because, in her mind, her name was Isabel. She was probably secretly delighted that such a huge link to their former lives was no longer a threat. She grabbed some dish towels from the linen closet, turned around...and stopped dead in her tracks.

Nasedo's bedroom lay in front of her, that place where she always felt watched even when he wasn't here. Piles of papers covered the bed, neat little piles of bills, notices, credit card offers, and whatnot. He'd disdained those piles just a couple of days ago, and she'd been trying to come up with an alternative...but now she didn't have to. Nasedo would never look at those papers again. She walked to the threshold, crossed it, but the feeling of being watched was gone. No one would watch her here again. This is why she'd avoided coming up here, why she'd grabbed clean clothes out of the dryer instead of her closet, slept downstairs, used the downstairs bathroom instead of the larger one up here. Downstairs, cheerful denial was possible; up here, not so much.

"Tess?" Isabel called. "Did you find them?"

Tess backed away from the bedroom and hurried down the stairs. She'd been wondering when it was going to hit her, and it just had—she'd just stared into the abyss, the yawning chasm that was life without Nasedo,. Perhaps it was best that school was starting; she needed something mindless and mind-numbing, and God knows school qualified.

"You okay?" Isabel asked when she arrived in the kitchen.

"Sure. Got'em," Tess said, waving the towels. "I'll dry."

Isabel smiled and passed her a can't-put-it-in-the-dishwasher-teflon pan. Doing dishes by hand was also mindless, leaving space to reflect on something else which had just occurred to her. Nasedo's box was in the hidden space upstairs in his bedroom, the box with the timed lock which would open if he failed to reset it, which he certainly would now. Nasedo would never reset that lock again.

"This contains things that you'll need if something happens to me. It must be kept safe at all costs. If you need to run, this is the one thing you take with you."

She still had no idea what was inside that box. She'd taken it out many times over the summer, shaking it, running her hand over the smooth gray exterior so like the orbs, always glancing over her shoulder, fearful he'd walk in the moment she touched it. He never had, and she needn't fear that any more. He'd never walk in on her again.

"The important thing is that you only go for this if you haven't heard from me in a long time."

"How long is a 'long time'?"

"It's a long time. You'll know if and when that happens, which it probably won't."

But it did, Tess thought as Isabel handed her another dripping pan. And as Nasedo had probably reset the lock when he'd first hit town, she was going to find out exactly how long a "long time" really was.





*********************************************************





Crashdown Cafe






"Lizzie, could you bring these down to your Dad?"

Liz stared at the papers her mom was holding out like they were poison. "Um...sure. Where is he?"

"In the office. Where else?"

"Right," Liz said, glancing down the stairs as though she were looking into a lion's den.

"So are going to tell me why you're holed up in your room on the last Saturday before school starts?"

"I'm not 'holed up'," Liz said quickly. "I'm just…"

"Holed up," Nancy nodded. "Okay...I'll stay out of it."

"Mom, there's nothing to 'stay out' of—"

"Staying out of it," Nancy called, with a knowing look on her face that Liz found absolutely infuriating. It was always inconvenient when parents could read you like a book, but it was doubly so when you were covering for aliens. Thank God her parents hadn't been around last night; she was willing to bet her mother wouldn't be so willing to "stay out of it" if she'd seen Max burst into the cafe with tales of dead shapeshifters on his bedroom floor. She tiptoed down the stairs, making certain the coast was clear before going all the way down…

"There you are!" a voice declared, making Liz jump even as her heart sank. "I've been waiting for you all morning! What happened?" Maria demanded, stopping her on the bottom stair. "There isn't a Czechoslovakian in sight, and Alex and I are going nuts!"

"I don't know what happened," Liz said.

"Oh, sure," Maria said skeptically. "Like Max didn't call you."

"He didn't."

Maria rolled her eyes, only to narrow them a moment later. "Wait—he didn't call you? Why not?"

"Why would he?" Liz said. "Maria, Max and I aren't together any more."

"You were working together on the bones thing," Maria protested. "And besides, I saw him watching you last night."

"And I saw Michael watching you, but you're not together either," Liz pointed out. "And Michael hasn't called you either, has he? No, of course he didn't," she went on when Maria scowled. "Max didn't call me, I don't know any more than you do, and why should I? It's none of our business."

"None of our business?" Maria echoed incredulously. "None of our business? We saved their asses! That makes it our 'business'!"

"No, it doesn't," Liz argued, having been holed up in her room to avoid just exactly this argument. "Maria, we have to get off this treadmill. I've only been back for a few days, and already we're on crisis number two."

"Liz, nothing happened this summer!" Maria exclaimed. "Nothing. It was the most boring summer on the planet! You act like this goes on all the time, but it doesn't. It just started up again when…"

"When I got back," Liz finished. "So maybe I'm the catalyst."

"That's not what I meant," Maria said impatiently. "I was just pointing out that we're not always in crisis mode."

"Well, they are now, and I, for one, am glad I'm not part of it," Liz said. "I'm tired of one crisis after another."

"Bullshit," Maria declared. "You loved helping Max find those bones. You were practically glowing—"

"I'm done talking about this," Liz said firmly. "I don't know what happened to Nasedo, and neither do you."

"He's dead."

Maria whirled around. Michael was at his locker, tugging off his coat. "What? You mean…'dead'? As in dead dead?"

"As in 'dead'," Michael said. "As in no longer alive."

"But what about the stones?" Liz said, conveniently forgetting that she'd just insisted she wanted no part of this. "They worked the last time."

"Yeah, well, not this time," Michael said.

"But...they have to," Maria argued. "I mean, he can't just die like that. He can't—"

"He can, and he did. Don't you think we tried?" Michael demanded cutting Maria off mid-sentence. "We all tried; nothing worked. Nasedo's nothing but a pile of dust on the pod chamber floor."

"Dust?" Liz said.

"His body collapsed into dust," Michael said, pulling an apron over his head.

"But how?" Maria persisted. "Why? The stones brought him back the last time; why not this time? Did Max try healing him? Did Max and Isabel's mom find him in Max's room? Did—"

Michael slammed his locker door so hard that Liz jumped even though she'd seen it coming. "Our one and only link to our world dies, and this is what you're worried about? That we all just kind of shrugged and walked away without trying everything we could think of? That we didn't get the stains out of the carpet?"

"That is not fair!" Maria protested. "I'm just—"

"Sorry," Liz said quickly. "We're really sorry, Michael, Maria and I both. Not that I had any love for Nasedo, but...I know you all needed him."

Maria had the sense to keep her mouth shut as Michael looked them both up and down before dropping his eyes. "Yeah," he said heavily. "So am I. Maybe not as sorry as Tess, who's all alone now. Or maybe all of us, if whatever alien killed him comes after the rest of us."

He went into the kitchen, leaving them both gaping at the bottom of the staircase. "I know you didn't mean it the way he took it," Liz said. "He just needed some sympathy before he was milked for details."

"I wouldn't waste my sympathy on Tess," Maria muttered.

"Well, she is all by herself now," Liz said.

"So?" Maria demanded. "It's not like she's helpless. That girl is about as helpless as a nuclear bomb."

"She still has feelings," Liz said. "And so does Michael."

"Maybe you should date him," Maria said sourly. "Since you know him so well."

No thanks, Liz thought sadly as Maria went back into the cafe, and she continued on to her father's office. My heart's already taken.





*********************************************************





"Jim!" Jeff Parker exclaimed. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Is it still morning?" Jim Valenti asked as he slid into a seat at the Crashdown's counter. "I woke up a bit on the late side. Turns out you sleep more soundly when you're not waiting for a kid to come home."

"Ah, yes," Jeff said sagely. "You've had an empty nest this summer. So what's it like?"

"It's over," Valenti chuckled. "Kyle comes home this afternoon, and then it's back to listening for the car in the driveway and bracing myself every time school calls. But you wouldn't know about that," he went on when Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You've got one of those star students."

"Don't count Lizzie out just yet," Jeff said dryly. "We've had a call or two ourselves. Can I get you some coffee? Maria's working the counter, but I don't see her at the moment."

"I'll get it," a passing waitress said.

"Thanks, Courtney. So," Jeff said, leaning in closer, "what's it like having no kid at home? I gotta tell you, Nancy and I have been dreading the day Lizzie leaves. It just seems like life will be so...empty."

"Thanks," Valenti said as a cup of coffee appeared. "Well, let's see...it's quieter, that's for sure. There's less laundry and fewer groceries. If you open a carton of milk, it's not empty when you go back for more. You get to watch whatever you want on TV, and make whatever you want to eat. There's an extra towel rack in the bathroom, and no one's ever in there when you want to use it. You can use his room for storage space, you know, toss things on his bed or on the floor just to get it out of the way...which reminds me, I forgot to move some stuff," he added, suddenly remembering the box he'd left on Kyle's bedroom floor. "Oops."

"Yeah, but...isn't it lonely?" Jeff pressed. "Isn't it empty? Isn't it depressing?"

No, Valenti thought privately. He'd been dreading Kyle's summer at football camp for all the reasons Jeff was dreading his daughter's eventual departure, but the way things had turned out meant he'd practically floored it to the bus station, so eager was he to remove his son from what suddenly seemed like a very dangerous world. But he couldn't very well say to Jeff, "See, Kyle got shot because of this crazy FBI agent who would have happily killed us all, but then he was brought back to life by an alien, you know, the same one who brought your daughter back to life, only you don't realize she died? But anyway, I just couldn't wait to get him on that bus so I could learn to deal with all this without having to worry about my son in the process, so that kind of changes the whole 'empty nest' equation, y'know?" Nope. Couldn't say that.

"Maybe at first," Valenti allowed. "But you get used to it. It becomes the new normal. The hardest part was eating alone. You kind of develop a tendency to eat in front of the TV just so you're not staring at nothing. At least you'll have Nancy to eat with."

Jeff's eyes widened, reminded that his empty nest wouldn't be completely empty. "Right, right, I...I'm sorry. I'm whining, but you're right; I'll have Nancy. So," he went on brightly, "you got my cook back! I do appreciate that. What was all that about, anyway?"

"Who knows?" Valenti shrugged. "Looked like a politician trying to make a name for herself, even if that meant dragging a kid into a murder investigation for no better reason than he dropped his penknife in the desert. Turns out those bones had been out there for decades, since way before Michael was born. Case closed, at least for Michael."

"I'm grateful for all you did for him, and I'm sure he is too," Jeff said. "Well...gotta get back to work. Say, Courtney, could you take the sheriff's order? I don't know where Maria is."

"Sure," Courtney said, pulling out her pad as Jeff left. "What can I get you?"

"Hey, Sheriff, have you got a minute?"

Valenti turned to find a very intense-looking Max Evans sliding into an adjoining seat at the counter. "I'll check back later," Courtney said quickly, retreating.

"Sure, Max," Valenti said, although he would have liked to order his lunch. "Say, whatever Nasedo did up at Las Cruces, it worked the nuts; I haven't heard a syllable from Congresswoman Whitaker, and believe me, that one never shuts up. Tell him for me, well done."

"I wish I could," Max said. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

"The back booth just opened up," Courtney noted, breezing by with empty plates.

Max glanced toward the back corner, then slid out of his seat; Valenti reluctantly followed, albeit with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach; whenever aliens wanted a private word with you, it usually wasn't good news. "That wasn't Nasedo up at Las Cruces," Max said when they reached the booth. "It was me; Nasedo never showed." He paused. "He's dead."

Valenti blinked. "He...what? How? When?"

"Last night," Max said in a low voice. "He came to my window all messed up...said another alien did it. He died on my bedroom floor."

Valenti felt a wave of nausea as that bad feeling suddenly grew worse. Here he'd been looking forward to Kyle coming home, confident that he had a handle on this alien thing now, the only crisis since spring being of human manufacture. "Another...alien," Valenti said slowly. "Any idea who that could be?"

"None," Max said. "I wanted to ask you if anything unusual had been reported, any attacks, or deaths, or anything weird."

"Uh...no," Valenti said. "I was at the station just this morning, and everything was quiet, or as quiet as I'd expect the last weekend before school starts."

"Are you sure?" Max said.

"Max, I've developed something of a nose for 'weird'," Valenti said. "I'm sure. What about you? Nasedo died before, but you brought him back. Are you definitely sure you can't do that this time?"

"His body crumbled to dust right in front of us," Max said.

"Sounds pretty definite," Valenti said heavily. "Okay...chapter and verse. Tell me everything."

Twenty minutes later, Valenti reached for his phone as Max was leaving the cafe. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded when his call was answered. "Were you going to tell me one of them had died in my town, or just let me find out the hard way?"





**********************************************************






"What are you doing?" Maria demanded.

Courtney stopped, her arms full of laden plates. "Breathing. And delivering orders. My two favorite things."

"Delivering my orders," Maria corrected. "What are you doing with my orders?"

"Your job," Courtney answered. "You've been conferencing in the back for several minutes now."

"So what if somebody's Moons of Jupiter is five minutes late?" Maria snapped. "I've got a crisis going on!"

"So I heard," Courtney said. "And for the record, I wasn't passing judgment, just stating facts. You were busy, so I took some orders, and now I'm—"

"Wait—you took these orders?" Maria broke in. "How long have I been back there?"

Rath appeared at the pass-through. "Long enough that your ass would have been in a sling if she hadn't covered for you. So get off your high horse and leave her alone."

Maria scowled and began unloading plates from Courtney's arms. "That one's mine," Courtney noted, "although if you'd like to deliver it, I won't object."

Maria stalked off with three of the four plates, and Courtney looked at Rath. "Thanks, Mikey G. But I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," Rath said. "That was more for me than you."

Ouch, Courtney thought, passing a smoldering Maria as she delivered her one remaining plate. Everyone was on edge today; she'd had a rough night herself, checking her house carefully for assassins and sleeping in fits and starts, expecting trouble at any moment. But no one had appeared, making her doubt her earlier assertion that Vanessa certainly knew about her. If the Royals were in limbo, so was she, with a dead Warder, a missing Warder, and the threat of discovery looming larger than ever. No wonder everyone was so twitchy.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. "Dee!" Courtney whispered, slipping into the bathroom for the second time in the past hour, the first being to pull off another sheaf of skin. "Did you hear anything?"

"Is Valenti there?" Dee demanded.

"Uh...yeah. Why?"

"Max told him about Jaddo, and Valenti called me. I told him I couldn't discuss it over the phone, but I'm coming down to meet him."

"And that explains the cars wooshing by," Courtney said dryly. "Driving and talking on a cellphone; bad idea. I predict someday that will be outlawed."

"Well, it isn't now," Dee said crossly. "Do you mind? We're in crisis mode here."

"So I hear," Courtney sighed. "Forgive me; I'm such a judgy little thing, not wanting you wrapped around a tree, and all. Any word from Brivari?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" Courtney echoed. "And you didn't call me?"

"I am calling you," Dee retorted. "But since you don't like me driving and talking, I can always tell you later. I wouldn't want to risk wrapping myself around a tree on this treeless street."

"Forget the tree—what did he say?" Courtney demanded. "What happened? Where is he?"

"He got suspicious last night when you told him Jaddo hadn't been up at Las Cruces," Dee replied. "When he couldn't find Jaddo, he went to check on Max and found Jaddo on the bedroom floor. He was unconscious, but he managed to revive him for a couple of minutes."

"And?" Courtney said eagerly. "Did he say who attacked him?"

"No, but he said who didn't. Vanessa's off the hook. Jaddo explicitly said she didn't do it."

"Of course she didn't do it," Courtney said. "She wouldn't get her heavily manicured hands dirty; she'd delegate."

"That's not what he meant. He told Brivari to go talk to her."

"Talk to her about what? Her assassination techniques?"

There was a pause. "I didn't tell you everything last night," Dee said finally. "I thought it was beside the point because I was assuming she'd sold him out. But if he didn't think so…"

"What in blazes are you talking about?" Courtney demanded.

"Well...according to Jaddo, he and Vanessa had come to an agreement about how to end the mess on Antar. He said they'd made a deal."

"A 'deal'?" Courtney said incredulously. "Seriously? Vanessa doesn't make deals with anyone, especially not Covari."

"When we first met, would you have ever believed that you would make friends with a Covari?"

"I...we...are you comparing me with Vanessa?" Courtney stammered furiously. "Because if you are, that is one hell of a diss."

"I'm just pointing out that things change," Dee said. "People change."

"Vanessa doesn't," Courtney said flatly. "Ever."

"Look, I only meant that what Jaddo told Brivari before he died throws doubt on what we originally thought," Dee said. "I'll fill you in later. I have to go now; I see some trees up ahead."

"Unbelieveable," Courtney muttered, throwing open the bathroom door to find Maria waiting outside.

"Now who's conferencing?" Maria said archly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to chat and pee?"

"Like no one ever told you it's rude to listen to people pee?" Courtney retorted. "Back off; it's my turn to have a crisis."

"Lot of that going around today," Maria remarked. "So in the spirit of détente, I took some orders out for you. What?" she demanded when Courtney raised an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to decide which is more incredible," Courtney said, "that Michael talked you into that, or that you used a big word like 'détente'. Right now, it's a tie."

Maria's eyes narrowed. "That was a peace offering, and you just blew it. Don't I even get a thank you?"

"You mean like the one you gave me?" Courtney asked.

"Just for that, you can refill all the condiments," Maria snapped. "And deliver your orders. Oh, and the sugar canister is empty. Happy filling."

Shit, Courtney sighed. Peace offerings from Maria were unheard of, so it was damned inconvenient that she was in no mood for an olive branch after hearing that incredible story about Vanessa and Jaddo planting their own. What utter rot. And to have Dee, of all people, fall for that, or worse yet, Jaddo, of all people, fall for that...it just made no sense. She didn't bother turning on the storeroom light as she opened the door and reached for a bag of sugar.

"Hello, Courtney."

Courtney slapped the light switch. Lounging on a folding chair in the back corner was the last person she'd expected to see, here, at least.

"Long time, no see," Vanessa said.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas , and I'll be back with Chapter 22 on Sunday, January 11.

Sorry I was MIA last week. Illness hit the house, and I was basically horizontal. But I'm vertical now, so on we go.




CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO





September 9, 2000, 12:30 p.m.

Crashdown Cafe




So here it is, Courtney thought, facing a perfectly coiffed, beady-eyed Vanessa in this oddest of places where she'd never expected to. In a curious way, that was actually comforting; the waiting game was over, and her instincts had been sound after all. Whether she lived to celebrate either remained to be seen.

"Lurking in storerooms?" Courtney said. "Quite the comedown for someone more accustomed to limos and private jets. How the mighty have fallen."

Vanessa rose from her seat, a battered folding chair used in lieu of a proper stepladder for reaching tall shelves. "Ah, yes—you were always quite the smartass. I'd forgotten how little I've missed that. And this wasn't my first choice, but finding the right place for a family reunion was a bit...problematic."

" 'Family'?" Courtney echoed. "No way are we 'family'. And what exactly is the plan here? I won't go quietly, and there's a whole restaurant out there that will come running the minute they hear something. Unless the plan is to make it look like some disgruntled co-worker offed me, in which case I can introduce you to someone who'd like to."

"A kindred spirit," Vanessa said dryly. "But surprisingly enough, I'm not here to kill you. I knew you'd find that hard to believe, which is why I chose an obviously public place to have this meeting, somewhere that would lend credence to my claims. Not to mention—"

"Get back to the part where you're not here to kill me," Courtney interrupted. "Because I'd sure like to kill you."

"I'm sure you would," Vanessa said, "or rather, you'd like to try. And the feeling is mutual, I assure you. But recent events have changed things. As it turns out...I do believe we're now on the same side."

Courtney snorted softly. "As if! Of all the idiotic stories you could come up with—"

"Stop talking," Vanessa ordered. "We have a chance we will never have again, and I am going to pursue that chance as far as I can, into the ground if necessary, even if it means allowing runty little traitors like you to keep breathing. Shut the door, shut your mouth, and listen up."

Courtney's mouth set in a thin line as she closed the door behind her. She had no idea why Vanessa wanted to chat before she killed her, but whatever; the longer she yakked, the more likely they'd be discovered, Maria's perverse habit of sniffing her out suddenly presenting as useful. She wouldn't go quietly either, so the two of them ought to be able to make a large enough fuss to attract attention.

"Good girl," Vanessa said approvingly as Courtney smoldered. "Now...I'm sure you came to Roswell for the same reason I did."

"You're waiting tables?" Courtney said. "Never took you for the server type. Take my advice and ditch the heels."

"Oh, for God's sake, don't play coy with me," Vanessa said impatiently. "The signal, of course. No doubt the Resistance noticed it."

"For all the good it did us," Courtney said. "No one's here."

Vanessa smiled. "Nice try. You're either lying or clueless, which, I don't care. There's someone here, all right, and that someone and I have reached an understanding."

"Great," Courtney deadpanned. "So your hairdresser talked you into that brassy brunette. And this interests me...why?"

"Will you be serious?" Vanessa snapped. "This is serious!"

"If it's so 'serious', then spit it out," Courtney retorted. "You and 'someone' reached an 'understanding'? The very notion of you reaching an 'understanding' with anyone is side-splitting, so forgive me if I need a few more details before my give-a-shit meter starts to budge."

"Fine," Vanessa said flatly. "Rath's Warder and I have come to an agreement."

Here we go, Courtney thought. With luck, she'd live long enough to suss out the truth of this so-called "agreement" and pass it on to interested parties. "Rath's Warder?" she repeated incredulously. "An 'agreement'? What kind of agreement? How he intends to execute you? Did you do an Ann Boleyn and talk him into a French swordsman?"

"No one's executing anyone, least of all him," Vanessa retorted. "I just saved his ass. He owes me."

Courtney blinked. " 'Saved' him…you 'saved' a Royal Warder? How? Why?"

"The details aren't important," Vanessa declared. "Suffice it to say that he's still walking and talking because I allowed it, and because someone needs to fix this…and it turns out he and I might have a way."

"Fix what?" Courtney demanded.

"Antar!" Vanessa exclaimed. "Our shambles of a planet! I want to go home, and when I get there, I want something still standing, someone still standing. That's not going to happen if Khivar remains in power."

Courtney pressed her jaw shut to keep it from falling into her lap. "And yes, I know I just spoke treason," Vanessa went on. "But Khivar has been nothing but a disaster since he got the big chair; the planet is a mess, our sister planets are a mess, everyone hates him. He's been on his way out the door ever since the Warders sent our ship back with that message that the king would return, and now that we know the king has returned, he's got one foot out the door. We need to shove him through it before he completely ruins everything, and it will take a combined effort to accomplish that. Jaddo and I have come up with a peace treaty we think will work."

"And Khivar agreed," Courtney said skeptically. "Nicholas agreed."

"Of course not," Vanessa snorted. "Nicholas is an idiot. Khivar is an idiot. All men are idiots. If you haven't figured that out yet, you're welcome."

"Thanks for the tip," Courtney said.

"Khivar will take the deal because it's the only way to keep his head," Vanessa continued. " Zan will take the deal because it's the only way to continue his dynasty...unless Brivari talks him out of it. He's the real power behind the throne, the one we have to convince to throw his weight behind this. Jaddo has his work cut out for him."

Courtney stared at her, not certain which statement was more fantastic—that Brivari could talk Zan out of anything, or that Jaddo was capable of any kind of "work", what with being dead and all. "So," she said slowly, "where do I fit into all of these grand plans?"

"You're Resistance. The Resistance always opposed Khivar, and that's important because everyone doesn't just hate Khivar, they hate all of us. Khivar's behavior has managed to tarnish our entire race," Vanessa went on bitterly. "Here we finally come to power, and he wrecks it for us. But you...you are the daughter of the leader of the Resistance, which makes you the current face of the Resistance. If you buy into this, the odds it will succeed skyrocket."

"And then what?" Courtney said. "If everyone hates us, where do we go from there?"

"We retreat," Vanessa sighed. "We withdraw, and wait for another chance to take power."

Courtney raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you left that part out of your…'discussion'...with Jaddo."

"I did," Vanessa allowed, "but it doesn't matter. He knows what I intend to do. Hell, that's what he's been doing these past many years. Jaddo and I are...very much alike," she finished softly. "We think alike. We act alike. We both prefer bluntness to beating around the bush, action to political gamesmanship. We are uniquely suited to accomplish this."

Holy freakin' shit, Courtney thought, resisting the urge to gape at her. Vanessa sounded...smitten? Not exactly, but there was a definite note of admiration, an exceedingly rare thing coming from Vanessa. "So," Vanessa went on, "when the time comes, I need you to have a chat with your representative from the crown—"

"Wait—my what?" Courtney broke in.

"Let's not waste our mutually valuable time," Vanessa said wearily. "Hybrids? You're hiding some of them? Ring a bell? And if that doesn't, how about that house you're paying for on a waitress's salary? I know you're working for the crown."

"I prefer to think of it as working with the crown," Courtney remarked.

"Sweetheart, no one works 'with' the crown," Vanessa said. "Whether you realize it or not, you're working 'for' the crown."

"So that means you're not making a deal 'with' the crown, you're making a deal 'for' the crown," Courtney mused.

Vanessa's eyes hardened. "Just tell your handler that you support the treaty."

"I don't even know what's in this treaty," Courtney said. "And what if my contact is Jaddo? Sounds like telling him won't do much good."

"Of course it will," Vanessa said. "The more support he has when he brings this to Brivari, the more weight it will carry. Come to my office tonight and we'll—"

"No."

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"You really think I'd just walk into the lion's den?" Courtney said. "My 'support'—assuming I agree to give it—doesn't mean a whole lot if I'm that stupid. I'll find you."

"So you think I'm that stupid to let you pick the time and place?" Vanessa demanded.

Courtney rose from her chair, a small smile on her face. "I had no idea I frightened you so much," she said as Vanessa's expression darkened. "Good to know. You want my help? I pick. End of story."

"Oh, all right," Vanessa said peevishly. "But not a peep to your contact until you've heard me out. Do I have your word?"

"You know, I hadn't thought about that," Courtney said innocently. "I could use this to my advantage in so many ways, it isn't even funny—"

In one swift motion, Vanessa crossed the space between them and grabbed her by the arms. "You do that, and our one hope of surviving this dies," she said sharply. "What's the one thing you want most? If you could pick something right now, anything, anything at all, what would you want?"

Dangling in Vanessa's grip, her nails digging into her husk, Courtney blurted out the first thing which came to mind. "To live. Because if I'm dead, it's all over, whether or not any of this is true."

Vanessa's eyes widened; she looked blank for a moment, then abruptly released her. Her hands came away trailing sheafs of skin which hung from her fingertips in long, shimmering threads that sparkled in the storeroom's dim light.

"Yours, too," she said quietly. "But then we're all the same vintage. It's a bitch, isn't it? Now I know how humans feel when they grow old in that peculiarly vivid way they do."

Courtney said nothing as the trails of skin cells dissolved into dust. "We should be able to harvest the new husks in time," Vanessa continued. "It'll be tight, but if we're lucky, we'll manage. I can get you your replacement husk, and I'm the only one who can. Keep that in mind before you shoot your mouth off, because the one thing I want beyond merely surviving is to go home, and I'm betting you want that too. If you want anything left to go home to, don't screw this up."

Vanessa stepped past her and opened the storeroom door; light flooded in, making Courtney squint as she remembered to grab a bag of sugar before she left. They'd no sooner stepped outside when Maria appeared.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. "Found her!"

Mr. Parker appeared, doing a double take when he saw Vanessa. "I'm so sorry," Vanessa said with her trademark congressional smile. "I'm afraid I borrowed one of your employees for some directions. I hope I haven't caused a problem."

"Of course not!" Mr. Parker exclaimed as Maria's eyes narrowed. "Always a pleasure to help out our government representatives. How are you enjoying the lunches we're sending over?"

"Enormously, thank you," Vanessa answered. "This country's foundations rest on family-owned businesses like yours that I'm delighted to support." She turned to Courtney. "Thank you again for your help, Miss…?"

"Banks," Courtney answered.

"Yes, well, thank you, Miss Banks. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Courtney finally started breathing again as Mr. Parker enthusiastically walked his so-called congresswoman to the door. "Jesus," Maria muttered. "And I thought I was teflon. Nothing sticks to you, does it?"

"I wouldn't know," Courtney said. "I'm not the one throwing dirt. Now if you'll excuse me, I have sugars to refill."

She left Maria fuming and completely unaware of how badly her hands were shaking, so badly that refilling sugars would have to wait. She thought she'd bought it back there when Vanessa had grabbed her, and was nothing short of flabbergasted to still be breathing. She'd assumed it was all a ruse, a tall tale to gain some sort of advantage, but now she wasn't so sure. Not only did Vanessa seem to believe Jaddo was still alive, her tone lacked the usual levels of guile and haughtiness; mostly she had projected a desperate earnestness and an almost palpable contempt for the ones she served. If this was genuine, hell really had frozen over. What to do now? She'd talk to Dee, of course, but this required an Antarian perspective. Jaddo was obviously unavailable, and Brivari was MIA. Her fellow Resistance members would never believe this could be genuine for the same reason she had trouble believing it. For just a moment, her eyes drifted toward the kitchen, where the one hybrid who might actually care was flipping burgers…

"Delivery!" Rath called. "UFO Museum. Who wants it?"

"I do," Courtney said quickly.

Ten minutes later, after handing a bag of food to Larak's hungry host, she left a scribbled note in their hiding place. Larak wasn't Antarian, but he was the closest thing she had to an advisor. He would have to do.





*********************************************************





Roswell Sheriff's Station





"I do not understand why I learned vital information like that sitting at Jeff Parker's lunch counter," Valenti said angrily. "Do you have any idea how awkward that was? Do you have any idea what a compromising position that put me in?"

No worse a position than I've found myself in a million times over, Dee thought, working hard to maintain a neutral expression as Valenti paced in front of her, working up a good head of steam. The sheriff was angry that he'd learned of "Nasedo's" death from Max, but the truth was she hadn't even thought about telling him. Everything was still too fresh, too raw, too topsy turvy to start dragging others into this, and there was no need to anyway. Or so she'd thought until the King of Antar, a.k.a. her grandson, had decided otherwise, complicating an already complicated situation in ways he couldn't imagine. Perhaps it was best that she'd spent most of her time just listening to Valenti vent because when her turn came to talk, she wasn't sure how much to tell him. She'd rather not go into the nitty gritty of the "enemies-here-on-Earth" bit, or out Courtney, or even out Vanessa. She already had more questions than answers, and reading the sheriff chapter and verse would only lead to more questions she didn't have answers for.

"I'm sorry you found yourself in an uncomfortable situation," Dee said. "I had no idea Max would pull you into this—"

"At least someone did!" Valenti exclaimed. "Jesus! People are murdered in my town, and I don't know about it? Max wanted to know if I'd heard of any other deaths or anything strange, and I told him I hadn't, but I just spent the past hour combing through the call log to make certain we hadn't missed anything."

"You didn't," Dee said, privately noting that Max's instincts had been sound. "This was what you'd call a 'private hit'. Whoever did this wasn't interested in taking out humans."

"See, it's the 'whoever' part that worries me," Valenti said. "Max told me an enemy alien killed Nasedo. I only know about the kids and their guardians. Who are these enemy aliens? Did you know about them?"

"I don't know who killed him, if that's what you're asking," Dee said. "But I do know they have enemies. That's why they were chased off the throne."

"Great," Valenti muttered, angry enough that he hadn't noticed she'd dodged his question. "I've got murderous enemy aliens lose in my town."

"Not for long," Dee said. "The other Warder is pursuing whoever did this. He'll find them."

"Like the first one did?" Valenti demanded. "How do we know his goose won't wind up cooked too? Hell, how do we know he didn't kill Nasedo?"

Dee broke into a laugh, which drew raised eyebrows from Valenti. "I'm sorry," she said hastily. "It's just that those two have been at odds ever since they crashed 50 years ago. Believe me when I say that if either were ever so inclined to kill the other, they would have done so long ago. They didn't because they realize what's at stake, how hard it's going to be to get all of them back home. It's the only thing which has kept them speaking to each other all these years. Even when they weren't speaking to each other."

She chuckled at that last statement, but stopped when saw the look on the sheriff's face. "You're laughing," he said accusingly. "That was a legitimate question, and you're laughing. Not to mention that I just talked to a kid who thinks his only connection to his world is gone when I know otherwise, but wasn't supposed to say anything. And I can promise you, that is not funny!"

"Of course it isn't," Dee said, irritation edging her voice. "What do you think I've been grappling with these past many years? But there is a reason for that, one which—"

"One which doesn't matter," Valenti declared. "There is no good reason to keep what we know from Max. I went along with this while there were two of these 'guardians', but now there's only one. He needs to know about the other one."

"I sympathize with your position, but there is a good reason," Dee said. "There's no way I would have kept silent all this time without one—"

"Whatever it is doesn't matter now that one of them is dead," Valenti interrupted.

Dee's eyes narrowed. "It not only matters, it's more important than ever."

"If you don't tell him, I will," Valenti announced.

"Don't you even want to know what it is?" Dee demanded. "It's not like you to ignore facts."

"It's also not 'like me' to lie to people," Valenti retorted. "It's not 'like me' to be completely unaware that people are being murdered in my town. It's not 'like me'—"

There was a knock on the door, and a deputy poked his head in. "Sheriff? I've got that—"

"Not now, Hanson!" Valenti roared.

The deputy retreated, ashen faced as Dee's mouth set in a thin line. "I think you need to take a step back, Jim—"

"That's 'sheriff' to you!" Valenti barked.

"Oh, is that so?" Dee snapped, rising to her feet, her patience gone. "First it was 'sheriff', then it was 'call me Jim', and now we're back to 'sheriff' just because you don't like what happened? Well, I've got news for you, buddy; no one likes what happened, least of all the one who died or the one left holding the bag. And no one knows what happened except the one who died and the one who killed him. Here you are, carrying on like you're the only one in the dark when we're all in the dark! You want to know what happened? Get in line!"

Dee plopped back down in her chair as Valenti gaped at her, every bit as white as the deputy who'd fled. She'd probably gone too far, but it was infuriating to sit here watching a grown man throw a temper tantrum because he didn't know every last thing he wanted to now. Good Lord, when had she known every last thing she'd wanted to know? When had the kids? When had anyone? To hear him talk, he was the victim instead of Jaddo, instead of the kids left with a single Warder, instead of Brivari, now on his own. She'd likely regret it, but at this moment, she didn't care if she'd just wrecked their alliance. With friends like these, who needed enemies?

But she needn't have worried; the wind had gone out of Valenti's sails. Slowly, he lowered himself into his chair, looking everywhere, anywhere but at her. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a very long time.

"I...I'm sorry," Valenti said finally. "I guess I just...I guess I just wasn't expecting this. We'd only just settled the whole thing with Michael and the bones, and I thought...I thought…"

"That we were safe?" Dee finished. "That we were done? Because we're never safe, sheriff, and we're never done. Not really."

Valenti's eyes dropped. "Jim," he said awkwardly. "Please call me 'Jim'. And if I every try to rescind that again...slap me."

"With pleasure," Dee said.

His eyes flew up, startled, but she was smiling. "I guess the summer kind of lulled me into a false sense of safety," he went on. "And the bones thing was really a human problem, so…" He paused. "Any chance I could hear that reason you're willing to keep Max in the dark? Must be a pretty good reason if you went along with it."

"You can put away the butter knife," Dee said dryly. "You don't need to flatter me, you just need to stop whining."

Valenti smiled faintly. "A low maintenance woman. I've heard they existed, but I've never met one."

"Yes, well, my husband might disagree. The reason Max cannot know about his other Warder is that those Warders are required to obey his orders, and Max, being a teenager, cannot be trusted to not misuse that prerogative."

"Well, of course they're supposed to obey him, but geez, doesn't this qualify as a special circumstance?" Valenti said. "Can't they postpone all the 'Your Majesty' stuff until he actually climbs back on the throne?"

"You misunderstand," Dee said. "They must obey the king's orders. They are genetically engineered to obey the king's orders. They are not capable of refusing to obey the king's orders."

Valenti blinked. "What?"

"Back in 1989 when the kids first...appeared," Dee said, "they briefly remembered their former lives. They briefly remembered their Warders. And Max gave those Warders a devastating order—he ordered them to tell them all why they were here, to describe the chain of events which led to their waking up in different bodies on another world. The Warders couldn't refuse. They had to answer, and so they told them how they had all been betrayed and murdered."

"Shit," Valenti whispered.

"Now, remember, these were young children," Dee went on, "about 6 years old in human terms. They couldn't handle it. They all had what can best be termed a nervous breakdown and promptly forgot what they'd just remembered. We assumed they'd remember eventually, and maybe they will...but they haven't yet. That's what happened when they were small; just imagine the havoc which could be wreaked now. The Warders have always been in hiding because they fear what the king will make them do, and when the time came to reunite them all, it was decided that one of them would always remain hidden so that one would always be free. Maybe that will change now, maybe it won't, but until it does, I'm keeping my mouth shut, and you should too."

"So what you're saying," Valenti said slowly, "is that the guardians have to do whatever Max says? Even if they know they shouldn't? Even if it's something stupid?"

"Even if he orders them to kill you," Dee said softly. "Or me. They wouldn't be able to stop themselves."

Valenti was silent for a moment, staring at her. "Okay, that is the most asinine thing I've ever heard in my life. What moron came up with that one?"

"It has to do with the way shapeshifters are feared and hated on their world," Dee answered. "It was felt that giving the king the ability to control them was a wise thing to do. Suffice it to say that whoever did that never envisioned them being in the situation they're in now, but here they are. Here we are. And that is why I've gone along with it these many years; I saw firsthand what happened when a child is given that kind of power, and the results weren't pretty. Just think for a moment—what would you expect Kyle to do if he woke up tomorrow and you had to do everything he told you to?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Valenti said in dismay. "Okay; mum's the word. But please...let me know when stuff like this happens? This town is my responsibility. If I'd known this was going down last night, I might have been able to help."

"It was an alien who died," Dee reminded him, "and an alien who killed him. Your constituents were never in danger."

" 'My' constituents?" Valenti echoed. "Everyone in this town is my 'constituent'. Everyone in this town is my responsibility, human or alien. I don't differentiate by species. Do you?"

Dee's expression softened. "No...but most people would. Except your father. He felt the same way."

"My father's not exactly talkative any more," Valenti allowed, "but from what little he's said, it appears that you had a lot to do with his feeling that way."

"God knows I tried," Dee said. "I remember sitting on the steps of this very station arguing law with him. I was trying to make the protections afforded illegal aliens apply to...well...you know."

"Seriously?" Valenti chuckled. "I'd love to hear that one…" He stopped, his eyes far away. "You know, it's weird, but...I think you knew my father better than I ever did. I certainly never sat on any steps discussing anything with him."

"I know," Dee said quietly. "And I'm sorry about that. I'm also sorry that you weren't informed about what happened. That would have been my responsibility, and I didn't follow through. It won't happen again."

"Sounds like you kind of had your hands full," Valenti allowed. "Hasn't even been 24 hours. I kinda jumped the gun a little. I just feel bad for Max. He was trying so hard to be calm and detached, but you could tell that part of him was panicking."

"At least you get to have these conversations with him," Dee said ruefully. "I would dearly love to be able to support them openly, but I have to settle for roundabout methods. The Warders aren't the only one in the shadows."

"But he can't order you around, can he?" Valenti said.

"He cannot," Dee confirmed, "a point I've made many times. But even though I would try my best to influence him, what do you think an adolescent boy would do if he learned he had that kind of power? What do you think he'd do if he had someone like Michael pressuring him? I'm not sure I could stave off the worst. He needs to be more mature; we just need to keep him alive long enough to get that way."

"And encourage him to get that way," Valenti added. "Like any parent would. That's the one thing I keep remembering about that message he told me about, the one from their mother—he's somebody's kid. Doesn't matter what species he is or what planet he's from, he's somebody's kid. That's something we can both identify with—you've got a kid, I've got a kid, and if I lost that kid…"

He stopped, a look of growing horror in his eyes as he whipped his wristwatch around. "Holy shit! I forgot about Kyle!"

Dee blinked as Valenti grabbed his hat and bolted out of the office so fast, he practically knocked his chair back against the wall. Shrugging, Dee gathered up her things. She had just reached her car when her phone rang.

"Dee?" Courtney's breathless voice said. "You will never believe who just came to see me!"

"Today? I might," Dee said dryly. "The Easter Bunny? The Tooth Fairy?"

"Don't I wish," Courtney said. "It was Vanessa. She said she and Jaddo made a deal, and she wants my buy-in."

"And you're still alive," Dee noted, "which means that deal is looking more and more like it's the real…'deal'."

"This is hardly the time for groaners," Courtney said crossly. "She wants to meet me in private to go over the details. Which would be a great time to kill me."

"If she wanted to kill you, why didn't she just wait in your living room and do you in there?" Dee said. "But it doesn't matter. Jaddo told me the terms of the treaty. When does your shift end?"





**********************************************************





Evans residence






"There you are!" Diane exclaimed. "You snuck out before I got to you. It's cleaning day!"

Max blinked. "What?"

"Cleaning day?" Diane repeated. "That magical day before school starts when your room is emptied out, scrubbed fresh, and put back together minus at least a third of your stuff? Don't tell me you've forgotten; it's a tradition."

"Uh...I only ever remember doing that once," Max said. "And that was last year."

"Okay, so it's a new tradition," Diane said, linking arms with him and pulling him down the hall. "But it worked out so well last year that I've decided to make it a permanent one. I've waited all year for this."

"My room's not that dirty," Max muttered.

"It's not just dirt, it's clutter. So," Diane went on briskly, "I've gotten you all set up with a fresh vacuum cleaner bag, dust cloths, trash bags, everything you need for a good, thorough cleaning."

"Don't most people do this in the spring?" Max said doubtfully as she handed him a garbage bag.

"Oh, no," Diane said, wagging a finger. "As soon as school starts, you and Izzy are gone even when you're not gone. And as soon as summer vacation starts, you're gone for different reasons. But this, the last weekend before school starts, when we're going through new school clothes and new school supplies, is the perfect time to clean house. Before there isn't any time to clean house."

"No offense, Mom, but I'd rather spend my last summer weekend doing just about anything other than cleaning," Max said.

"Exactly!" Diane beamed. "You'll clean all the faster so you can get back to your end-of-summer celebrations. See? This is the perfect time to do this. Just look at these piles of clothes. And there's a dish over there which might walk to the dishwasher all by itself…" She paused, frowning at the carpet in front of the window. "That's odd. What is that?"

In a split second, Max zoomed from peeved to terrified as Diane knelt on the carpet to the left of his window. They'd cleaned up the blood; he was sure of it...or was he? It had been so dark, and they'd been so upset, and in such a hurry. Panic-stricken as Diane bent closer to look, he aimed power at that section of the carpet, producing an audible gasp.

"Max! What did you do here? It's...it's…white."

Which is better than red, Max thought as he bent over the offending strip of carpet to find a bald, colorless patch. "I don't know," Max said. "Maybe the sun faded it?"

"This isn't faded, it's...well, I don't know what it is, but this is precisely why this room needs a thorough cleaning at least once a year," Diane huffed. "And it looks like the carpet needs shampooing. You get started, and I'll call the hardware store about renting a shampooer."

"Knock, knock?"

Isabel stood in the doorway, a rubber glove on one hand, her hair swept up in a hasty bun. "Oh, Izzy, your brother's been playing with bleach, or...something," Diane sighed. "It's probably all the coming and going through the window. Someone must have had something on their shoes. Why can't you kids use the front door like every other normal human being on the planet?"

"Maybe we're not from this planet," Max said.

"Nice try," Diane said dryly as Isabel's eyes popped, "but you're not getting off that easy. I'll go get the upholstery cleaner. The sooner we treat that, the more likely it'll come out."

Isabel kept a brittle smile on her face as her mother left the room. "Was that supposed to be funny?" she demanded. " 'Not from this planet'? And what is she talking about? What's wrong with the carpet? We cleaned it. I know we did."

"She saw something," Max said. "I don't know what, and now I won't because when I tried to fix it...that's what happened."

Isabel bent over the pale patch of carpet. "You did a Michael. Just threw power at it in a panic. Lucky for us it just changed the color instead of blowing up."

No, I didn't, Max thought. He'd gone too far, but not because he'd thrown anything; he'd been aiming like he always did, thinking about what he wanted to accomplish like he always did. He'd been feeling like this ever since Pierce, that he was stronger than he had been, that he had to throttle back his powers. And yet when he passed a hand over the offending spot, it reverted to the color of the carpet with no problem.

"Isabel, do you feel like we're getting…"

"What?" Isabel said in alarm. "Getting what?"

Max shook his head. Stronger, he'd been about to say, but Isabel wasn't ready to hear that. "Nothing. You're probably right. I just…'did a Michael'. So...I see you got drafted into the cleaning brigade too."

"If you tell anyone you saw me wearing rubber gloves, I'll throttle you," Isabel said darkly. "Mom grabbed me right after I got back from Tess's house. Where were you?"

"Talking to Valenti. I had to," Max added when Isabel's eyes widened. "He's on our side now, one of the few people who is. He needed to know. And I wanted to know if anything weird had happened lately, maybe something that could lead us to whoever killed Nasedo."

"Right," Isabel said quickly. "Right, I...I'm still struggling with the fact that he knows, that's all. So what'd he say?"

"Nothing weird to report," Max answered. "And he's sorry for our loss."

"Yeah, well, it's not like we were close," Isabel said. "It's really Tess's loss."

"How is she?" Max asked.

"She looks fine," Isabel said. "She sounds fine. But she's not fine. How could she be? But she won't show it because Nasedo taught her not to show emotion, to show weakness. And now we know why."

"We'll find out who did this," Max promised. "We'll figure it out."

Isabel gave him an anguished look. "I'm not sure I want to. He said we had enemies, and now they're here. And they're not human enemies this time, they're alien enemies. We know what Nasedo could do. What can these enemies do?"

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Max said. "Whoever it was only went for Nasedo. No one's come after us. Maybe they don't know who we are."

"Do you really believe that?" Isabel whispered.

"I have to," Max said soberly. "It's the way I stay sane."

"So, what, we're going to just go back to school like nothing's happened?" Isabel said.

"Do you have a better idea?" Max asked. "I didn't think so," he went on when her eyes dropped. "Besides, we need some normalcy right now. I could stand to get out of this bedroom and stop looking at where he fell through the window and…" He stopped as they stood in awkward silence for a moment. "Let's just say I won't mind having other things to think about. Plus it'll be harder for anyone to get at us in school—it's too public."

"So we just go back to English and Social Studies, and do our alien murder investigation on the side," Isabel said in a deeply skeptical voice.

"That's right," Max said. "Valenti said he'd keep his eyes open, but an alien did this, which means it's up to us. We'll have to figure it out ourselves. There's no one else to do it for us."





**********************************************************




Glenwood, New Mexico





"That'll be $20.56," the convenience store clerk announced. "Read the sign, bud," he added sternly, pointing to a bedraggled piece of paper taped to the aging cash register which announced "No bills above $20". "We've only got about 300 people living here. We don't get fifties."

"My apologies," Brivari said, digging in his wallet. "Oh, and I need a pack of Marlboros. Black Menthols."

The clerk let out a low whistle. "High test?" he said appreciatively. "Like those myself. None of that 'light' or 'ultra light' crap. I mean, if you're gonna smoke, why not smoke, know what I'm sayin'? Go for the good stuff. Go all the way!"

"Indeed," Brivari agreed.

The clerk turned to scour the wall of cigarettes behind him as Brivari turned his attention to the video surveillance monitor tucked high in the corner above the front counter. A moment later the video was rewinding, the hours flying backwards as the clerk frowned and muttered, searching diligently for what he would not find, completely missing the rapidly flickering video.

"Guess we're out of those," the clerk said.

"Could you please double check?" Brivari asked, having chosen that brand precisely because of its absence. "I'm quite partial to them."

"I'm a Gold man myself," the clerk allowed, "but I hear ya. I'll go take a peek in the back." He vanished into a small room behind the counter, reappearing a minute later with a regretful shake of the head. "Sorry, man, but...whoa. What was that?"

"What was what?" Brivari asked.

The clerk stared at the monitor, now obediently showing their conversation. "I...uh...never mind," the clerk said. "We're all out of of the Black Menthols. Not much of anywhere to get them around here either. If you're heading over the border to Arizona, you could try the gas station right on the other side."

"I'll do that," Brivari answered. "Thank you."

The tiny town of Glenwood was nearly deserted when he exited the store despite the fact that this was a Saturday afternoon. He was indeed headed over the Arizona border, but not for cigarettes. His quarry had appeared on the surveillance tape, disheveled and badly injured, although he'd managed to hide it. It appeared Jaddo had managed to give almost as well as he'd gotten, with "almost" being the operative word there. But no matter.

It wouldn't be long now before he finished the job.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 23 on Sunday, February 1.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE




September 9, 2000, 5:30 p.m.

Roswell, New Mexico





"So, how was it?" Valenti asked. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yup," Kyle answered.

"What about the weather? Did it behave?"

"Yup."

"Was the food edible?"

"Yup."

Valenti glanced at his son, who was staring out the window. "Did the coaches know their stuff?"

"Yup."

"Get anyone pregnant?"

Kyle shook his head. "Nice try, Dad."

"And it worked," Valenti noted. "I was trying to figure out if you weren't listening or just weren't interested in answering."

"And you have your answer!" Kyle said with mock enthusiasm. "Let's hear it for the master interrogator."

"I'm not trying to 'interrogate' you," Valenti protested. "I'm just interested. I haven't seen you for weeks. I missed you."

"So that's why you were two hours late picking me up," Kyle said. "Now I get it."

"I already explained that," Valenti said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, "and apologized."

"Oh, I know," Kyle assured him. "I'm just connecting the dots."

"You're just being a dick," Valenti said flatly.

"No, I have a dick," Kyle corrected. "At least I did last time I looked, which would have been my second trip to the bathroom while I was waiting two hours for you to pick me up."

"Why is it that when you're busy and blow me off, I'm just supposed to accept it, but when I'm busy, you go all pissy girl on me?" Valenti demanded.

"So you're saying you blew me off?" Kyle said.

"So you're admitting you blow me off?" Valenti retorted.

" 'Course I do," Kyle shrugged. "I'm a kid. I'm supposed to blow my parents off. It's the whole 'becoming your own person' thing, or at least that's what the school psychologist says."

"Yeah, well, start 'becoming your own person' by stop acting like your mother," Valenti said bitterly. "God knows she was a master of the silent treatment. Looks like you take after her."

Ouch. Valenti felt a twinge of regret as that last grenade hit home; Kyle never liked hearing anything bad about his mother. It was downright unfair how the absent parent wound up on a pedestal, that very absence cloaking them in a saintly glow all out of proportion to the truth. Without regular exposure to the absent parent's faults and foibles, children of divorce built them into the hero they wanted them to be, while the parent present and accounted for enjoyed no such largesse. Nope, when you lived with them, taught them, disciplined them, there was nowhere to hide from the harsh glare of adolescent judgment.

"That was a low blow," Kyle protested.

"How so? Like it or not, you're doing exactly what she used to do."

"I don't want to hear about it," Kyle muttered.

"Oh, I'll bet you don't," Valenti said darkly. "Tell me, what is it about your mother? She hasn't seen you in ages, but her laundry list of bad habits is unmentionable. When did she turn into a saint?"

"I never said she was a saint," Kyle said sullenly.

"Guess I already answered my own question," Valenti went on, ignoring him. "It's the fact that you haven't seen her in ages that lets you make her into anything you want her to be. You don't see her, so you don't see all the warts. When mom doesn't call for six months, she's just busy, but when dad is two hours late for a very good reason, he's blowing you off."

"I never said you were blowing me off," Kyle argued.

"No, you just implied it. I told you I lost track of time. Losing track of time isn't blowing you off; blowing you off is a conscious decision. You know, like the one your mother makes when she doesn't return your phone calls?"

"It's not that you lost track of time, it's why you lost track of time," Kyle retorted.

"I told you why—someone was murdered. That's not important enough to lose track of time?"

"Not 'someone'—an alien," Kyle said bitterly. "Or should I say 'another alien', because we seem to be to ass deep in aliens these days."

The light up ahead turned red, and Valenti's car screeched to a halt in a decidedly unsheriff-like fashion, drawing stares from nearby drivers. Great. Just great.

"So you're saying an alien death doesn't count like a human death?" Valenti said. "That an alien is somehow 'less than'?"

"I didn't say that," Kyle protested.

"Yeah, you kinda did. So if I'd been late because of a human death, that would have been okay with you? Your version of the silent treatment is species specific? Someone died, Kyle! Died!"

"Yeah, I know what 'died' means, Dad!" Kyle exclaimed. "I was dead, remember?"

"I thought you said you didn't remember."

"I don't need to!" Kyle exclaimed. "You keep reminding me! Every chance you get, you remind me that I died, and Max Evans saved me. And every chance I get, I point out that he's the reason I died in the first place—"

"No, he isn't. You are."

Kyle blinked. "Say what?"

"You didn't stay put," Valenti said. "You shouldn't have been anywhere near that UFO Center. I told you to stay put for a very good reason that should finally be apparent, but you didn't do what I told you to do!"

"You didn't tell me a damned thing!" Kyle snapped. "You were MIA! It was Evans who told me to 'stay put', and I'd just had Creepy Suit Guy holding me hostage, so why should I listen to him? Crappy choice of messenger, Dad."

"I couldn't come!" Valenti exclaimed. "I was too busy trying to deal with Psychotic Alien Hunter—"

"But I didn't know that!" Kyle broke in. "All I knew was that my dad was missing and his idiot deputies didn't seem to have figured that out. I didn't stay put because of you! I went looking for you! I just…" Kyle stopped, frustration evident on his face until suddenly, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hands falling into his lap. "You will not be punished for your anger, you will be punished by your anger," he intoned.

Valenti stared at him. "What?"

"No conditions are permanent," Kyle said, his eyes still closed. "No conditions are reliable. Nothing is self."

"That's what you were babbling back at the bus station," Valenti said, mystified. "What on earth are you talking about?"

The light turned green. Valenti started forward, more carefully this time, as Kyle shook his head, his eyes still closed. "What on 'earth'. Every time I hear that expression now, I…"

"Roll your eyes?" Valenti suggested.

Kyle thought for a moment. "Smile," he corrected. "Because it's supposed to make it sound so big, and now it sounds so…"

"Small," Valenti finished.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "That."

Calmer now, Kyle opened his eyes. They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"It's good that we did that," Kyle said finally. "Had it out about what happened, I mean. We didn't before I left."

"Yeah, well...it was still kind of raw," Valenti said, chagrined that he'd managed to yell at his kid mere minutes after his homecoming.

"You mean it's not now? No, no, you're right," Kyle went on, cutting off a flood of apologies. "I didn't do what you told me to. I went after you because I was afraid you were in trouble...and then I untied the madman and handed him a gun which he tried to kill you with. I just made everything worse." He paused. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know," Valenti said gruffly. "And you meant well."

Kyle winced. "Thanks, Dad. So did the Psychotic Alien Hunter. Will that get him off the hook?"

"No," Valenti said flatly, "because your 'meaning well' didn't involve trying to gun down eight people. Your 'meaning well' gets you brownie points."

"When you're not slapping me upside the head for trying in the first place," Kyle noted. "Face it—two Valenti's equals one giant clusterfuck."

"Nah," Valenti said. "You need at least three people for a clusterfuck."

They reached another red light, sans screeching this time, looked at each other...and burst out laughing. After the heated exchange of a few moments ago, the release was welcome, even if it did draw stares from nearby drivers for the second traffic light in a row. He'd bet the rent he was going to get phone calls about this one.

"If you're not going to tell me anything about football camp, will you at least tell me what the babbling is about?" Valenti said when their chuckles had finally subsided.

"It's Buddhism, Dad, not babbling. Don't judge," Kyle added sternly as Valenti contemplated doing just that. "I needed a way to deal with what had happened, and that helped. End of story."

"Buddhists?" Valenti said, gobsmacked. "At a football camp?"

"Wow," Kyle said dryly. "Who would have thought that Buddhists would trip you out more than aliens?"

"Buddhists," Valenti repeated. "At a football camp."

Kyle shrugged. "Some guys will try anything to win. I found it useful for an entirely different reason. And it works, see? I'm not mad any more."

"Jesus," Valenti muttered.

"Nope, no Jesus in Buddhism," Kyle reported.

"No, I meant, Jesus, I think I liked you better mad," Valenti said. "At least I'm used to that."

"Yeah, well, I have to get used to aliens, and you have to get used to Buddha," Kyle said. "Trade ya."

Fair point, Valenti allowed. "Guess I can't argue with success," he said grudgingly. "And it sure beats seeing a shrink."

"Why?" Kyle said suspiciously. "Were you going to send me to a shrink?"

"No. Max Evans' parents made him see a shrink all summer. They don't know what happened, but they know something did."

Kyle pondered that for a moment. "So he had to lie all summer," he said finally. "That sucks."

"It does," Valenti agreed.

"I think I prefer yelling at each other," Kyle said. "At least we both know what really happened."

They had reached the house, mercifully absent any tailgaters wondering why their sheriff was shouting and screeching. "I'm glad to have you back, son," Valenti said as he pulled Kyle's bag out of the trunk. "It was an empty house without you."

"Probably quieter, too," Kyle noted.

"Too quiet," Valenti agreed. "I'll take yelling any day. I tried to clean up for you," he went on as they headed into the house. "Afraid I stashed a few things in your room while you were gone; I'll get those out in just a minute here."

"Yeah, it's fine," Kyle said. "About Noriega—"

"Nasedo."

"Whatever. Wasn't one of them living with him?"

"Yeah. Tess. Why?"

Kyle shifted his bag uncomfortably to the other hand. "Well...what happened to her? Or what's going to happen to her?"

"Not sure," Valenti admitted. "He only died last night."

"Did you check on her?"

"No," Valenti said. "Haven't had time."

"Don't you think you should? I mean, she's a kid all by herself, even if she is an alien."

"Good idea," Valenti said. "I'll do that after we get you settled—"

"I don't need help 'getting settled'," Kyle broke in. "I live here, remember? Football camp wasn't that long. And I didn't come home to an empty house, but Tess will. She's living the nightmare that made me go after you. You should check on her."

Valenti stared at him for a moment. "Okay. Does this count as blowing you off?"

Kyle smiled faintly. "Not when it's my idea."





*********************************************************





Harding residence






Tess heaved the last stack onto the dining room table only seconds before it spilled out of her arms; it spilled onto the table instead, knocking over other stacks in the process. All the piles of mail Nasedo had so derided now resided here, the better to re-sort them; doing that in his bedroom, sitting on the bed he'd never sleep in again, was just too depressing. Reality was intruding, having seriously reared its ugly head shortly after Isabel had left. The slumber party had been fun and allowed her to ignore it a while longer, but that couldn't go on forever. She now had exactly one and half days before school started again, one and a half days before she could lose herself in that blessed nonsense she was usually so impatient with. She needed to fill those one and a half days, and sorting through the mail seemed like a good way to do it. Nasedo had been going to, but…

But he's dead, she thought, those damnable tears welling up again. Funny how someone so emotionless could inspire emotion. Or was she really just crying for herself because she was alone? Hard to tell; could be either or both, and she'd plopped into a dining room chair and attacked the first stack before it occurred to her that there was one, if only one, good thing about Nasedo being gone.

Setting the bills down, Tess climbed the stairs to Nasedo's empty bedroom. She'd never taken the alien box from the wall hideaway. She'd thought about doing so many times, but even though his room no longer seemed frightening after he'd left for Washington, it had reverted to its former scary self whenever she'd contemplated removing that box. She never knew when Nasedo was going to reappear, and even though he did so infrequently, she was willing to bet that one of those infrequent times would be just as she withdrew the box from the wall. Or if she dodged that bullet, she'd put it back differently, or wrong, or leave some telltale clue that she'd been messing with it. But now it didn't matter. He'd never walk in on her unexpectedly again, never complain about her filing system, never notice anything she did, right or wrong. It was free for the taking. That should feel good, at least on some level.

It didn't.

Moving slowly, Tess sat on the edge of the bed, passed her hand over the wall to reveal the handprint, and reached inside. It was there, right next to the metal box which held the documentation of their human lives, its sharp corners a sharp contrast to the rounded corners of the alien box. She pulled it out, turning it over and over in her hands, marveling at how light it was, how smooth, how gray, how orb-like; look quick, and it could almost be mistaken for a large orb. The galaxy symbol swirled on top, and she held her hand over it hesitantly—would she set off some kind of alarm? But nothing happened, nothing at all; the box sat there impassively, waiting for its master who had most likely reset it the moment he'd arrived back in town. She'd find out whatever the timer had been set for because she'd have to wait that long. How terribly inconvenient that Nasedo had died at the beginning of a timer cycle…

KnockKnock

Startled, Tess almost dropped the box. Hurrying to the window, she found a sheriff's cruiser in her driveway and a deputy-hatted someone at the front door. What the hell? Had they found out "Ed Harding" had died? How would they know that? Don't answer it, she told herself. Lots of people wouldn't be home on a Saturday afternoon.

"Miss Harding?" a voice called. "Sheriff Valenti. Are you home?"

Tess relaxed a fraction; at least it was the sheriff and not some random deputy. But "in the know" or not, she still didn't want to talk to him until she'd consulted the Others, so she ignored his repeated knocks...until she heard the front doorknob jiggling. Frantic now that the sheriff would barge in and find her holding an alien box, she shoved it back into the wall in a way which Nasedo would surely have disapproved of and hurried downstairs, throwing open the door just as Valenti was about to make good use of a lock pick.

"Miss Harding," he said. "You're home."

"Sheriff," Tess said. "You're breaking and entering. Did you need something?"

To his credit, Valenti merely pocketed the lock pick without trying to hide it. "I came over to see how you were doing."

"How I'm 'doing'? That's why you're breaking into my house?"

"I was concerned for your safety," Valenti amended. "Max told me what happened."

"What happened?" Tess said innocently.

"About Nasedo," Valenti said.

"What about him?"

"About him being murdered," Valenti said deliberately. "May I come in? I'm not really comfortable having this conversation on the front porch."

Any hope she had of keeping her current predicament to herself dashed, Tess reluctantly stepped aside. "So," she said awkwardly after she'd closed the door. "Max told you."

"Yes, he did. He wanted to know if there had been anything strange happening in town."

"There hasn't been. You would have gone to him," she went on when the sheriff raised an eyebrow. "And whoever did this wasn't after just anyone; they were after Nasedo."

"And now they may be after all of you," Valenti noted.

"I'm sorry, how is this your problem?" Tess demanded. "If someone's after us, we can take care of ourselves."

"Yeah, I've seen that," Valenti answered, "which is why this is my problem. That and the fact that any citizen being targeted in my town is my problem."

"We're not 'citizens'—"

"I beg to differ," Valenti broke in. "Wherever you're from, you live here now, which makes you a citizen and deserving of the law's protection. Same for any innocent bystanders who might be in the line of fire when you...'take care of yourselves'."

" 'The law's protection'," Tess said scornfully. "You mean like the laws Pierce was following? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Pierce was breaking the law," Valenti corrected. "Don't judge all humans by Pierce, Miss Harding. You wouldn't want me judging you by those who forced you off your planet, would you?"

Damn it, Tess thought sourly; the sheriff hadn't taken the bait, his tone calm and level despite her irritation, and to top it off, he was obviously practiced in the art of debate. "Look, I didn't come here to start an argument," Valenti went on. "I just came by to see if you needed anything."

"And why would I need anything?" Tess said.

"Gee, I don't know...maybe because your guardian just turned up stone cold dead in the marketplace?"

"Love the visual," Tess said flatly. "But I'm good. Have a nice day."

"Not so fast," Valenti said in that finger wagging tone which drove adolescents crazy. "You've got a house to look after now all by yourself, and bills coming in—"

"Don't you think we thought of that?" Tess interrupted. "I've been on my own for months now. We settled all this when Nasedo went to Washington."

"So how do you pay bills?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but we have a bank account, a big bank account," Tess answered.

"Which no one will now be contributing to," Valenti noted. "And if it's in his name—"

"It's joint. Same with the credit card."

"And...how does a 16 year-old get listed as a joint account holder on a bank account or a line of credit?"

"Same way an alien shapeshifter gets a bank account."

Valenti mused on that a moment. "Fair enough. But the house—"

"Is owned free and clear. I'll just keep paying insurance bills and taxes. No one need ever know it's not Ed Harding paying them."

"Hmm. So you could sell the house and keep the proceeds—"

"I'm not selling anything," Tess said irritably. "I'm not changing anything. I'm just going to keep on doing what I've been doing unless a good reason comes up to stop. Are we done here?"

For a moment, it appeared the answer was no. "Sure," Valenti said finally. "I'm sorry for your loss, and sorry if I upset you. Kyle suggested I stop by, and I agreed it was a good idea. If you—"

"Wait...what?" Tess broke in. "Kyle suggested you come here? I thought he was at some camp?"

"Football camp," Valenti confirmed. "Just got back. We had a bit of an argument on the way home about what happened with Pierce, and the fact that Kyle wouldn't have been in harm's way if he'd stayed home like I told him to. He said he didn't because he was worried about me, and that what's happened to you is exactly what he was afraid of. And he suggested I come over and see how you were." He paused. "I know you've been taught to live alone, survive alone; I get that. But I—we—wanted you to know that you're not alone. Not if you don't want to be." He donned his hat. "Good afternoon, Miss Harding. Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah...thanks," Tess said faintly, closing the door behind him with a lump in her throat. Valenti had been nothing but good to them recently, helping to free Max, subdue Pierce, and get Michael out of jail. Why had she just treated him like shit? Because the universe usually treats us like shit. Because there was value in the pre-emptive strike. Because the less divulged, the better. Maybe now that she was all alone, it was time to rethink that. Maybe it was time to remember that for all the times the universe kicked you in the guts, it sometimes delivered an unexpected kindness.




*********************************************************





September 10, 2000, 10 a.m.

Eastside Manor





"Okay, this looks...not as bad as I thought," Courtney allowed, gazing fixedly out the window at the single story, sprawling building up ahead.

"We're only in the parking lot," Dee said dryly. "How bad did you think the parking lot would be?"

"Give me a break," Courtney protested. "These places are legendary where I come from. It's where humans go to die."

"I think you're confusing it with a nursing home," Dee said, "although most of us die in hospitals nowadays. This is Assisted Living, not a nursing home."

"And the difference is…?"

"The people who live here are in better shape," Dee explained. "They need help with laundry, and cooking, and transportation, but they're not bedridden."

"That's a relief," Courtney muttered.

"Look, you don't have to come with me," Dee reminded her. "Jaddo asked me to do this, not you. I can always report back, and then you wouldn't have to deal with it."

Courtney stared at her hands, the better to avoid the sight of an old woman shuffling by with a walker on the sidewalk. "You could," she agreed. "And I wouldn't. But I've been trying to screw up my courage to do this ever since I came back, and...this seems to have done the trick. I want to talk to him myself. I'm going to have to talk to Larak myself."

"You could wait for Brivari," Dee reminded her.

"No, I can't," Courtney said firmly. "He may never come back, and if he does, he'll be against this. It doesn't matter what the details are, he'll be against it just because it exists."

"And you're not?"

The old woman had passed the car, with remarkable speed for one moving so haltingly. "No," Courtney answered. "Call me crazy, but I think this has a chance. At least it deserves a chance, and it won't get one from Brivari. I need to give it its best chance, and in order to do that, I need all the ammunition I can find."

Dee shook her head. "It's so strange. You hated Jaddo...and now you're filling in for him. If anyone had told me the day would ever come when you'd be championing his cause—any cause—I'd have thought they were crazy."

"Maybe I am," Courtney said wearily. "But that's why we're here, right? To get another opinion on whether we're both nuts?" She opened her door. "Let's get this over with."

It was the smell that hit her first. Walking inside was okay, on wide sidewalks linked with benches, lots of lights, and carefully tended landscaping, but as soon as the inner set of double doors opened, she got a whiff of something she'd rather she hadn't, several somethings, actually. It was hard to put a name to it, but it was a stale odor, part perspiration, part intestinal gas, part urine, all overshadowed by a strong cleaning solution which was part ammonia, if her nose served her right.

"Morning, Ralph," Dee called to a wizened old man in a chair by the door.

"Who's that?" Courtney whispered when Dee received a grunt for answer.

"That's Ralph," Dee answered. "He likes to sit by the door and watch everyone coming and going, especially on weekends when families visit. Follow me."

Like I'm going to wander off on my own, Courtney thought, glued to Dee's side as she hung a left down a very long hallway with railings on either side. Is this what life was reduced to when humans grew old and frail? Parked by a door to watch people come and go, leaning on walkers and railings as they shuffled along, heads bowed? Antarians still died, but they had mastered the art of keeping themselves reasonably functional until the end. This level of impairment was pretty much unknown where she came from. And yet…

...and yet by the time the very long hallway opened into a sunny living room-type space, she'd noticed something: Very few people looked unhappy. Reason dictated they should be miserable, but that didn't appear to be the case. Those bowed heads rose when she and Dee approached, faces breaking into smiles, greetings given; she hadn't had this many strangers greet her so cheerfully since...well, since never. Those steps may be shuffling, but they were remarkably brisk; some of these people were whizzes with their walkers, zipping along and steering around slower compatriots with an ease which belied their need to use a walker in the first place. In the living area, several people clustered around a television, watching the news intently and petting a...cat?

"They have a cat?" Courtney said.

"Two, actually," Dee answered, "one in the east wing, one in the west. They eyeball each other in the central dining room sometimes, but otherwise they keep to their respective wings."

"Hey, baby," Courtney murmured to the tubby gray long-hair who had jumped off the couch to inspect her.

"That cat is so spoiled," Dee chuckled. "It gets petted and fed treats all day. It's a wonder it can still walk. This way."

Dee vectored down a side hallway and paused outside a door which bore a sign reading "David and Emily Proctor". "What are we waiting for?" Courtney asked.

"Brivari only ever got this far the first time he came here," Dee noted. "I had a quite a time getting him into the apartment. Last chance to change your mind."

"And Jaddo never came at all," Courtney said, shaking her head. "Royal Warders, the scourge of Antar...and what frightens them are old humans. I'll be happy to outdo them. Let's go." Before I change my mind, she added silently, bracing herself as Dee knocked twice, then opened the door on a surprisingly large apartment. "Wow," Courtney said, taking in the living room, decent sized kitchen, fireplace, and outdoor patio. "This is nicer than my house. I don't have a fireplace."

"And I'm not sure why they do in this climate," Dee said. "I think it's just part of a national floor plan. Daddy? Mama?" she called. "I'm here, and I've brought an old friend with me."

There was a shuffling sound from the patio outside, and a moment later an old man appeared at the door, white-haired and slower moving than Courtney remembered, but still recognizable. "Look who's here!" David exclaimed, a wide smile on his face. "Welcome back, sweetheart! Dee told us you were back in town."

Hugely relieved to find David still vertical and sane, Courtney suddenly blushed. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm sorry I haven't visited," she babbled self-consciously. "I...I…"

"Have trouble with the whole concept of getting old," David finished gently. "I know; don't we all. Emily? Emily, look who's here!"

Dee's hand slipped into hers, and a second later, Courtney realized why. She'd been warned that Emily had slipped in her later years, but nothing prepared her for the stooped back, the hesitant gait, the confused expression on the face of the woman who had accepted her, hidden her, taught her. "Oh!" Emily said in surprise. "Who's this, now? Is this the new aide?"

"This is Courtney," Dee answered. "Remember Courtney?"

Courtney stood perfectly still as Emily peered at her without recognition. "Do we know each other?" Emily asked.

"We used to," Courtney said in a brittle voice. "Once. A long time ago."

"I'm afraid my memory's not what it used to be," Emily said, shaking her head. "Did I behave myself when we knew each other?"

"Oh, yeah," Courtney whispered. "You were brilliant."

"Was I?" Emily stared at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Well, good for me. I do seem to recall I was something of a hardass."

The edge to the voice which accompanied that last observation brought a rush of tears to Courtney's eyes as the merest whisper of the indomitable woman she remembered so fondly flashed before her eyes. "Only when you needed to be," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Sometimes we all need to be."

"Daddy, could we talk alone?" Dee whispered to David.

"Honey, why don't you back to the Wentworth's?" David suggested to Emily. "We were just visiting the next door neighbors," he explained to Courtney.

"All right," Emily said, not even curious as to why she was being dismissed. But she paused before stepping onto the patio and smiled at Courtney. "It was nice to meet you, dear."

"Yeah," Courtney agreed sadly. "Same here."

"She might recognize you later," David said after Emily had shuffled along next door. "Sometimes it takes her a while to remember Brivari."

"I'm afraid we don't have time for that today," Dee said in a low voice. "Daddy...Jaddo's dead."

"Oh dear," David said, crestfallen. "I'm sorry to hear that. But how…?"

"He was murdered," Courtney said quietly. "By one of my people."

"I see," David said heavily.

"But before he died, he'd made a...a bargain of sorts," Dee went on, "a compromise to allow the kids to go home safely."

"We want to know what you think of it," Courtney rushed on, "because I'm going to have to take a position for or against, and I'd really like to hear your take on it."

"Plus Jaddo asked me to run it by you," Dee added, "because he knew Brivari would listen to you—"

"Wait, wait," David broke in. "I'm flattered you want my opinion, although I'm not at all sure how much good it will do you, but...do I understand you correctly that Jaddo made some kind of treaty?"

"I know he's not the treaty making type," Dee said, "but yes, he did."

"And is that why he's dead now?" David asked.

"Maybe. Probably. We don't know," Courtney admitted. "Brivari's out chasing whoever killed him, and since he was the last one to see him alive, we won't know the details until he's back. And we need to settle this before he gets back because when he gets wind of it…"

"Right," David nodded, needing no further explanation. "Got it. All right—first question," he went on, sinking into a chair. "Jaddo made a bargain...with whom?"





********************************************************




Congresswoman Vanessa Whitaker's Office






"Any calls?" Vanessa asked her assistant.

Knee deep in files, Rose chuckled. "Not on a Sunday. Why, were you expecting to hear from someone?"

Yes. "No," Vanessa said. "Just curious. Take the rest of the day off, Rose. Parker can help you with all of that tomorrow. I'm going back to the hotel anyway."

Or not, Vanessa thought as Rose hurried to her car. It was highly unlikely that Jaddo would return to either hotel room after having been captured in his and held captive in hers; her office was as neutral a space as any, so perhaps she should stay here. But there had been no word from him, and she was beginning to grow uneasy. She'd released him Friday night; it was now Sunday afternoon. Shouldn't she have heard from him by now? Had his capture changed his mind about their arrangement? If he turned on her, he could cause a world of hurt…

Vanessa pulled a file drawer open. She hadn't listened to many of the recordings because she hadn't needed to, but perhaps she should start. Because if this deal didn't work out, she'd need a back-up plan, and the girl who'd been miraculously healed was the most likely person to lead her straight to what she wanted to find.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~




I'll post Chapter 24 on Sunday, February 15.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



September 11, 2000, 7:30 a.m.

West Roswell High School





Welcome Back! screamed the banner swinging over the front door as Tess mounted the school's front steps with throngs of other students, some of whom looked happy to be back, some definitely not. Usually she was in the latter group, school being a generally boring and hazardous place what with having to hide her true identity and all. Today, however, for the first time, she was in the happy group, although not for the usual reasons of wanting to see friends, join clubs, or sniff pencils. School was the one place Nasedo had avoided as much as possible, partly because of the hazards of giving them away, but mostly because he couldn't stand humans. This made school the one place where she wouldn't expect to see him, where she wouldn't hear a noise or see a shadow and think, for just a split second, that he was back. Reality had truly set in following Sheriff Valenti's visit, with the weekend dragging in a house which now seemed much larger and emptier. School had abruptly become a place of refuge, and threading through the throngs to find this year's locker, she felt almost normal, not even minding when the combination didn't work and she had to use her powers to open it. She was going to enjoy every single minute of this reprieve until the final bell rang and she went home to a cavernous house which would remain that way indefinitely. Feeling almost peaceful, she began loading books and notebooks into the locker.

"This rots."

Tess peered around her locker door to find Michael leaning against the lockers. "What rots? Being out of jail?"

"Funny. Being back in school."

"I hear you," Tess said. "School was always boring for me."

"That's not what I meant. We shouldn't be here, not with Nasedo dead and his killer still out there."

"Then where should we be?" Tess asked. "Hiding in a closet? Because I tried that, and that rots."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You serious?"

"When Max was captured and Nasedo was missing...well, dead," Tess amended, "or shot, anyway. I kind of freaked out that night. My worst nightmare had come true; the Special Unit had captured one of us, and I was scared they'd figured out who Nasedo was posing as and where to find him, which meant they knew where to find me. I spent the night in the kitchen closet with booby traps all over the house so I'd hear anyone coming, and I woke up feeling like a fool. If I was really worried about them coming for me, I shouldn't have holed up in a closet; I shouldn't have stayed there at all."

"See, this is what I'm saying," Michael argued. "Nasedo said we had enemies, and then one of those enemies kills him. We should leave. All of us. Now."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere," Michael answered. "Anywhere that isn't here."

"And what makes you think they won't follow us?" Tess said. "Sometimes running is the worst thing you can do. Sometimes they're watching to see who runs because then they know who to follow."

Michael pondered that for a moment before whacking the locker behind him with his fist, having obviously not considered that flight might have a downside. "Damn it! I wish we at least knew who we were up against!"

"We do," Tess said. "Nasedo called them 'the Skins', and you found a weird piece of skin out where the bones were buried. That can't be a coincidence."

"Probably not, but that doesn't tell us anything useful," Michael fretted.

"Sure it does. Why would Nasedo call them 'Skins'? Why that name? Think," Tess ordered as Michael snorted, apparently not in a deductive mood. "I spent my whole life wondering what I looked like in that other life. Nasedo never let me see, and when we brought him back the first time and his body cycled through all those shapes, I finally got to see what I used to look like, which was pretty close to all those alien stories."

"So?" Michael said impatiently.

"So it's reasonable to assume that other people from our planet look like we did," Tess went on. "Have you seen any little gray men wandering around here? Short, big eyes, big hands? No? Why not? How is it that they're here, but we don't see them?"

"I don't know," Michael said peevishly. "They're probably shapeshifters."

"Maybe," Tess allowed. "But my point is that they look human. Which means they could be anywhere or everywhere. They could be here, or anywhere we run to. You think running will solve everything, but take it from someone who's spent her life running—it won't. Sooner or later they catch up with you, just like the Special Unit caught up with me."

"Then I'd rather it be later," Michael retorted. "Max just doesn't want to leave because he's attached to this place and those people he calls parents. Isabel's even worse."

"They have something very special," Tess said wistfully, "something you and I never had. I don't blame them for wanting to keep it. Or defend it."

"Well, I do," Michael declared. "You have to talk to Max and make him see that 'just go back to school' is just plain stupid."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he listens to you," Michael answered. "About things like this, anyway. He sure as hell isn't listening to me."

"He won't listen to me either," Tess said. "Try Liz or Isabel."

"Liz would say this isn't any of her business—"

"And she'd be right," Tess noted.

"—and the last thing Isabel wants to do is leave Mommy and Daddy. That leaves you and me to see sense."

"What makes you so sure I agree with you?" Tess said.

"You, of all people, should want to find Nasedo's killer," Michael argued. "You, of all people, should realize how dangerous it is to stay here with a murderer on the loose."

"Of course I want to find Nasedo's killer," Tess said. "But I, of all people, know firsthand that anywhere we go is dangerous. It's dangerous just to be us. Max and Isabel may want to stay with 'Mommy and Daddy', but I have nothing like that holding me here, and I'm still with Max on this one—running comes with its own dangers, so I think we should stay put unless there's a clear advantage to leaving or no other option."

"Would a 'clear advantage' be not winding up dead?" Michael huffed.

"Whoever killed Nasedo knew what they were doing," Tess said. "If they know who we are and wanted us dead, we'd already be dead."

"And you know this how?" Michael demanded.

"By using all that experience you think Max will listen to, but you won't," Tess said pointedly. "Besides, Max is the king; if he says we stay put, we stay put."

"Being king doesn't make him right," Michael retorted. "What do you do when the king's wrong?"

"Try to convince him you're right," Tess shrugged. "Knock yourself out, soldier. I gotta get to class."

"We killed him, you know," Michael said hotly as she pushed past him. "Nasedo's dead because of us."

Tess stopped dead in her tracks. A few kids nearby gave them strange looks, but quickly lost interest amid the first day hullabaloo. "Nice one, Michael," Tess hissed. "You're so worried about being followed, and you just yell his name down the hall? Why don't you just blurt out the secret of our existence to everyone and their mother? Oh, that's right—you just did!"

Michael took her arm and guided her to the edge of the busy hallway. "Look, I'm just...frustrated. No one's listening to me."

"Because they don't agree with you," Tess said flatly.

"Because they're caught up in a human fantasy family," Michael corrected.

"What, you think I'm caught up in a 'fantasy family'?" Tess demanded. "I'm the one who just lost the only protector I've ever known!"

"I know, I know, I...I'm just gonna give up before I dig myself in deeper," Michael muttered. "This is like talking to Maria."

"Oh, no it isn't," Tess retorted. "It's worse, buster, way worse. What did you mean, 'we' killed him? Because I think I'd remember killing my only guardian."

Michael's eyes dropped. "We activated the orbs. He warned us not to, but we did it anyway."

"Because we wanted to know," Tess said. "We all wanted to know, you, me, Max, even Isabel, even though she won't admit it. And I don't regret doing it. Nasedo wasn't a fountain of information, but that message confirmed what little he told me. Everybody thinks I'm some boyfriend-stealing interloper, but Max was my husband, and we're all here for a very important reason. All of you heard it, and now all of you know I'm not just making it up. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, enemies or no enemies."

"Even if it kills your protector?" Michael said.

"Nice try," Tess said acidly, "but the guilt trip won't work. We didn't know that was going to happen. We'd all do things differently if we knew ahead of time how they would work out, but life doesn't have a rewind, so we make the best decisions we can at the time and live with the results. We didn't kill Nasedo; we made a decision. Nasedo was killed by a Skin, and you'd do all of us a big favor if you'd stop fighting your king, and spend your time figuring out who—or what—that is."





**********************************************************





Crashdown Cafe






"More coffee?" Courtney asked.

Sheriff Valenti set down the front section of the paper which bore a headline screaming "Spotty Phone Service All Over The Southwest—Terrorism?". "Yeah, to go. I gotta get to the station."

"You look tired, sheriff," Courtney remarked. "Rough night?"

"Didn't sleep well," Valenti admitted. "You look kind of pooped yourself."

"I didn't sleep well either," Courtney allowed.

"Oh? What kept you up?"

Courtney smiled faintly. "Ever been in a position where you have to make a decision which could screw up the entire world?"

Valenti thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Can't say I have. Thankfully, I've only ever been in a position to screw up my own little corner of it." He donned his hat and accepted the styrofoam cup she offered him. "Good luck with whatever's keeping you awake."

What's keeping me awake is what's keeping you awake, Courtney thought silently as the sheriff left, although the world in question was hers, not his. Talking with David Proctor yesterday had been enormously helpful, but she'd found it difficult to focus in that apartment; even though Emily had left after their brief encounter, she couldn't seem to put out of her mind how that once strong woman was now withered with age. It wasn't until she'd returned home that she'd truly begun to digest her and David's conversation and turn over the various alternatives in her mind, a process which had lasted most of the night until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion mere minutes before she had to get up for work. Despite all the fretting, she was no closer to a decision than she had been. There were just too many variables, too many unknowns, too many options which could work brilliantly or doom Antar to endless war...and her support could tip the balance either way. No pressure, she thought wearily as she cleared away the sheriff's dishes. If only her father could see her now. He hadn't even wanted her to come on this mission. How had a lowly operative like her wound up in the middle of the board, surrounded by competing players in the high stakes game of thrones? It was downright comical, or it would be if it weren't so deadly serious.

Her phone rang. "No, Dee, I haven't made a decision yet," she sighed as she pulled it out of her pocket, only to bolt into the back when she saw the number on the display. "Cover me," she blurted as she rushed past a frowning Agnes into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

"It's about time," Courtney exclaimed. "Where are you? Do you know who killed him? Did you find them?"

"Irrelevant, yes, and I will soon," Brivari answered. "Jaddo and I connected before he died, and he was able to show me enough to go on. It was a standard issue operative, a male, and he's badly injured."

"So...Vanessa didn't kill Jaddo?" Courtney said.

"Of course Vanessa killed him," Brivari said sharply. "I'd been warning him for months that she was going to figure him out, and she obviously did. Naturally she wouldn't do the deed herself. She delegated."

"But...Dee said Jaddo told you it wasn't Vanessa—"

"I don't care what he told me. She's mixed up in this somehow. Has there been any sign of Nicholas or reinforcements in town?"

"Nope," Courtney answered, noting that, so far, Vanessa's version of events was holding water. "Looks like whoever did it wasn't able to get a message out."

"Jaddo destroyed his communicator, and I've been disrupting phone service all over the place," Brivari said.

"The humans noticed," Courtney said dryly. "So you're the terrorist."

"No, I'm chasing a terrorist. Jaddo did a number on him, yet he's still managed to stay irritatingly one step ahead of me. But he can't do that forever."

Score one for us, Courtney thought in a brief moment of solidarity with a fellow Argilian, albeit of the enemy variety. She knew how much effort it took to avoid a Royal Warder when healthy, never mind injured, and she shivered involuntarily at the thought of being holed up somewhere while stalked by certain death. "I didn't call to chat," Brivari went on. "I need you to do something for me."

" 'Chat'?" Courtney said. "You call this 'chatting'?"

"Call it what you like, it's wasting time. I need you to go to Jaddo's house and find something for me."

"Find what?"

"Irrelevant. It will be hidden, very likely well hidden. Make sure Ava's not around when you're looking."

"So you want me to toss the Queen's house looking for I-don't-know-what, which is well hidden you-don't-know-where?"

"This is serious," Brivari snapped. "Are you familiar with serious?"

"Hell, no!" Courtney retorted. "I'm all about puppies and rainbows! My father died here, Jaddo just died here, I'm probably going to die here, and you want to know if I do 'serious'? Condescending, much?"

"I just don't have time for our usual thrust and parry," Brivari said, although the edge had left his voice. "What I'm looking for—"

"Don't you mean what I'm looking for?"

"What you're looking for will be sealed in an Antarian lockbox," Brivari continued. "He would have secreted it somewhere with a handprint lock, which is why I can't send Dee."

"What's in the box?" Courtney asked. "And if you say 'irrelevant', I'm hanging up on you."

"Something Jaddo took from me when he left town with Ava."

"So it's personal," Courtney noted. "Let me guess—we're not talking about a library book or your grandmother's silver tea service."

"It doesn't matter," Brivari said peevishly. "You're looking for a box. He'll have timed the lock so no one will be able to open it until the timer runs out."

"And when they do, what will they find?" Courtney said deliberately. "Tell me what's in the box, Brivari, or you can find your own damn box."

An irritated sigh floated over the line as Courtney paced the tiny bathroom, plenty irritated herself. "The key to the Granolith."

Courtney stopped pacing. "Wait...he took that?"

"Yes, and I need it back," Brivari said impatiently. "Do try to keep up."

"But...shouldn't that go to the king?" Courtney asked.

"You've seen the king. The king is not himself. Are you prepared to just hand him something like that?"

No, Courtney admitted silently. She couldn't even hand it to Rath; with his zeal to go home, he might use it, and if the royals went home now, they'd be dead before they got a chance to return their tray tables to an upright and locked position. The way had to be paved…

"I don't have all day!" Brivari exclaimed. "Will you do this, or—"

"Keep your pants on," Courtney interrupted. "I'll do it. I just…"

"Just what?" Brivari demanded.

Courtney hesitated. If she was going to test these particular waters, now might be her only chance, but she had to do it without giving away anything crucial. "Vanessa was in here earlier," Courtney said. "She didn't see me, but I heard her. She doesn't seem to realize 'Pierce' is dead."

"So?"

"So...I'm wondering about what Jaddo said about it not being her," Courtney went on. "That's odd, don't you think?"

"No, I don't 'think'," Brivari said coldly. "I don't care what he said as he gasped his last breath—Vanessa is ultimately responsible for his death, and the only reason she's still breathing is that she's number two on that list. As soon as I'm finished with number one, she will be enjoy my full attention. Find that box."

The line went dead. Seething with frustration, Courtney begged off the rest of her shift by citing the ever-popular female troubles and headed toward Jaddo's house, only to think better of it and change direction. Ten minutes later she approached the school, teeming with freshly scrubbed high schools students on opening day and now one conflicted Argilian contemplating something downright radical. It was clear that Brivari would never listen to the deal. Even if he stayed his hand long enough for her to relay it, his mind was closed; what would always have been a hard sell was now impossible to sell. But having gone through the fine print, she believed it deserved consideration, and David Proctor agreed with her. Even if it was ultimately rejected, it should be rejected on its merits or lack thereof, not because the King's Warder was on the warpath. The list of people to discuss it with was depressingly short...but shouldn't that list include the King? This was about his throne and his family, so why shouldn't he be involved in the deliberations about that throne and family's future? Granted he wasn't himself, but perhaps bringing him into the inner circle would induce him to be himself? She wouldn't hand him the key to the Granolith, but handing him the details of an armistice was different; the worst he could do was accept it or reject it, either of which could happen anyway and either of which could be good or bad, just like her pulling him into this could be good...or bad.

Still conflicted, Courtney threaded through the hallways, catching a glimpse of Ava stalking away from Rath and following Rath to a confrontation with Vilandra and Zan. The three parted and she followed Zan, only to pull back when he slowed as though sensing her presence. Suddenly alarmed, she retreated to the girls' restroom, just now emptying of the last stragglers. That near miss had knocked some sense into her. What was she thinking? Had she lost her mind? In order to pull Zan into this, she would have to reveal herself—was she really prepared to do that? Brivari would be drop-dead furious with her—was she really prepared to deal with that? There was so much possible fallout from this idea that she really needed to go over the logistics with Dee, with David, with someone, not blurt it out to the King in the middle of a high school hallway.

A bell rang, students scattered, and Courtney scattered with them, right back out the front door. Ava was here, so now was a good time to hunt for Brivari's precious box, something she was now eager to do and for an incredibly ironic reason—she wanted to give the deal at least a fighting chance, and her only hope of doing so was to keep at least one of its authors alive. In order to do that she needed leverage, so if she could find that box, she could hide it herself and use the prospect of its return to slow Brivari down. Blackmail a Royal Warder? she thought dryly as she hurried down the steps of the school. Save Vanessa's life? God Almighty, but she really had lost her mind.





*********************************************************





UFO Center





"Four weeks?" Brody said in disbelief. "Are you telling me I have to wait another month to close on my house? I sent those papers in weeks ago!"

Brody sighed heavily as his lawyer blathered on about them not being received until just recently despite his having mailed them ages ago, the postmark being recent, mail getting stuck in sorting machines, etc., etc., etc. The bottom line was that necessary paperwork hadn't been filed with the state, which meant his house, his cute little empty house a mile or two away from here, was now at least a month out of reach. "Okay, okay, so they didn't get there until now," Brody said crossly. "It doesn't matter why, they just didn't. But a month? I have to sleep in the museum for another month?"

More blather. "Are you sure Sharon isn't behind this?" Brody demanded. "Because she just sent me another e-mail claiming she was never going to let Sydney visit me here, that I'd have to come to her, and I told her she was full of it. I hope you told her the same thing."

Brody flopped back on the couch and closed his eyes as his lawyer assured him that Sharon didn't have a legal leg to stand on and counseled patience like he always did. Sharon's hackles had risen the moment she'd heard he was moving, with since settled and often contentious negotiations over visitation beginning anew now that visitation involved airplanes. His ex-wife had rejected all visitation scenarios that involved Sydney coming to Roswell, insisting that he come to LA and stay in a hotel to see her. His lawyer assured him that would never fly in court, but since they had to go to court to get this settled and courts moved at a snail's pace, it was all up in the air. Just like his house.

"All right, fine, fine, just...get it done," Brody said. "And please, look over everything and let me know if there's something else that hasn't arrived? I don't want to find out a month from now that I have to wait another month."

I need some air, Brody thought as he hung up the phone. The movers had arrived, trundling in and out of the museum for the past hour, and he was tired, so tired, because he just couldn't keep his hands off Milton's treasure pile. Good old Milt had research dating back decades, and it would take decades to go through it all. But he didn't want to wait decades for answers to what had happened to him, so he'd been burning the midnight oil lately, something which would have to stop if what a would-be visitor earlier today had told him was true. His memory of that awkward conversation sent him to the side door for his air, not to mention that movers were clogging up the front door and he didn't feel like getting flattened by part of a display panel. But when he opened the museum's side door onto the little-used side street, he found he wasn't alone there either.

"Who the hell are you?" Brody barked.

The blonde crouched beside the door stood up quickly. "Wait—I know you," Brody said. "You're that waitress from the Crashdown. Katy? Kathy? Kylie?"

"Courtney," the girl corrected, "and I was just…"

"Oh, right!" Brody said. "You're here for the money. I told that grump of a co-worker of yours, whatever her name is—"

"Agnes?" Courtney suggested.

"That's it. You would have thought I'd hotfooted it with the crown jewels instead of $4.95 for a sandwich and chips," Brody chuckled. "I had a twenty, but she didn't have change, so I told her I'd drop it off, but…"

"You got sidetracked," Courtney finished. "Kinda figured when I saw the huge trucks parked out front. And it looks like you're kind of grumpy yourself, so it's just as well it's me playing debt collector instead of Agnes. She might have put you in the stocks."

Brody flushed. "Guess I did bite your head off," he admitted. "Sorry about that. Rough day; rough night, from what I'm told. Come on in. I'll get you your money."

They threaded back through the museum, sidestepping pallets, dollies and movers. "Wow," Courtney remarked. "It'll be all brand new and shiny. With lots of toilet paper," she added, eyeing a huge pallet of rolls.

"Tell me about it," Brody said. "I keep getting deliveries Milton placed; if I see one more case of toilet paper, I swear I'll scream. There's enough for the entire population of Krypton."

"Half, anyway," Courtney said. "Krypton's a lot bigger than Earth. It could be worse, you know," she continued, dodging a pair of movers lugging a partition. "Milton could have ordered hundreds of cases of sanitary napkins."

They had reached the office, and Brody paused beside his desk. "Sanitary napkins? Shit, I hadn't even thought about that. I thought about diapers, but not that. God, I never wanted to run a museum."

Courtney leaned against the doorjamb, watching the movers trundle by. "Not for nothing, but...then why'd you buy the place?"

"For this," Brody answered, throwing his arms wide as he flopped into his desk chair. "For Milton's research. But Roswell does love its museum, and the place will pay for itself if I let it. If it doesn't kill me first, that is. I'm sorry," he amended when she raised an eyebrow. "I'm just really tired and really frustrated. My ex-wife is giving me grief about visitation with our daughter, and I just found out I'll have to wait another month for my house because paperwork I mailed in weeks ago never made it. And then there was the woman this morning, one of the daily horde who knock on my door, who told me she'd seen me outside the front door at some ridiculous hour like 3 a.m. I used to sleepwalk, but I thought I'd stopped."

"So how'd she know it was you?" Courtney shrugged. "You're new here. Could have been anyone. She probably just assumed it was you. And what was she doing out at 3 o'clock in the morning? At that hour she could have been a little...well...you know...in her cups?"

Brody stared at her. "You know, you're right. I just took her word for it, but...you're right!"

"And paperwork always gets screwed up somewhere," Courtney went on. "And the courts will make your wife let you see your kid, and toilet paper is gender neutral. Feel better now?"

"Uh...yeah! Yeah, I do," Brody admitted. "Here," he said, reaching into his wallet. "This should cover my sandwich."

"And a few dozen more," Courtney noted. "This is a fifty."

"Keep the change. Consider it a tip," Brody shrugged, "for making me feel better. Just promise me you won't tell anyone about the new exhibits. I may not have wanted to run a museum, but I am going to give it a go."

"Mum's the word," Courtney said. "Just out of curiosity, are you planning on keeping the old employee?"

Brody blinked. "Employee?"

"Max Evans," Courtney said. "High school student. He works here, during the school year, anyway, and today's the first day of school, so…"

"Milton had an employee," Brody sighed. "Of course he did. And of course he never mentioned it."

"Hey, it's cool," Courtney said. "He's a cool guy. He can help you get settled, do all your updating, tell you who the problem people are. Always good to have a local around."

"I suppose," Brody said doubtfully. "Hadn't really planned on having someone else here. I work better alone."

"Maybe he can help you go through all this stuff," Courtney said, gesturing toward the office.

"A teenager?" Brody said in disgust. "I don't think so."

"Word of advice?" Courtney said. "Don't judge people by what's on the outside. I should know." She waved the fifty dollar bill. "Thanks for the tip. Stay happy!"

"Yeah, you...too," Brody said, shaking his head as she walked away. Odd duck, that one. Seemed to see right through him. It was ten minutes later before he realized he'd admitted to her that he'd bought the museum just to get his hands on Milton's archives...and she hadn't even blinked.





**********************************************************





Harding Residence






Courtney dropped the floor board back into place and sat down, utterly exhausted. She'd spent the entire day searching Jaddo's house without finding a blessed thing but a bunch of dust bunnies and ants. If Brivari's precious box—make that her precious box—was here, it could be anywhere, and the only thing she was certain of was that it wasn't any of the places she'd already looked. While the list of places she hadn't looked was still daunting, she was beginning to suspect that she'd have to tear this place down brick by brick, and even then she might not find it. If Jaddo had had the balls to steal the Granolith key from the King's Warder, he certainly knew enough to hide it very, very well, and when hiding it, he'd be hiding it not from mere prying human eyes, but from Brivari himself. That would make it not just well hidden, but extremely well hidden. This could take weeks. Hell, this could take longer than she had to live.

She'd begun her task with no small amount of enthusiasm, planning to use the key as leverage to make Brivari listen to Jaddo's treaty. Granted, she'd wasted the first half hour or so just gaping, having avoided Jaddo like the plague and never having been inside his house, hence never having seen the sculptures, paintings, and expensive furniture. It looked like Rath's Warder had been constructing a mini-palace for his charge, or at least something more upscale than she'd expected, and she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that his taste in decorating was quite good, something else she hadn't expected. The place was neat as a pin and she'd worked hard to keep it that way until she had to take a break when Ava had returned after school, going to the UFO museum to leave a note for Larak. By the time she'd extricated herself from his twitchy host, Ava had gone out again and she'd resumed the search anew, only to come up empty once more. Shit, she thought disconsolately, hugging one of those useless pillows humans loved to toss on couches. What to do now? School hours were best for searching, but finagling her schedule to allow daytime searching would be difficult; now that Maria was back in school, the Crashdown needed daytime help more than ever. Maybe she should beg illness for the next few days, or at least until Brivari got back. Knowing his luck, he'd walk in, spy the hiding place, and walk off with her prize before she ever got the chance to hold it over his head. Her best chance was now was to devote every available moment to searching before Brivari returned…

Voices floated within hearing. Twisting on the couch, she saw that her time was up—Ava was back, and with a companion in tow—Zan. Fascinated at the site of the king and queen alone together, Courtney crept to the window and opened it just a crack, just enough to hear a bit better.

"...taught me a few memory retrieval techniques. I can show them to you some time."

"Sure," Zan answered, albeit less than enthusiastically.

" 'Sure, Tess'," Ava said rhetorically...and ironically. " 'As long as you keep your hands off me'. It's okay," she went on when Zan looked stricken. "I know how you feel about me, how everyone feels about me."

Hell, even I know that, Courtney thought, feeling a pang of sympathy for the queen. It must suck to be the one who remembered among others who didn't. Fate had not been kind to make a wife remember what her husband did not.

They were climbing the porch steps now, making it even easier to hear. "It's not that I dislike you," Zan protested.

Ava shook her head. "You don't have to spare my feelings. Nasedo taught me not to get wrapped up in...this," she finished, gesturing to her body as though it were a husk instead of a real body. "It's not really who I am. I'm not human. Neither are you."

The notion that he wasn't human obviously didn't sit well with Zan, who visibly bristled. "It's the only life I've ever know," he protested.

"That's not true," Ava answered. "You lived another life, Max. A life completely different from this one. A life...when you loved me."

Courtney's breath caught in her throat. Ava had reached up to touch Zan's face; even though he looked uncomfortable, he wasn't resisting, and for one long, lovely moment, she fantasized again about being able to go home to a healed world, about presenting the treaty to the people who really mattered, the ones with the real decision-making powers. Why bother with a pissed off Warder when it wasn't really his call? If Zan remembered, or just fell in love with his wife all over again, it wouldn't matter what his Warder thought.

"I don't remember that," Zan said.

"I do," Ava said.

The bubble burst, and Courtney sat back with a defeated sigh, only to stiffen when her arm brushed something.

Crash!

"What was that?" Zan said sharply.

"Someone's inside," Ava said in alarm.

Not for long, Courtney thought, high-tailing it out of there and furious with herself for daydreaming. Two pairs of footsteps pounded toward her as she vaulted a hedge, and blasted through the fence gate. She might have a security system to deal with when she came back, but human mechanics were pretty easy to circumvent. Nothing would be missing, and at least she'd had the sense to clean up as she searched, so apart from the broken lamp and swinging door, there wouldn't be any telltale evidence of who had been there or why.

Thank goodness she hadn't left anything behind.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 25 on Sunday, March 1.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



September 11, 2000, 10 p.m.

Harding Residence





Jim Valenti lowered his gun and uttered a deep sigh, an audible avalanche of relief. He'd spent the last ten minutes scouring Tess Harding's house for intruders and terrified he'd find one because, really, what did one do with an alien assassin? The gun he'd held in front of him like a shield looked faintly silly, an inadequate defense against someone who could kill without one; Nasedo's first "death" via gunshot had not proved fatal, while his second had left him well and truly dead without a single shot being fired. Dee Evans had claimed the bullet hole in her dining room wall had come from her father chasing an alien, but she hadn't said how that had turned out, and he'd neglected to ask. He had no idea if guns did any good against aliens, but since it was all he had, it's what he'd used as he'd crept from room to room, turning on lights along the way. Now, with the house empty and glowing like a beacon, he caught his breath and composed himself, grateful his audience remained outside in the car. They'd already had their sheriff poking a gun in their faces; no need to poke any more holes in the illusion that he knew what he was doing.

"All clear," he called a couple of minutes later.

"What'd you find?" Max asked as they joined him on the front porch.

"No one in there," Valenti replied. "There's a broken lamp, and the back door was open like you said, but that was it. Maybe Tess can tell if...anything's missing," he finished as she rushed past them and pounded up the stairs like someone was chasing her.

"Guess the important stuff is upstairs," Max remarked.

"Guess so," Valenti agreed. "Say, Max...now that Tess is out of earshot, I wanted to talk to you about something. I'm really not comfortable with her being here alone, and not just because of this; I wasn't comfortable with it before. I stopped over a couple of days ago just to see how she was, but she got pretty defensive."

"Nasedo taught her to distrust humans," Max said.

"Yeah, well, I wish I could disagree with him, but I'm afraid I can't," Valenti said ruefully. "Much as it pains me, something tells me there are more of us like Pierce than like me. But burglar or no burglar, I don't think she should be living here by herself."

"You're right," Max said.

"Good," Valenti said. "Do you want to talk to your folks, or should I?'

Max blinked. "My...you want her to live with...me?"

"Well, sure," Valenti said. "You and Isabel are...like her, and she and Isabel are friends, so—"

"No," Max said, shaking his head slowly, then faster. "No, no, that...that wouldn't be a good idea."

"Why not? I mean, I know your folks don't know about you and your sister, but that means Tess would just be one more they don't know about. Wouldn't it be better to have you all together?"

"But that's just it," Max said. "Tess isn't used to having to hide who she is, not at home, anyway. She said once that home was the one place she could relax, and that she couldn't understand how we could be on guard all the time. I don't think it's a good idea to put her in that position, especially not now."

"Okay," Valenti said slowly, "but then where would she go? Could she bunk with Michael?"

The futility of that suggestion was evident on Max's face. "Then I'm out of ideas," Valenti said. "The last thing I want to do is put her in the foster care system, so I think we should appeal to your parents, or your mom, at least. I really think she'd take her in in a heartbeat—"

"She could stay with you," Max blurted.

"Me?" Valenti said. "Why me?"

"Don't you see, it's perfect," Max argued, a distinct note of desperation in his voice. "You and Kyle both know the whole story. She wouldn't have to pretend with either of you. And no one would question the legal part of it because you're the sheriff; they'll assume you've done all the paperwork or whatever."

"Fair point," Valenti allowed, having not walked it through how to make it look legal. "But...geez, I've got a boy. I don't do girls. Wouldn't she be more comfortable with Isabel?"

"Tess isn't a kid," Max pointed out. "She's way more self-sufficient than your average teenager. And my parents will ask all sorts of questions. They'll want to know what happened, and why, and...and just imagine what my Dad will say. He's a lawyer, so he'll want chapter and verse."

And that clinches it, Valenti thought heavily. Philip Evans would indeed smell a rat, and he'd flush out that rat, whatever it took. God help Max and Isabel the day their father got wind of the fact that there was something unusual about his children. "All right," he conceded. "I'll make the offer. But if she refuses...and I think she will...I'll need your help convincing her."

"Absolutely," Max assured him, looking very much like Valenti had felt only minutes earlier when he realized he wasn't facing an alien assassin, at least not today. "Whatever it takes."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Nothing's gone," Tess reported. "Nothing even looks touched."

"Upstairs, anyway," Valenti said. "Have a look around the ground floor and see if you see anything out of place."

Tess flushed. "Yeah, I...I was checking the stash of cash I keep up there, but it's all there. I'll look down here."

Five minutes later, they assembled in the living room beside the broken lamp. "Aside from the back door and the back gate being open, this is all I found," Valenti said. "The way everything else is untouched, I'm guessing this was knocked over accidentally. See these marks on the carpet? Whoever was here was kneeling by this window, and the window's open a little."

"But I didn't leave it open," Tess said. "Why would someone open it?"

"Looks like they were watching something on the front porch," Valenti said. "Was anything happening on the front porch?"

Two pairs of eyes dropped, then shifted. "We were...talking," Max said awkwardly when Valenti raised an eyebrow.

"About?" Valenti prompted. "Look, I know it's none of my business," he went on when no one answered, "but if you were saying anything compromising, anything someone shouldn't hear—"

"We were talking about how Max doesn't remember our former lives, but I do," Tess said.

"I see," Valenti said slowly as Max reddened. "Well, that might be compromising if the intruder was alien."

"And I told Max I wasn't human," Tess added. "And that he wasn't either."

"And that would be compromising for a human intruder," Valenti noted. "Guess we've got the bases covered."

"Do you think they were human, sheriff?" Tess asked.

"No," Valenti admitted, "no, I don't. Independent of what you Max found on the back hedge, you've got a lot of artwork here, thousands of dollars worth, and none of it is a millimeter out of place. Whoever was here was either surprised very early on, or they weren't here for a conventional robbery. Is there anything here that an alien would want, Miss Harding? Anything only an alien would know to look for?"

Tess shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"But maybe someone knows of something," Max said. "Maybe Nasedo had something Tess doesn't know about, or someone thinks he did."

"Which is exactly why I think you shouldn't stay here," Valenti said to Tess. "We're the only ones who know Ed Harding is dead, but someone knows Nasedo is dead, and that someone may come back. I don't want you here when they do."

"I agree," Tess said.

Valenti blinked. "You do?"

"Absolutely," Tess said. "I don't want to stay here, not after this. I can sleep anywhere as long as it's not here."

"The sheriff said you can stay with him for a while," Max said. "You should be safe there."

The silence which followed this announcement was so profound, it was palpable. Previously all business and seemingly unfazed by what had happened, Tess stared at him in shock. "Oh, I...I couldn't do that," she stammered. "That wouldn't be...that just wouldn't be…"

"I think it's the best option," Valenti said. "If you stay with Max, his parents will ask all kinds of awkward questions we can't answer. We'll have to construct a lie, and everyone will have to be careful to live that lie around the clock. Kyle and I already know the score. No lying needed."

More silence. "It's only temporary," Valenti added. "Just until things sort themselves out or we can figure something else out. At least you won't be alone."

There was something about the pleading look Tess threw Max and the way he quickly averted his eyes that spoke volumes. "Okay," she said finally. "But just for a while."

"Just for a while," Valenti agreed. "We'll help you pack."

"No! I mean, I can do it," Tess amended. "Unless you really want to help me sort through my make-up and undies."

"No, no, you run along," Valenti said quickly. "We'll turn off the lights and make sure the doors are locked."

Tess retreated to the second floor as Valenti threw Max a distinctly uncomfortable look. "Make-up," he muttered. "Undies. Did I mention I don't do girls?"






**********************************************************





Evans Residence






"Max, is that you?" Diane called when she heard the kitchen door open. "Where have you been?"

"It's...only 11 o'clock," Max noted, closing the door behind him.

Seated at the kitchen table nursing cups of coffee, Philip gave him a give up now look while Diane frowned. "But it's a school night," she scolded. "Izzy's been in her room all night doing homework, which means you must have homework too."

"I did most of it at school," Max said, tactfully omitting the part where Isabel had too.

"I know it's only the first day back, but you can't stay out till all hours any more," Diane fretted. "This is your junior year, and you can't let work pile up."

"Then tonight was the perfect night to stay out," Max said. "How much work could have 'piled up' on the very first night?"

"He has a point, honey," Philip allowed.

"And there's my juvenile delinquent," Diane sighed. "Gracious, Philip, don't egg him on."

"Right, I was the juvenile delinquent," Philip said. "Max never has been."

"Yet," Diane muttered. "Between you and your mother, he's got the genes for it."

"I promise I won't let anything pile up," Max assured her, planting a kiss on top of her head. " 'Night, Mom. 'Night, Dad."

He's got the genes for it. Privately reflecting that he had no idea what his genes predisposed him toward other than trouble, Max left his parents gently squabbling and knocked on Isabel's door. "Iz? Can I come in?"

"I'd skip the late night snack if I were you," Isabel advised, flopped on the bed and paging through Vogue. "Mom's on the warpath."

"Yeah, I heard," Max said. "She thinks you've been holed up in here hitting the books."

Isabel looked up in alarm. "You didn't tell her otherwise, did you?"

"Of course not," Max said.

Isabel's eyes dropped. "I know it's silly, but...I just feel safer in here. I felt so exposed all day at school, like something was lurking around every corner. It was nice to just...nest."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Max said, keeping to himself the fact that he'd felt that way earlier too. Hopefully that guy who was welding hadn't seen anything compromising through his mask.

"Mom's not the only one on the warpath," Isabel continued. "Maria called. And called, and called. Apparently she and Liz saw you talking with Tess tonight."

A prickle of annoyance flared in Max. "So? She did just lose the only person she's ever relied on, and she is one of us. Is it against the law to talk to her?"

"Of course not," Isabel said, "but don't expect Maria to get that. How is Tess?"

"Not great," Max answered. "And worse after someone broke into her house."

Max felt a stab of pain when he saw the fear flare in his sister's eyes. "Broke into her house? What happened?"

"I'd walked her home," Max said, "and we heard a noise...glass breaking...and when we went inside, the back door was open, and the back gate was swinging like someone had just run out."

Isabel sat back on the bed, rubbing her arms as though she were cold, the magazine forgotten. "Okay, that could have been...that could have been anyone. Nasedo had all that expensive stuff in there; it was probably just a run-of-the-mill burglar."

"We said the same thing," Max allowed. "Until we found a piece of skin hanging on the back hedge. It disintegrated as soon as I picked it up. Just like Michael said."

Isabel froze, the expression on her face one of someone who'd been physically struck. "So... it's true, then," she said, ashen faced. "There really are…'Skins'. And they're here. Right now."

"Nasedo did say, 'They are among you now'," Max noted.

"Yeah," Isabel said faintly. "What a crappy time to be right."

Max waited while Isabel stared into this latest abyss, knowing her shaky illusion of safety had just been shattered. "So...we went to Valenti's house," he went on after a long silence. "He's so rattled, he met us at the door with a gun."

"I can relate," Isabel said miserably.

"He checked out the house, but nothing was taken, or even moved except a lamp which had fallen over," Max continued. "That was the glass we heard breaking."

"So what did they want?" Isabel demanded. "Why break in and take nothing, move nothing?"

Max shook his head. "I don't know. But Valenti didn't want Tess staying by herself. He wanted her to come live...here."

Isabel's eyes widened in alarm. "Here? You mean with us? But...she's not with you," she went on when Max nodded. "Does that mean you talked him out of it?"

"I told him Tess wouldn't like it here because she'd have to hide who she is," Max answered. "She's never had to do that before in her own home. I know, I know," he went on, dropping his eyes. "It's a lame excuse, and I'm being selfish. I just...I didn't want her here."

"Well, if you're being selfish, than so am I," Isabel admitted. "I don't want her here either, but not because my girlfriend wouldn't like it. I don't want her here because she'd make us a target." She winced, closing her eyes briefly. "How's that for selfish?"

"We're all targets," Max said soberly. "That's why I'm telling you this now even though I knew it would upset you; you're not safe in this room, just like Tess isn't safe in her house."

"And we're not safe at school," Isabel added.

"We're safer at school than anywhere else because it's public," Max said. "Whoever did this doesn't want to be found. But 'safer' doesn't mean much. We're all targets, all the time, anywhere we are, and we can't forget that."

"Great pep talk, Max," Isabel muttered.

"But I don't think Tess was the target," Max went on. "Whoever it was made a point of being there when she wasn't. More likely they were looking for something Nasedo had."

"And they'll go back to look again," Isabel said worriedly. "Maybe we should have Tess move in with us. You know Mom would say yes—"

"And I know Dad would want lots of details," Max broke in. "Valenti and I already went through this. She's bunking with him."

Isabel blinked. "Tess moved in with Valenti?"

"It's perfect," Max said. "He and Kyle both know the truth, so she doesn't have to hide, and there won't be any messy legal questions to answer or lies to make up...or not as many, anyway."

"Wow," Isabel said. "I never saw the sheriff taking somebody in like that."

"He wasn't thrilled about it," Max admitted. "He said he 'doesn't do girls'."

Isabel smiled faintly. "I think he's about to get quite an education. Him and Kyle both."





*********************************************************





Valenti Residence






"Home, sweet home," Valenti said as he pulled into the driveway, trying to sound cheerful. "Listen, Kyle's in bed, so let's try not to wake him. I'll fill him in tomorrow."

Clutching her backpack on her lap in the passenger seat of his car, Tess nodded. "Yeah, it's always easier to face me in the full light of day."

She climbed out of the car, and Valenti followed uneasily. He couldn't read this one, couldn't tell when she was joking or what she was thinking. Kyle's emotions were like those of most adolescent males—blessedly simple and worn on his sleeve. Girls were always more guarded, harder to read, and it only got worse when they turned into women; just look at his ex-wife. If he had that much trouble with human women, what the hell was he going to do with an alien woman? Perhaps honesty was the best policy. His ex had always claimed that was his worst problem, so perhaps he could test the theory.

"Look, I know you don't want to be here," Valenti said as he pulled her suitcase out of the trunk. "And I don't blame you. But it's only temporary. Just until we can think of something else."

"Like what?" Tess said.

"Like...something we haven't thought of yet," Valenti answered.

Jesus, Valenti thought, slamming the trunk lid. He couldn't see her face, but that just made things worse; that faceless silhouette could easily be Michelle, who had always left him feeling tongue-tied and stupid, like he was now. "I'll get the door for you," he said as they approached the front door...only to hear a click, followed by the door swinging open and a light snapping on unbidden.

"What...just happened?" Valenti said.

"I don't need keys," Tess answered. "Or light switches."

Valenti closed the front door. "Yeah, I'm afraid you do."

"No, I don't," Tess said.

And suddenly the specter of the enigmatic woman was gone, replaced by something he was all too familiar with—a sour adolescent flopped on the couch, this one clutching her backpack like a life preserver. This was well trod ground.

"You do here," Valenti said firmly. "We use keys and light switches, and that means you do too."

"I never needed to in my house," Tess announced.

"This isn't your house," Valenti said. "This is my house."

"Really?" Tess muttered. "I hadn't noticed."

"But now you have," Valenti said pointedly. "So we won't need to have this conversation again, will we?"

They squared off, the scowling teenager and the determined adult, as Valenti reflected that he liked this much better than the slammed doors and brooding silences which had characterized life with his ex. He'd take a good old fashioned fight over the silent treatment any day. "I'm sorry about what happened to Nasedo," Valenti said, "but you agreed you shouldn't stay at your house—"

"I never agreed to come here," Tess declared.

"You most certainly did," Valenti retorted. "You said, 'I don't want to stay here, not after this—' " He stopped, taking a seat on the other end of the couch as she stared at the floor. "Oh. I see. You thought you were going with Max."

"It was the logical place for me to go," Tess argued. "We should stick together."

"Max had his reasons," Valenti noted, drawing a snort from her. "In human terms, you're underage, and he felt his father would ask too many inconvenient questions."

"That's not why Max didn't want me there," Tess said sullenly.

"Max also felt that having to hide around the clock would be difficult for you because you'd never had to do that before," Valenti continued. "Judging by what you just did, I'd say he hit that nail right on the head, wouldn't you?"

She stared at him, startled, then sank further into the couch in a smoldering sulk, furious for having proven Max right. "Whatever Max's reasons, he's right about his father," Valenti went on. "Philip Evans is a lawyer, and he's got a nose just like mine. He'd sniff you out, no doubt about it."

Tess looked far away for a moment. "Is Philip Grandma Dee's son?"

"Yeah," Valenti said warily. "Why?"

There was a brief pause before Tess shrugged. "Nothing. Just wondered."

Valenti privately reflected that it was highly unlikely this one ever "just wondered" about anything. "Okay...well...I'll get some blankets and sheets, and we can make up this couch for you—"

" 'Couch'?" Tess interrupted. "I don't even get a bed?"

"What happened to, 'I can sleep anywhere as long as it's not here'?" Valenti asked. "The Evans family doesn't have any extra bedrooms either, so you'd be—"

"In Isabel's room," Tess said broke in furiously. "I'd be bunking with her, probably on the floor in a sleeping bag, but I wouldn't care. I'd be with my own kind."

For a moment—just a moment—the angry veneer fell away, and Valenti got a glimpse of a very different girl, one who was alone...and frightened. The mask returned seconds later, but what he'd seen had been telling. Nasedo taught her not to trust humans, Max had said. What was it like to be an alien in this world, all by yourself and living in a stranger's house, with the only adult you'd ever known now dead, and the only family you had unable—or unwilling—to take you in? As bitchy adolescents went, at least this one had her reasons.

"Okay," Valenti nodded. "Okay. I was just trying to help, but if this isn't helping, I won't make you stay here...not that I could anyway. Let's load up your suitcases, and I'll take you back."

Tess's eyes widened. "What? You're going to take me back to a house that was just broken into by an alien?"

"Well, you certainly don't want to stay here," Valenti noted. "I believe you've made that excruciatingly clear, and then some."

"I shouldn't be here," Tess argued. "I should be at Max and Isabel's. I've met their mother—I know she'd take me in. Call her and tell her…I don't know, tell her something. Anything."

"You're right, she would take you," Valenti agreed. "And Max is right—it's a bad idea. Mr. and Mrs. Evans don't know their children aren't human, but I'm willing to bet they'd find out fast if you went to live there. You don't have the reflexes to hide all the time, Miss Harding, and your temper gets the better of you. I won't help you put both yourself and Max's and Isabel's relationship with their parents in jeopardy."

"Then maybe I'll just ask her myself," Tess said stubbornly.

"You could do that," Valenti allowed, "but I'm guessing it would come at the cost of your friendship with Max and Isabel. Definitely Max. Sure you want to go there?"

His answer was a sullen silence, the same kind he got from Kyle and a useful indicator that he was on the right track; nothing pissed off kids more than an adult being right. "Now, the way I see it, you have two choices," Valenti went on. "You can stay here tonight, and we'll see what's what tomorrow, or I can drive you back to your house. Pick one."

More silence, although a bit less sullen this time. "If I go back, will you give me a gun?" she asked.

"No, Miss Harding, I will not give you a gun," Valenti said firmly. "And if you think you need one, why would you go back there?"

"If you think I shouldn't go back there, why would you take me back there?"

"Because if you don't want to stay here, you'll leave anyway," Valenti said. "I can't exactly chain you up in the backyard, although it could be argued that your behavior warrants it." He stood up. "I'll get you a blanket. Have your answer by the time I get back because after I go to bed, taxi service is suspended until morning."

"I could still walk," she muttered.

"Keep this up, and I'll make you," Valenti promised.

He left her sulking on the couch and retreated to the closet to fetch a blanket and a pillow, which took longer than he thought; the days of an organized linen closet had ended when Michelle had left. Back in the living room, he found her taking her shoes off and much more subdued than when he'd left.

"Does that mean you're staying?"

"Just for tonight," Tess answered. "I'm too upset to be making big decisions right now."

"No argument there," Valenti agreed. "Bathroom's down the hall; I'll use it first, and then it's all yours. And I got you—"

"I don't need those," Tess interrupted. "I mean...no thank you," she amended quickly when she saw the look on his face. "We run warmer than humans. I'll be fine without a blanket."

"I'll just leave them here in case you change your mind," Valenti said. "Good night, Miss Harding."

"Good night, sheriff," she answered, her eyes on the floor.

Valenti retreated to his bedroom and let out a long, slow breath. Tess had had a rough time these past few days what with Nasedo dying and now this, but her attitude was still grating; part of him wanted to hug her, while the other part of him wanted to slap her. He was still trying to decide which part of him would win as he pulled out his phone.

"Hope I didn't wake you," Valenti said when Dee answered. "You said you stay up late."

"That I do," Dee agreed. "What's wrong?"

"Tess Harding is staying with me, for the moment at least," Valenti said. "Someone broke into her house tonight, and we all thought it best that she not stay there by herself."

"Broke in?" Dee said sharply. "Why?"

"Good question," Valenti allowed. "Nothing was stolen, or even touched except a lamp which had fallen over. Max had walked Tess home, and it appears they interrupted whoever was there...and Max said they left a strip of skin along the back hedge when they ran. And since Nasedo told him something about enemies being 'skins', we're pretty sure whoever was there was alien."

"Oh, no," Dee sighed.

"She's not thrilled about it," Valenti went on. "We've already gone three rounds at least. She wanted to go home with Max."

"I'm sure she did, but that's not a good idea," Dee said. "I think she'd have a hard time playing human around the clock; subtlety isn't her strong point, and Philip would be on her right quick."

"That's what I told her," Valenti agreed, "and what Max told her, but we failed to impress. She was threatening to go back to her empty house, and for all I know, she just might. But she's here for the moment, so I just wanted you to know so you could tell the other…"

"Warder," Dee finished.

"Yeah," Valenti said. "That. I hate that word. Makes me think of a prison. Can't I call him a 'guardian'?"

"I'm of the opinion you've earned the right to call him anything you want," Dee said. "How'd you get her to stay?"

"Simple—I offered to drive her home."

Laughter floated over the phone. "Ah, yes. You have a teenager, so you're familiar with the concept of reverse psychology."

"Very," Valenti admitted. "Act like you don't care if they do, and they won't; like you don't care if they don't, and they will. Works like a charm, most of the time, anyway. Say, do you know of anything 'Nasedo' had that another alien would want to steal?"

"No," Dee allowed, "but I'll ask the...guardian. Thank you for helping them out, Jim. I appreciate you taking her in, but do be careful. She can be a handful."

"Really?" Valenti said dryly. "I hadn't noticed."





*********************************************************





"Well," Dee said, closing her cellphone, "that was interesting."

"Hmm?" Courtney murmured, her eyes on the building across the street.

"Tess has moved into Valenti's house," Dee said.

"The sheriff? Why?"

"Someone broke into her house tonight," Dee answered. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"No. Should there be?"

"They found a piece of skin on the back hedge," Dee answered, "so I'm just doing the math. To the best of my knowledge, there are only two Argilians in town, so if you aren't involved in this, that means Vanessa's figured out where Jaddo was living and has undoubtedly made the very short leap to who Tess might be. And if so, Brivari needs to know about this immediately."

Shit, Courtney groaned. Her husk was so fragile now; a piece must have come off when she was vaulting the hedge, and she hadn't even felt it. Brivari would not be pleased that she'd tipped her hand, so it was better for him to find that out as late as possible. "Fine, it was me," she sighed. "Brivari sent me there. He wanted me to find something Jaddo took from him when he left town with Ava, something that would very likely be hidden behind a handprint lock."

"And you didn't see fit to tell me this?"

"I told you he called," Courtney objected. "I just...didn't tell you everything."

"Obviously," Dee said. "What's he looking for?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does if Tess feels she can no longer live there," Dee argued. "Now she wants to move in with Max."

"So the queen wants to move in with the king," Courtney shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Courtney…" Dee said warningly.

"Jaddo took the key to the Granolith."

Dee blinked at her. "The 'key'? I didn't know it had a key. Does it also have a sunroof?"

"And electric windows," Courtney deadpanned. "Without the key, the hybrids couldn't leave the planet. Jaddo wanted to make sure he and Ava wouldn't be stranded here by the rest of them."

Dee pondered that for a moment before shaking her head. "My grandmother warned me never to speak ill of the dead, but still...that bastard."

"Word," Courtney said darkly. "And now it's lost. Jaddo never told Brivari where it was."

"So if it's 'lost', why can't Brivari look for it when he gets back? It's not like they're leaving any time soon."

"Because he's paranoid about it," Courtney said. "And besides, I wasn't searching for his sake. It occurred to me that if I found it, I could use it to get him to consider the treaty."

"You were going to blackmail the King's Warder?" Dee said incredulously. "Are you out of your mind?"

"He won't listen!" Courtney exclaimed. "You didn't hear him on the phone today."

"Or even everything he said on the phone today," Dee said tartly. "But if you're talking now, I'm all ears."

"I was testing the waters," Courtney said. "He won't even look at the treaty; I know he won't, but even your father agrees he should. Having the key will make him—"

"Furious," Dee interjected.

"Listen," Courtney corrected. "All he needs to do to get it back is listen."

"At which point he'll say 'no', and you won't give it to him, and...no," Dee said firmly. "This is a very bad idea. Brivari won't take Jaddo's treaty seriously no matter what you do, or I do, or anyone does. Vanessa may not have killed him, but he still died because of his association with her, and Brivari won't forgive that. Your best bet is to pursue the treaty later, after emotions have cooled."

"Later? He'll kill her!" Courtney protested. "Jaddo's dead, so the only chance we have of making this work is Vanessa. If she's dead too, it's...God, I can't believe I'm saying this," she muttered. "Must be a cold day somewhere if I'm trying to keep Vanessa alive."

"Then we appear to be between a rock and a hard place," Dee said. "Brivari's bound to kill the one person who can sell it to the other side whether we tell him about it or not."

"Which is why I need leverage," Courtney argued. "The Granolith key is leverage."

"He might kill you if you withhold it," Dee noted.

"He might," Courtney agreed soberly. "But I know someone else he'll listen to." She checked her watch and glanced at the UFO Center, dark and silent at this hour. "It's after midnight. Let's go."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 26 on Sunday, March 15.

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX



September 12, 2000, 12:15 a.m.

Roswell UFO Center






Courtney climbed out of the car with her misgivings, already legion, growing by the minute. What she was about to do was risky, and not just because it was sneaky, underhanded, and broke every rule of interplanetary etiquette. She was about to go behind the King's back, or at least his Warder's back, and propose a peace treaty to the leader of another world. If it went badly, she could be viewed as a traitor to the crown; if it went well, she could still wind up that way, although the odds that she'd be prosecuted for it decreased. Dee's presence was something of a mixed blessing. On one level, she was grateful for the company and support. But Dee could be something of a wild card, tart-tongued and impatient with protocol and political nuance, two things which might get her past the barricades tonight. Her confidence wasn't exactly blazing, so finding out that she'd left behind a calling card at Jaddo's house was especially unwelcome, not to mention rattling; she'd screwed up Brivari's errand without even realizing it. On the bright side, at least the house would be empty in the short term. She could use a few more bright sides right about now.

"Not the front door," Courtney called to Dee. "We use the side door. Less noticeable." Usually, she added privately, noting that she'd certainly been noticed today by Larak's grumpy host. At least she'd managed to put in a good word for the King, who might have met with a very different reception as it seemed Brody didn't realize he'd inherited an employee.

"Now, remember, let me lead," Courtney said when they reached the side door.

"Aye, captain," Dee said blandly.

"I'm serious," Courtney insisted. "Let me do the talking."

"My lips are sealed," Dee promised.

"Since when?" Courtney muttered.

"As sealed as they ever are," Dee corrected.

"Dee, please!" Courtney groaned. "This guy is important! I told you, he—"

"Runs a planet," Dee finished. "So you said. Some kind of king, but not a king."

" 'Premier'," Courtney corrected. "That would be the closest translation."

"Titles are just words," Dee said. "My opinion will rest on the man, not the title. We have presidents, not kings, but it's still just a title. King, Premier, President, Grand Pooh Bah...whatever the title, it still means nothing without a person of substance inhabiting it."

"Then keep in mind I know this person," Courtney said. "You don't, and you won't, not in a few minutes."

"So you hobnobbed with royalty back home?" Dee said. "That's not what I heard."

"Okay, I know him better than you do," Courtney amended. "Just promise me you'll keep your opinion to yourself until after we've left. We can debrief later."

"I'll try," Dee said.

"Which could mean throwing things," Courtney said crossly. "I mean it this time—I need you to mind your manners."

"I'll be on my best behavior," Dee promised.

Courtney stared at her warily for a moment. "Good," she said finally, turning to face the door, working up her courage to get this show on the road.

"As long as he's on his best behavior," Dee added.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Courtney exclaimed. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought you! If you're just going to—"

KnockKnock

Courtney froze as Dee's hand lowered from the door. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you were stalling," Dee answered. "You're obsessing about this, Courtney. You're all atwitter that I won't curtsey or have my pinky finger out like I'm supposed to. Since when are you so worked up about 'manners'? Since when do you bow and scrape?"

Courtney looked wildly back and forth from Dee to the door. Unbeknownst to Dee, she'd still been deciding if she wanted to do this at all, which is why she'd been amendable to arguing in an alley. But now someone had knocked, and that knock could not be undone. If Larak was here, it was because she'd summoned him; to leave now would be worse than anything which would come of their staying.

"Try to understand," Courtney begged, "what I'm doing, what I'm trying to do, could be interpreted as treason. I'm in no position to propose a peace treaty; I'm not high enough up the food chain."

"I disagree," Dee said firmly. "You are the leader of the Resistance, which is, as I understand it, absolutely vital to the restoration of peace on your world. You're an equal participant at the bargaining table, and it's time you started seeing yourself that way."

Courtney shook her head. "You're the only one who sees me that way. I guarantee Larak won't. Not to mention that I'm about to go behind the King's back, behind his Warder's back. That's not something you do lightly, not where I come from."

"Weren't you the one just talking about blackmailing the King's Warder?"

"You know how bad you thought that was?" Courtney said. "This is worse. Way worse."

"You're not doing this 'lightly'," Dee said. "The situation demands it. You have to go behind the King's back because the King doesn't know what's what, and Jaddo was already going behind Brivari's back."

"That's different," Courtney repeated. "Jaddo could have gotten away with it because he was Rath's Warder and...well, because he was Jaddo. But I'm not in anything even close to that lofty of a position. If this goes bad, I could wind up tarring the entire Resistance. I could actually make things worse."

"So could not trying," Dee pointed out. "Does this mean that anyone who even attempts to broker peace will be considered a traitor? If that's true, then no one will ever be able to fix this, and I simply don't buy that. You have to start somewhere, and it appears that Jaddo and Vanessa, two of the most unlikely people in the universe, managed to do that. Opportunities like this are not only few, they're practically non-existent; I'm not ready to give up on this, and I don't think you are either." She paused, her expression softening as Courtney stood beside her, miserable and silent. "But I don't want to make this any harder for you than it already is. If you really wish you hadn't brought me along, I'll go back to the car and wait for you."

"No," Courtney said reflexively.

"So I'm not that bad after all?" Dee said dryly.

Courtney stared at the door in front of her, a barrier tonight in so many more ways than the obvious. "Of course you are. But the only thing worse than doing this with you...is doing it without you."

Footsteps sounded inside, and Courtney braced herself as the door opened and Brody's face appeared. "Good evening," Larak said cordially. "I'm here as re…quested," he finished, his eyes fastening on Dee. "Who's this?"

A pause followed as Larak regarded both of them suspiciously and Dee waited, tight-lipped but mercifully silent. "This is Deanna Evans," Courtney answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "You've heard of her—we call her 'Dee'. She and her family have been our allies since the very beginning. Dee, may I introduce Larak, Premier of Kerona, one of Antar's sister planets."

"Pleased to meet you," Dee said.

Larak said nothing, his eyes darting back and forth from one to another. "You failed to mention this in your note," he said reproachfully.

"It came up after I'd left the note," Courtney said.

"Then you should have left another note."

"There wasn't time."

"Meaning you knew I'd refuse."

"On second thought," Dee said, "perhaps not so glad to meet you."





**********************************************************





Dee waited impassively as Larak's eyebrows rose and Courtney sent her a weary look which seemed to say that didn't take long. Well, no, it hadn't, but the speed with which this particular Grand Pooh Bah had raised an objection had raised her own ire just as quickly. "I thought we talked about this?" Courtney whispered. "I told you he—"

"Rules a planet," Dee finished. "Yes, you mentioned that. Apparently one without manners."

"One without humans," Larak corrected. "I gather you have been of service to the crown, madam, and for that, you have my thanks. Please understand that I do not hold you responsible for this indiscretion. I hold myself responsible," he continued, looking directly at Courtney. "I know we've spoken, and I've asked your opinion on various matters. It appears I've given you the impression that you may take liberties. You know how precarious my position is. You should not have shared my situation without my consent."

"I wouldn't have if it wasn't important," Courtney protested. "Something's happened, something that justifies this…'indiscretion'."

Larak regarded them in silence for a moment. "Well...you've certainly put me in an awkward position."

Courtney's eyes suddenly flashed. " 'Awkward position'?" she repeated testily. "Seriously? Join the club! Dee and I have both been in 'awkward positions' for the past two days! I just told you something happened. Don't you even want to know what that is, or are you too busy whining about your 'awkward position'?"

That's my girl, Dee thought approvingly. She was no expert on interplanetary niceties, or any kind of niceties, for that matter, but she was willing to bet that if they wanted to succeed, Courtney would need to act like a leader, not a supplicant.

But Larak's eyes had hardened. "Perhaps you should come back after you've calmed down. I'm sure—"

"Jaddo's dead," Courtney announced.

The silence that followed was more profound than that of the empty street at midnight. "Dead?" Larak repeated, stunned. "And Brivari…?"

"Out chasing the assassin," Courtney answered. "And get this—Jaddo was working on a peace treaty with Vanessa, and—"

"Vanessa?" Larak interrupted incredulously.

"I know, I know, but it's true," Courtney insisted. "Just before he died, Jaddo told Brivari that Vanessa wasn't the one who killed him. And Vanessa came to me wanting my support for the treaty, but she thought Jaddo was still alive. I'm here tonight to present the terms and see what you think of it."

"This is very hard to believe," Larak said skeptically.

"I just told you Vanessa came to me, and yet I'm still alive," Courtney retorted. "Believe it, and make it fast, because we don't have a lot of time."

Another silence, longer this time. "No," Larak said finally, shaking his head. "No, you...you were right to inform me of Jaddo's death, but there should be no discussion of a treaty without the King's Warder."

"Then there sure as hell won't be, because Brivari will never give it the time of day," Courtney said crossly. "Think about it—Vanessa and Jaddo? They're gasoline and a lit match, yet they came up with something they could both get behind. What are the odds of that happening? This at least deserves a hearing. Brivari will reject it because it exists, and we can't afford that. This is the first serious effort to make peace since Antar fell. Are we really going to just let him flush it?"

Larak's head began to shake faster, the enormity of what she was asking sinking in even further. "I just want you to hear me out," Courtney persisted. "It'll still have to go through Brivari, but it will look different if the Resistance and Kerona are behind it. It'll be harder for him to throw it away if it has serious backing."

"This could be construed as treason," Larak warned. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Of course I know that," Courtney said impatiently. "But that only applies to me. You're not a subject of the king."

"No, I'm his best friend!" Larak exclaimed, running a hand through his host's hair as he paced in the doorway. "An armistice would affect not only him, but his family, his line...and yet he's not here, nor is his Warder. He is unrepresented at the biggest negotiation of his life!"

"No, he isn't," Dee said. "I'll represent him."

Larak blinked "You?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Dee said with an edge to her voice. "I'm his grandmother, after all."

Larak looked at Courtney. "What is she talking about?"

"We told you they're all living with human families," Courtney said. "In the human family that raised him, this is Zan's grandmother, and right now, I can't think of anyone better to represent him. Not even his own Warder."

Dee's eyebrows rose as Larak gave a snort which sounded suspiciously like disgust. "What?" Courtney said. "I thought you wanted the King represented?"

"Not by a human," Larak said. "No offense."

"Offense taken," Dee said flatly. "You do realize your 'old friend' is now half human, don't you?"

"I'll wait for Brivari," Larak said firmly. "Assuming this incredible story is true and not some Argilian fairy tale, which it may very well be."

Larak folded his arms across his chest in what must be the universal sign of stubbornness. "Fine," Courtney said angrily. "I thought you might want to be first up on this seeing as you're here, and all, and Zan's friend, but fine. I'll contact Kathana. Or Sero. Or Hanar. Or hell, I'll contact all three just in case one of them has an attack of the stupids like you just did."

"Wait," Larak ordered. "If you contact our sister worlds, this will be all over the five planets in no time. And you'll be considered a traitor on more worlds than one."

"No, really?" Courtney retorted. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I risk my life just by being here!" Larak exclaimed. "Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Okay, enough with the pissing match," Dee said impatiently. "You're both risking your lives. Gold stars for both of you."

"Sarcasm," Larak muttered. "It never needs translation."

"Whose side are you on?" Courtney demanded.

"My grandchildren's side," Dee said firmly, "which would be your king's side and your friend's side. And since we're all supposedly on the same side, I think we can do better than just walking away angry."

"Of course we can 'do better'!" Courtney exclaimed. "He can listen to me! And he just refused. Several times."

"Much as it pains me to admit it, Mr. Head-in-the-Rule-Book has a point," Dee said. "You have one Warder to worry about, while he has five planets, planets I'm guessing are full of people who will react exactly the way he did now. If he supports this and it goes bad, he'll have far more people chasing him than you will. We need a bit more balance." She paused as both of them stared at her. "What if," she continued to Larak, "we present the terms with the understanding that, if you reject them, this conversation has never taken place. No one need know of this meeting unless you decide to tell them. This is off the record unless you decide otherwise."

"She'll still carry out her threat to take this so-called 'treaty' elsewhere," Larak said. "How is this an improvement?"

"It's an improvement because you can play dumb," Dee answered. "You may rule a planet, but you only rule one planet; you can only make decisions for your world, not others. Courtney has the right to offer this to your sister worlds, but if you listen now, she would do so without mentioning that you had first crack at it. That leaves you free to argue against it, or support it once you see which way the wind is blowing. You could even decide to admit you'd turned it down if you wanted to."

"And if I don't listen, my refusal will be made public?" Larak said warily. "That sounds suspiciously like blackmail."

"I'd call it 'incentive'," Dee shrugged.

"And I'd call it fair," Courtney added. "You have nothing to lose by listening, and everything to gain because whether you hear about it now or later, you are going to hear about it. It's just a matter of where and when. I'm in."

Dee looked at Larak. "And you?"

The silence which followed was so long that Courtney found it hard to not break it. Larak's gaze swung back and forth in consternation as it lengthened; twice Courtney started to open her mouth, and twice Dee stiffened beside her by way of an unspoken cry of hush! The ball was in Larak's court. They'd just handed him the equivalent of a get-out-of-jail-free card, so if he continued to balk, he was just being stubborn.

"I can see why Brivari likes you," Larak said finally. "You have a devious streak."

"That's not an answer, but I do appreciate the compliment," Dee said.

" 'Compliment'?" Larak said dryly. "I must have said it wrong. But...much as it pains me to admit it, you also have a point." He stepped back, gesturing inside. "Come in. Both of you."





*********************************************************





7:05 a.m.,

Valenti residence






"Dad!"

It was a panicked cry, almost a bleat, really, and Tess stepped quickly out of the way as it was answered by the appearance of a disheveled Valenti the Elder dressed in little more than Valenti the Younger, though with the addition of a tee shirt which had seen better days, judging by the yellow underarms and boxers which were definitely not Calvins. The sheriff took one look at her and dived hastily back into his bedroom, reappearing seconds later wrapped in a plaid bathrobe which could safely be described as "ratty". "Geez, Kyle, what's the matter?" he demanded, conveniently ignoring the fact that Kyle had no idea what she was doing here. "You're gonna wake the whole neighborhood!"

Eyes still bulging dangerously, Kyle pointed to the kitchen, quite a feat given that his hands were firmly shielding the family jewels. "Can we talk?"

The sheriff gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry about this. Would you excuse us for a minute?"

Tess held up both hands. "Go powwow. I'll just use the bathroom while you're...powwowing."

She grabbed her backpack and retreated to the bathroom as two generations of Valenti's began arguing over her presence in voices loud enough to be heard through the door. Join the club, she thought sourly. Kyle Valenti was just the latest in a long line of people who didn't want her around. For all his faults, she'd always felt like she belonged with Nasedo, and he not only wanted her around, he was annoyingly nosy. Now she belonged nowhere. She'd bet good money that the sheriff had been secretly hoping she wouldn't be here when he woke up...and she almost hadn't been. Long had she lain there last night, debating whether or not to help herself to one of Valenti's guns, go home, and lay in wait for the intruder, an absurd scenario she'd abandoned when she remembered that she was very likely dealing with whoever had killed Nasedo, something they'd managed to do despite the fact that Nasedo had a personal arsenal more formidable than any gun. No, getting herself killed hardly served their purpose, but bunking with the sheriff, at least for tonight, did, and she'd drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion only to be awakened by a shrieking male adolescent. Now she sank down on the toilet seat, clutching her backpack on her lap and pondering her next move. She'd told Kyle that she "lived here" only because she knew it would freak him out, not because she'd actually decided she did.

"Is there anything here that an alien would want, Miss Harding? Anything only an alien would know to look for?"

The voices outside the door grew louder as Tess unzipped the backpack and dug inside. The gray alien box was cool to the touch and surprisingly lightweight given that it was heavy with purpose. This is what their intruder had been looking for; she was sure of it. This is why none of Nasedo's expensive artwork and sculptures had been touched. The real prize was in this box, which was the very first thing she'd checked when she'd run upstairs last night, breathing a sigh of relief when she'd thrust her hand into the wall and found it safely hidden in its alien hidey hole.

"If you need to run, this is the one thing you take with you. It must be kept safe at all costs."

Even before she'd resealed the box in the wall, Tess had already decided she shouldn't stay in the house. Whoever had broken in was clearly looking for this box, so the box needed to move, and she had every intention of moving with it. And where else to move but to Max and Isabel's? Michael was a possibility, but he probably wouldn't want a chick moving in with him, and besides, she and Isabel were friends. Even if it was just a sleeping bag on Isabel's bedroom floor, the thought of moving into the Evans' household filled her with so much joy that she'd almost been secretly grateful for her alien intruder. Being a part of that stable family she'd been so envious of was hugely appealing, but even more appealing was the chance to be closer to Max. She'd readied her arguments on the way down the stairs and been overjoyed when the sheriff broached the subject himself, only to hit the wall when it was clear she wasn't going with Max. Absolutely stunned, she'd retreated to to pack, a slow burn building inside her. How could he abandon her in her hour of need? She'd had nothing to do with this, couldn't possibly have staged this, but she was being treated like it was all just another Chemistry Class mindwarp. By the time they'd reached this house last night, she'd been thoroughly pissed and proceeded to take it out on the poor sheriff, the one person who hadn't abandoned her. What she wouldn't give to see the look on Nasedo's face were he to learn that the king had brushed her off while a human stood by her.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" a faint voice demanded on the other side of the door. "Anyone else hiding here? Maybe some little green men in the basement? Or little red men in the fridge?"

"You were asleep; I didn't want to wake you," the sheriff said in exasperation. "And she wasn't 'hiding', she was on the couch…"

Not to mention that I'm not green, red, or a man, Tess thought dryly. Great observational skills, that Kyle. Why were aliens always referred to as men? Did the notion of female aliens really place such a burden on the human imagination? Or was it just that most of the humans who had discovered their ship had been males in a decidedly male-dominated society which couldn't fathom why a female would be on a ship?

The voices faded, followed by a door slamming. Tess peeked outside the bathroom; the argument had moved to a room down the hall, which gave her an opportunity. She needed to hide the alien box somewhere more permanent than her backpack. Scanning the terrain, her eyes fell on Kyle's open bedroom door, probably the last place an alien intruder would think to look…

With the argument still ongoing, Tess scooted across the living room and into Kyle's room, looking around frantically; she'd already noticed that Valenti's tended to pace when they fought, so it was unlikely they'd stay where they were for long. Yuck, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the plate with dried cheese and the empty glass with an inch of something or other left in it. Typical teenage male bedroom—dirty dishes, clothes strewn everywhere, weird stains on the carpet. Kneeling down, she dug under the bed, her hands closing on a stack of what felt like magazines. Jugs? she thought with amusement, leafing through them. Hustler? So apparently Kyle did know a girl when he saw one, notwithstanding hysterical outbursts about little green men. Buddhism for Beginners? That one definitely didn't fit the mold. Maybe she hadn't given Kyle enough credit; he was more eclectic than she'd thought. And growing more eclectic by the minute given that she'd just stashed an alien box beneath a floorboard she'd conveniently loosened and replaced, layering the Buddhism and boobs magazine collection over top. By the time the argument moved back into the kitchen, she was back in the bathroom, for real this time. The world may be falling apart, but she was going to school come hell or high water. Alien powers came in very handy when one didn't have time for the usual methods of hygiene.

"Hey!" a voice called through the door, accompanied by loud knocking. "Did you fall in? We've only got one bathroom in this house. Give a guy a break!"

Tess grabbed her backpack and opened the door. "You don't have to shout," she told Kyle reprovingly. "I'm not deaf."

"My back teeth are floating," Kyle retorted. "Maybe you want me to pee through the keyhole?"

"I was just trying to give you and your father some space," Tess said. "And I'd use a cup, but that's just me. Spray the wall if you want. You're already acting like an animal."

She stalked out, Kyle's fuming and sputtering cut off by a slammed door. Dropping her backpack on the floor near the couch, she spied the sheriff in the kitchen doorway holding a cup of something or other. "I'm sorry about that," he said apologetically. "He's a little rattled."

"Join the club," Tess said.

"I'm sure we all are," Valenti allowed. "Kyle'll come around. He just needs some time to get his head around it. He didn't really mean to be so harsh."

"It's okay," Tess said. "I'm not fragile. And I don't scare easy."

Valenti nodded slowly. "Yeah. I imagine you don't." He paused. "I wasn't sure you'd still be here this morning."

"I wasn't either," Tess admitted. "But I decided that getting myself killed really didn't solve anything."

"No argument there," Valenti agreed.

"And I...I'm really sorry I was so nasty last night, sheriff. None of this is your fault, not my house being broken into or Max hanging me out to dry. I appreciate you sticking by me even when he wouldn't."

"Apology accepted," Valenti said. "And you're welcome. But I don't agree that Max 'hung you out to dry'. I know you'd rather be staying with him, but he had very good reasons why that wouldn't work, reasons I agreed with. He was the one who asked me to take you in, and I said I would."

"Even though you don't 'do girls'?"

Valenti looked stricken. "You heard that?"

Tess touched one ear. "Alien hearing. It's pretty darn good. Just FYI."

"Oh," Valenti said sheepishly. "Well...I don't have any daughters, so I'm not up on girls."

"Then you're in luck," Tess said. "I'm not just any girl, and I'm very self-sufficient. And Nasedo left me plenty of money, so I can pay my own way."

"Does this mean you're staying?"

"Yes," Tess answered. "If you'll have me."

"I thought the question was whether or not you'd have us. But of course you can stay," Valenti added gently when she dropped her eyes. "I'll see about getting a cot or a sofa bed. We can turn part of this room into a bedroom, maybe put up a curtain or something." He held up his cup. "Want some coffee? I managed to make some while Kyle was caterwauling."

Tess smiled in spite of herself. "Love some. Would you like some breakfast? I like to cook."

"You do? I hate it," Valenti said ruefully. "I'm not sure what we've got out here for someone who really cooks. I've got some pans, but we don't use them a whole lot."

"No worries," Tess said briskly. "I'll make do."

Always have, she added silently as she followed Valenti into the kitchen, glancing toward Kyle's bedroom and the hidden box. What Max didn't know was that she'd been prepared to tell him about the box last night, to hand it over to the king Nasedo had said was its rightful owner. She'd changed her mind when it was clear he wouldn't take her in, but she was prepared to rethink that if she could convince Max that she really belonged with him. And if not...well, then they would just have to wait and see.





*********************************************************





Harding residence





"Good Lord, it's past 7 a.m.," Dee groaned, flopping into a chair. "Have we really been up all night?"

"Weenie," Courtney teased. "What happened to Dee Evans, the night owl?"

"Even night owls eventually go to bed; they just go later," Dee said. "I can't remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter."

Courtney hefted a stack of books and replaced them on a shelf. "I can. Three days ago, when Jaddo died."

Dee shook her head. "Tossing and turning in a horizontal position doesn't count. That's called 'can't get to sleep', not 'didn't bother trying'."

"That's because we spent all our 'trying' here," Courtney said, pushing the books into position, eyeing them critically and readjusting. "For all the good it did us."

"We've been over every square inch of this house," Dee sighed. "Maybe it's not here. Maybe it never was; they hid Valeris's book in the library, after all. Jaddo and Tess moved around a lot, sometimes on very short notice, so why would he hide this mysterious box wherever he happened to be living at the moment?"

Courtney flopped down on a sofa opposite Dee. "I thought of that. But having to up and run makes it all the more important to keep it close, where you can grab it and go. It's here. I just have to find it."

"And how exactly do you do that if it's not hidden in a conventional manner?" Dee asked. "You said it was probably in an alien made hiding space. What, do you run your hand over every square inch of wall and floor, hoping to find it? It sounds like we could tear this place down to the studs and not find it."

"Theoretically we would, if it's hidden in the house," Courtney said. "It's not hidden in some pocket of the space time continuum; it's a physical object in a physical hiding space. But if he hid it in the yard, or the garage floor, or the front step, even tearing the house down wouldn't help." She was quiet for a moment. "I haven't thanked you yet for what you did last night with Larak."

"Of course you haven't," Dee said dryly. "I did exactly the opposite of what you asked me to do."

"You were quiet in the beginning," Courtney allowed. "Never thought you'd pull it off even that long."

Courtney ducked as Dee chucked a throw pillow at her. "You progressed from bowing and scraping to arguing with him leader to leader in record time," Dee said. "And when we finally came to terms on whether or not he'd listen, those were your terms."

"My terms?" Courtney said. "You're the one who got that door open."

"He let us in because you threatened something worse," Dee reminded her. "You did that, not me. I merely made it more palatable."

"And had him eating out of your hand before we left," Courtney noted.

"Powerful people like worthy adversaries," Dee said. "How do you think I've managed to coexist with Royal Warders all these years? I argued with them, that's how. You won his respect when you fought back. I thought I'd have to goad you into arguing, but he did it for me, not that's it's ever been hard to get you going. At any rate," she went on, dodging the pillow Courtney lobbed back at her, "you got what you wanted. He'll support your treaty, although I never doubted he would if you could get him to listen to it."

"You didn't?" Courtney said. "Why not?"

"Because he lives in a war zone," Dee said. "He'll support pretty much anything that brings that to an end, which is why I'm not really interested in his opinion. He's hardly in a position to be objective."

"Neither are you," Courtney said. "You don't want your grandchildren to leave."

"I don't want them to, but I've always known they will," Dee said. "I just want them to survive."

"No argument there," Courtney agreed. "What say we get something to eat, get some sleep, and start again later? Ava will be back to get the rest of her things at some point, but hopefully she won't move back in. Don't you dare tell Valenti this was friendly fire, or she probably will."

"Haven't told him about you; don't plan to," Dee said. "He'll try to keep her there, but she's not your real deadline."

"No, she isn't," Courtney sighed. "Let's hope that operative keeps Brivari busy just a little while longer."






**********************************************************






Clifton, Arizona




Vincent slid past the back doors, unnoticed by the workers on the loading dock. He'd managed to keep his skin in one piece and scrounge some food from restaurant dumpsters, but he still hadn't been able to contact Copper Summit; the mysterious electrical glitches plaguing the Midwest conveniently followed him wherever he went. Bloody Warders, he thought darkly, idly wondering if whoever had decided to enhance monsters had had any idea what they were creating. Aware or not, they all got to pay the price for it now. One more thing Khivar would fix, if he ever got his act together and stopped pining after that pitiful princess, that is. The basement was quiet as he limped painfully down the hallway toward the little alcove he called home, for the next few hours at least.

"You're back," a voice said pleasantly.

Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. Something resembling a short, bald man was seated on a wooden crate, casually flipping through a torn magazine. Unassuming as it looked, there was no mistaking what it was. His time had officially run out.

"Interesting choice of accommodation," the Warder observed, looking around the dank basement.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Vincent said sullenly.

"Nice reading material, though," the Warder continued. "I suppose that's a perk that comes with hiding in the basement of a post office."

"Yeah, well, I've gotta have something to do when you black out communications wherever I go," Vincent retorted.

"Communication is overrated," the Warder shrugged.

"Can we get on with this?" Vincent said sharply.

"No rush," the Warder said calmly. "I was afraid I'd missed you."

"Afraid you wouldn't get the chance to execute me?" Vincent retorted. "Afraid I'd drop dead before you got to toy with your prey?"

"Neither. I was afraid I'd missed a chance to get some answers."

"Like I'd tell you anything," Vincent muttered.

"Oh, you'll tell me," the Warder assured him.

Vincent snorted softly. "They always said that Warders loved to torture people."

" 'Love to'?" the Warder said skeptically. "I believe that falls under the heading of 'don't believe everything you hear'. But all good myths carry some truth," the Warder went on, its voice like black velvet as it rose to its feet. "I don't 'love to' torture people; I find it tiring and time-consuming. But even I have to admit it works." It paused as Vincent backed up, his eyes wide. "So...shall we 'get on with it'?"


~~~~~~~~~~~


It's vacation time again , and Easter comes right after we get back. I'll post Chapter 27 on Sunday, April 12.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN




September 12, 2000, 7:30 a.m.

Doubletree Inn and Suites, Roswell






"Your breakfast, ma'am," the waiter announced, pushing the cart laden with steaming dishes into the suite. "Scrambled eggs," he announced, lifting a lid. "Toast. Bacon. Sausage. Coffee. Orange Juice. Is there anything else you require?"

"No, thank you, it all looks wonderful," Vanessa smiled, quietly slipping him a five dollar bill.

The waiter gave her a slight bow. "Enjoy your breakfast."

I intend to, Vanessa thought, surveying the spread with satisfaction. It having occurred to her that Jaddo would likely not return to the scene of his capture, she'd done some checking and discovered that he'd never checked out; the room was still registered to him, still funded by whatever credit card he'd presented at check-in. The Doubletree was no Ritz Carlton, but it was far better than a Holiday Inn. Not wanting a good thing to go to waste, she'd moved in here, leaving the shoddy Holiday Inn and its bad memories behind, along with its dodgy room service and errant skin flakes which had settled in the crevices of the room; cleaning up an exploded husk in a hotel room, it turned out, was a bit of a challenge. Comfortably settled in Jaddo's suite, she'd cheered herself up while waiting for him to resurface by planning her campaign for their treaty. First stop had been Courtney, always an irritant but undoubtedly a survivor. If she could bring the weight of the Resistance to bear in their favor, that would make a huge difference. Next up had been certain strategic individuals back in Copper Summit, although the pickings had been slim there; anyone in a position of power such as hers was surrounded by people just waiting for the chance to tear you down and elevate themselves. But one had to start somewhere, so started she had, and she should have some idea of which way the wind was blowing by the time Jaddo reappeared. She'd decided she'd been hasty in expecting him to resurface quickly. After his ordeal, he'd probably lay low for at least a week, maybe more. In the meantime, she'd enjoy his lovely hotel room and work her end of the bargain. He'd have some catching up to do when he…

Buzzzz!

Vanessa grabbed her phone a little too eagerly, stopped, checked herself. God, but she was acting like a schoolgirl waiting for her boyfriend to call. Looking at the display, she frowned.

N.

Shit, Vanessa thought darkly. Had one of those strategic individuals blown her in? Quite possible, but she'd factored that in; some wild story about a treaty was nothing against the piles of dirt she had on all of them. Anyone who tried to throw her under the bus would find themselves under it in short order while she waved goodbye from the safety of the sidewalk.

"I've lost some operatives," Nicholas said with preamble.

"Good morning to you too," Vanessa said dryly. "You do tend to misplace your playthings."

"Very funny. I sent them to Roswell. Have you seen them?"

"Now, why would you have done that? I told you this was my assignment."

"And I decided you needed some help because I'm Khivar's Second, and I get to do that. Have you seen them?"

"Nope. If you told them to stay hidden, which I imagine you did, I'd say they're doing a bang-up job."

"No one who doesn't report in is doing a bang-up job," Nicholas said crossly. "What do you know about these power outages?"

"I know the human power grid is a pile of toothpicks held together with chewing gum and Scotch tape," Vanessa said. "I'm surprised this doesn't happen more often."

"Then obviously you haven't been paying attention. The outages are following a specific pattern. They started in New Mexico, and now they've moved into Arizona. When the power goes off in a new area, it goes back on in the old one. It looks deliberate."

"Are you accusing me of playing pick-up sticks with the power grid?"

"I was just wondering if you had anything to share," Nicholas said acidly. "You know, like progress? Has your beloved Daniel finally turned up?"

Vanessa licked some bacon grease off her fingers. "Yes."

" 'Yes'?" Nicholas repeated. "And you didn't tell me?"

"He only just resurfaced," Vanessa said. "I'll get back to you when I've finished taking his temperature. Good luck with your grid. And your missing toys."

She hung up on his sputtering, ignored his subsequent calls while she finished her breakfast in peace and quiet, and headed for the office, where her ever busy intern was busy even at this hour. "Parker," Vanessa nodded.

"Hi," Parker said.

"Here before school starts," Vanessa noted. "Now that's dedication."

Parker smiled weakly while Vanessa eagerly picked up a pile of messages, leafing through them. "Are there any other messages?" she asked. "Did Mr. Pierce call?"

Parker hesitated. "No."

Oops, Vanessa thought, registering the look on Parker's face. She'd been determined to wait patiently, and here she was, abandoning that resolve for the second time in the last hour. "Look at me," she said ruefully, "waiting for my boyfriend to call. Which one of us in high school?"

Vanessa went into her office, attempting to muster some interest in the day ahead. It was Tuesday, only three days since she'd freed Jaddo, but it felt like three weeks. She really needed to get a grip. "Actually, Congresswoman?" Parker said from the doorway, "Agent Pierce isn't...coming back. Ever."

Oh, good grief, Vanessa sighed. It was a universal axiom that the young were creeped out by the thought of their elders having sex, but this was too much. "What are you talking about?" she chuckled. "You make it sound like he's dead."

"No, no, no, um...uh…" Parker paused, struggling for words. "You see, he left this message...a voicemail...saying that he was going away, and he wasn't coming back ever...and that it was over between the two of you."

Vanessa stared at her in shock. "I want to hear it," she said tightly.

"Um...I erased it," Parker confessed. "It was really harsh," she rushed on, "and cold, and...you know, trust me, you just...you didn't want to hear it."

"I can make those decisions for myself, Parker," Vanessa protested. "I'm a big girl."

Parker's mouth worked for several seconds before she managed a barely audible, "I'm sorry."

"Voicemail," Vanessa said faintly, finding it hard to breathe as she slowly lowered herself into her chair and Parker quietly let herself out. How ironic. Rath's Warder had just dumped her via phone. She stared into space for a long time, unable to believe her ears. Why would Jaddo do that? He'd been committed to the treaty, probably more so than she was. Was this Brivari's doing? Perhaps it was Brivari who'd called, posing as Jaddo, who was posing as Pierce, in an attempt to derail a treaty he didn't support? Or maybe…

A moment later she started laughing, loudly enough that Parker shot some alarmed looks in the direction of her office. Oh good Lord, but she was an idiot! Jaddo hadn't dumped her—Pierce had dumped her, and in a very public way which was sure to set tongues wagging. It was all tied together, his silence, the power grid problems, Nicholas's missing operatives. They'd killed one in the Holiday Inn, but the other had never returned. She'd assumed Brivari had gotten to him, but that had never been a satisfactory answer because it didn't make sense; Royal Warders were smart enough to realize that missing operatives drew attention. But Jaddo was hot-headed and temperamental just like her, and after his capture, she could easily see him hunting down the second operative. That's where he was, why he hadn't reappeared. He was probably planning on retiring the Pierce personna, and this was his way of letting her know he was okay, albeit in a heart-stopping way.

Jackass, Vanessa thought fondly as she started leafing through the endless stack of papers which seemed to live on her desk no matter how much she cleaned it. When he got back, she was going to give him a substantial piece of her mind for scaring her like that.





*********************************************************





West Roswell High School






"So were you going to tell me about this?" Michael demanded.

"I just told you," Max answered.

"Ages after it happened," Michael said sourly.

Pulled off to the side in a hallway with students milling past, Max's eyebrows rose. " 'Ages'? It happened last night."

"And it's not 'last night' now. Why didn't you call me last night?"

"Because it was late," Max said, "and because I handled it."

"Yeah, you 'handled' it," Michael huffed. "All by yourself, like you usually do."

"We handled it," Max said pointedly. "Tess, Valenti, and me."

"Great, so now you're 'handling' things with everyone but me?"

"No, Isabel knew nothing about it until after it was all over. Michael, what's this all about?" Max demanded. "It's all settled—"

"Right, it's settled without me," Michael said. "Seems like everything gets settled without me, or without anyone even consulting me."

"I'm consulting you now—"

"Yeah, after it's settled," Michael said. "Just like you usually do. And assuming you've told me everything, which I'm not sure you have."

"Of course I have," Max protested. "Someone broke into Tess's house last night—"

"Not 'someone'—an alien," Michael corrected. "Ordinary burglars don't leave thousands of dollars worth of artwork untouched and pieces of skin hanging from the back hedge."

"Fine, an alien," Max said patiently, "and now she's staying at Valenti's house—"

"And why is that?" Michael demanded. "Why isn't she staying with you and Isabel? You know what? Never mind—I already know the answer to that. This is about Liz, isn't it? Because everything's always about Liz, even when she's not here."

"Well, I suppose we could send Isabel over to your place and put Tess in Iz's room," Max said. "Then we'd be doing everything 'by the book'."

"This isn't about the book, and you know it," Michael retorted.

"Then what is it about?" Max demanded. "Valenti agreed that he was the best one to take her in. She's not used to pretending, not in her own home. She doesn't have to pretend with Valenti and Kyle because they already know what's what."

"I pretended with Hank," Michael said.

"Yeah, you did," Max agreed. "Until you didn't. And we both know how well that worked out."

"Hey, I was defending Isabel!" Michael exclaimed. "You heard him!"

"I know, I know," Max said wearily. "I'm not trying to start a fight over Hank. I'm just pointing out that you, of all people, should realize how hard it would be for her to have to pretend all day, every day, around the clock."

"Because you don't want your fake parents to know," Michael said scornfully.

"Because you don't want them to know either," Max said pointedly. "The fewer people who know, the better, not to mention that my dad would be all over the fact that Tess is technically a minor. He'd be digging into Ed Harding, and looking for relatives and lots of other things we definitely want him staying out of. Valenti is perfect because everyone will assume the sheriff is doing all that."

"I just think she should be with one of us," Michael argued.

"Fine," Max said shortly. "She can stay with you."

A bell rang, and students scattered as quickly as Michael backed up. "Me? Why me?"

"Why not?" Max shrugged. "You want her to be with 'one of us'. If she moves in with you, she's with one of us, and she doesn't have to pretend. Oh...I get it," Max said when Michael just stared at him. " 'One of us', means my place, not yours. Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"She'd be better off with Isabel," Michael said, irritation having been replaced by awkwardness. "The girls would be happier together. And they'd both be better off with your mom."

"Oh, now she's my mom?" Max said sharply. "A minute ago she was just a 'fake parent'."

"Admit it," Michael ordered. "You don't want her there because of Liz."

"I admit I don't want her there," Max allowed, "but not because of Liz. In case you haven't noticed, Liz and I aren't exactly together any more."

"Yeah, well, at least one of you has some sense," Michael muttered.

"I don't want her there because she thinks of me as her husband, and I'm not," Max went on, ignoring him. "I don't remember being married to her. I don't want to be forced into a relationship I don't want, and apparently you don't either because I don't see you picking out china patterns with Isabel. That's my excuse. What's yours?"

"Look, it doesn't matter where she's living—"

"Certainly seems to matter to you," Max said.

"—what matters is what whoever broke in there was looking for," Michael said. "What were they after? What did Nasedo have that they wanted?"

"Tess said she didn't know of anything they'd be after," Max answered.

"Just because she doesn't know of anything doesn't mean nothing's there," Michael argued. "Obviously someone thought something was there. And just because she said she doesn't know of anything doesn't mean that she doesn't."

"You think she's lying?" Max said.

"I think she's capable of it," Michael answered.

"Capable of what?" another voice said.

Michael huffed impatiently as Max's eyes dropped and Tess came up behind them. "What are you doing out here during class?" Michael said.

"Peeing," Tess answered, waving one of Mr. Sommer's coveted bathroom passes. "And I could ask you two the same question, but I'll stick with my first one, so...I'm capable of what?"

"How'd you know we were talking about you?" Michael protested.

Tess smiled. "I didn't. You just told me. Cough it up, Guerin, or am I so frightening that I render you speechless?"

Max said nothing as the two stared each other down. "Fine," Michael said flatly. "You told Max that you didn't know of anything anyone would want to steal. I'm not sure I believe that. You've kept things from us before. What's to stop you from keeping things from us now?"

Tess nodded slowly. "I see. So it's still 'us' and 'her'. Well...I guess I already knew that."

"You haven't answered my question," Michael noted.

"True," Tess agreed. "So here's my answer—there is nothing in my house that I know of that an alien would want to steal."

"What about something you don't know of?" Michael said. "God only knows what Nasedo had."

"Well, if I don't know about it, I can't tell you about it, now can I?" Tess said. "Besides, if Nasedo had something important enough to steal, what makes you think it would be at the house? The book was hidden in the library. The healing stones were with that Indian."

"River Dog," Max corrected. "And she has a point, Michael."

"So you're telling me there was nothing hidden in your house?" Michael said. "Nothing at all?"

"Of course there was something hidden," Tess answered. "All the paperwork for our fake identities, the deed for the house, all the stuff on 'Ed Harding's' bank accounts. All of that was hidden in a space like the one in the library, with a handprint lock, and all of that was untouched, so no one found it."

"You didn't mention that last night," Max said.

"In front of Valenti? No, I didn't," Tess said. "But it was the first thing I checked."

"When you ran upstairs," Max nodded.

"It's in Nasedo's bedroom," Tess said. "I brought it to Valenti's with me, so it's safe."

"If Nasedo had one hiding space, he could have others," Michael said.

"He could," Tess agreed, "but if he did, he never told me about it."

"But we should look," Michael argued. "We should go over that place with a fine-toothed comb."

Tess shrugged. "Okay."

" 'Okay'?" Michael said.

"Yeah, okay," Tess repeated. "I'm going over after school to pick up more of my stuff. Meet me there, and we can tear the place to shreds if you want. What?" she went on when they both stared at her. "If there's something there, I want to know about it too. We all do."

"You guys go," Max said. "I've got work."

"What, the UFO Center is more important than this?" Michael protested.

"Access to the UFO Center is important," Max corrected, "so why don't you take point on this? And then afterward I can accuse you of not telling me about it soon enough to suit me, and we can do this all over again. Twice in one day. Double the fun."

"So now you're a stand-up comic?" Michael retorted. "Keep the day job."

"Do you want this, or do you just want to bitch that you're left out?" Max demanded.

There was a brief pause while Michael gave them both a stony stare. "Fine. I'll be there."

"See you then," Tess said.

Michael stalked off, leaving Max and Tess alone in the hallway. "Sorry about that," Max said. "He gets like this when he's worried."

"Oh, so that's what it is," Tess said. "And here I thought he was like this all the time."

Max smiled faintly. "Right. So...how life with the Valenti's?"

"The sheriff's good," Tess said. "I got to cook this morning for someone who actually enjoyed it."

"Great!" Max said. "What about Kyle?"

"Ah," Tess sighed. "Kyle."

"Is he upset?" Max asked.

Tess shook her head. "I'm afraid 'upset' doesn't even begin to cover it."





*********************************************************





Yes! Alex thought, sliding into the computer lab and finding it blessedly empty. This was the highlight of his week, alone in a room humming with technology, with any or all of it at his disposal. The reasons why this particular lab was empty at this particular time on this particular day were still a mystery to him, one he hadn't pursued for fear of alerting someone who would promptly demystify it by taking it away. No, best to just enjoy the rare times the universe sent flowers and not ask impertinent questions about who sent them. He never mentioned this to anyone, never opened the door any wider than absolutely necessary to admit his thin frame, never turned the lights on, never made a peep lest someone investigate. Now he slid into a chair at a terminal in the middle of the room, the furthest point from either the door or the windows, and jiggled the mouse. The screen awoke as the thrum of students hurrying in the halls faded into the background and he descended into the land of Python, Visual Basic, and Java, where everything was colorful, orderly, and predictable…

Slam!

Crap. Alex peered over his monitor, afraid he'd find a teacher. But it was only a kid, a single kid with his back to him, peering out the narrow window in the door. Maybe he'd come in by mistake? Or maybe he was hiding from someone? Maybe if he stayed very, very quiet, the kid would leave and that would be the end of it Seconds ticked by as paradise hung in the balance, until the kid finally turned around.

"Valenti?" Alex said in surprise, forgetting his vow of silence as the sheriff's son and one of West Roswell's biggest jocks surveyed the lab like it was a minefield. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you," Kyle answered. "Is there any other reason I'd be in a place like this?"

"I...well, no, but...what are you looking at?" Alex said as Kyle went back to staring through the window.

"I'm making sure no one saw me come in here," Kyle said.

"Good!" Alex exclaimed in spite of himself. "I mean...I know why I think it's good, but...why don't you want anyone knowing you're in here?"

Kyle gave him a pitying look. "I have a certain reputation, Whitman. I can't be seen talking to geeks, or hanging out in Geek Land. No offense."

"None taken," Alex said. "Even jocks have computers that need fixing. What's wrong with yours?"

"I'm not here about a computer," Kyle said. "I'm here about the little green men."

"Little...green men," Alex said slowly. "Haven't we established that there are no little green men, per se?"

Kyle looked puzzled. " What is 'persay'? No, never mind—it's not a little green man anyway. It's a little green woman."

"A little green woman," Alex repeated.

"Yeah. She's moved in with us, and I don't know what to do."

Ooooookay, Alex thought as Kyle continued to peer out the window as though he were being chased. Word was that Kyle had only just returned after being gone all summer, supposedly to put some distance between himself and his misadventure last spring, if death by gunshot could be labeled a "misadventure". Perhaps that hadn't been the best idea. Perhaps he should have stayed here and worked things through. "So, Kyle," Alex went on, "have you by chance been...you know…"

Kyle stared at him as he mimed a tipping cup. "What? No! I'm not drunk! What, do you think I'm nuts? I never drink beer at school!"

"Words to live by," Alex agreed. "But you're not making sense, so it was a logical conclusion."

"No, no, I...look," Kyle said in exasperation, "this all started with Noriega."

"Noriega," Alex repeated. "The Panamanian dictator currently imprisoned here in the US. What about him?'

"No, not him...the other "N" word. "No, not that "N" word," Kyle protested when Alex's eyebrows rose. "Nixon? Nader? Navratilova? Nasedo!" he finished triumphantly. "The guy that was with Tess. He just died. Somebody killed him."

"Yeah, I know," Alex said. "I was there when Max blew into the Crashdown with the news that he was dead on his bedroom floor."

Kyle's eyes widened. "No shit!"

"Just pitched through the window and cacked on the carpet, from what I hear," Alex said.

Kyle sank into a nearby chair. "Wow. That's messed up."

"Tell me about it," Alex agreed.

"Did you know Evans and I got drunk together once?" Kyle said. "Stinkin', rip-roaring drunk."

"Really?" Alex said, tactfully omitting that he'd seen at least part of that experience—a very painful part—on the night of the Blind Date Concert.

"He's not half bad when he's in his cups," Kyle chuckled. "You should have seen the stuff he…" He stopped, staring into space. "Holy shit! All that weird stuff he did that I thought I just imagined because I was bombed—he really did that! He really—"

"Kyle? Kyle!" Alex commanded. "Keep your voice down! No one's supposed to be...I mean, you didn't want anyone knowing you were in here, right? Well, someone's going to hear you if you keep carrying on like that. Now, you said you were following me. What for?"

"Right. Right. Sorry," Kyle said. "I need your help. With the little green woman."

"Kyle," Alex said patiently, "there are no 'little green—"

"I mean Tess," Kyle interrupted. "I woke up this morning, and she was asleep on our couch. And Dad says she lives with us now because an alien broke into her house, and it's not safe for her to go back."

"Wait—an alien broke into her house?" Alex said. "When was this?"

"Last night," Kyle answered. "You didn't know?"

Alex sat back in his chair and shook his head. "It's not like there's an e-mail list. Damn," he went on ruefully. "Nasedo said their enemies were here. Guess he was right."

"This heaven is so vast, no message can stain it," Kyle intoned. "How may a snowflake exist in a raging fire?"

Alex blinked. "Isn't that...Buddha?"

"That's me," Kyle said in a hollow voice. "A snowflake in a raging fire. There was an alien on my couch, Whitman, and not just any alien—a girl. There's a girl in my house, with girly things, and girly clothes, and girly—"

"Okay, I get it," Alex broke in. "Interesting that the girl part is bugging you more than the alien part, but whatever. Did you talk to your Dad? What'd he say?"

"That it was only temporary," Kyle said, his hands working in front of him. "Just until they figured something out."

"Well, there you go, then," Alex said. "It's only temporary."

"But what do I do until then?" Kyle demanded. "I was trying to get away from the little green men, and now one of them is living with me? And it's a girl? That's like a double whammy! Girls are alien enough without them being actual aliens! You've been at this alien crap longer, Whitman. What the hell am I supposed to do with an alien girl?"

Ouch. "Um...okay," Alex said, choosing his words carefully. "First thing to remember? They're people. So we don't call them 'it'. You don't say, 'it's a girl', you say, 'she's a girl'. Just like you would for any other girl."

"Okay," Kyle said, nodding rapidly. "Okay. Alien etiquette. This is good. I knew a geek could help. What else?"

"You just treat her like you would anyone else—no, scratch that," Alex amended, noting that Kyle's human etiquette wasn't exactly Emily Post material. "She's a guest in your home for a short while, so treat her like you would a guest."

"I don't know how to treat an alien guest," Kyle said.

"Forget the alien part," Alex counseled. "It's not relevant."

"Not relevant?" Kyle repeated. "What the hell are you talking about? What if she, like, blows me up in my sleep, or morphs into some hideous, tentacled creature? What do we really know about these...these…"

"People," Alex said patiently.

"Okay, 'people'," Kyle finished reluctantly. "What do we know about what they can do, what they will do if we piss them off?"

"You know, you have a point," Alex said, giving up. "So your best bet is to not piss her off. Don't give her a reason to blow you up. Be on your best behavior. Make Miss Manners proud."

Kyle considered that in silence for so long, Alex was beginning to fidget. "You know, you're right," he said finally. "I'll just keep my distance. I'll just keep my mouth shut."

"That would be best," Alex agreed.

"And I'll keep a baseball bat by the bed," Kyle added.

"If...that makes you feel better," Alex allowed.

"It would," Kyle confirmed. "Just in case. 'Speak softly, and carry a big stick'. That's what Buddha said."

"Uh...no, that was Teddy Roosevelt," Alex corrected.

Kyle looked blank. "Oh. Close enough. Thanks, Whitman. You know, for a geek, you're almost tolerable."

"Gee, thanks," Alex said, grimacing from the sharp smack on the arm Kyle had just given him. "For a jock, you're ever-so-slightly human."

"Thanks, man," Kyle said, the sarcasm sailing straight past him. "I won't forget this." He peeked through the door. "Coast is clear. Enjoy your...whatever is you do in here."

Geez, Louise, Alex thought, massaging his sore arm. It was easier talking to a block of wood than a jock. But at least his precious empty lab was still safe, and he might have gotten Tess a reprieve from the Neanderthal she was bunking with. Ironic, really, that the jock with the party-hearty reputation was terrified of an alien girl while the geek was trying to get closer to one.





**********************************************************





Want to c u

Her phone hidden behind her textbook, Isabel smiled. Michael's brush with the law was thankfully over, but her brush with the one who'd sent the dominoes falling thankfully wasn't. Grant Sorenson was quite a bit older than she was, but that's what made him so enticing; he was better mannered, better spoken and, despite his dusty occupation, better smelling than the average high school boy. Best of all, he didn't know her; with him she was free to be whoever she wanted to be, which was very appealing amidst the maelstrom of recent events. He wanted to see her, and she wanted to see him; the trick would be getting away from the eagle eyes of the rest of them. Me 2, she wrote back, tapping awkwardly on her phone's keys. Grant was so much better at this texting thing. Maybe he could give her some pointers on how to speed things up...

"Evans, Isabel," Mrs. Iorillo called.

"Here," Isabel said, her eyes still on her phone as something swished by her.

"Evans, Maxwell."

"Here."

Isabel glanced up. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"

"She never takes attendance until about 5 minutes into the class," Max whispered. "Michael's freaking because I didn't call him about Tess last night."

"Michael freaks whether you call him or not," Isabel said, glancing down as her phone flashed L8r? 4 pm?

"What's that?" Max asked.

"Nothing," Isabel said quickly. "So...Michael. Freaking."

"And Tess said Kyle was freaking," Max added.

"And I'm not the one freaking," Isabel said. "There's a switch."

"Michael and Tess are going to comb Tess's house after school for anything Nasedo left behind," Max said. "You're going with them."

"Why?" Isabel demanded. "I have something else do to this afternoon."

Max arched an eyebrow. "Something more important than Nasedo's murder and Tess's house being robbed by an alien?"

Crap, Isabel muttered inwardly. "Oh, all right, but...wait. I'm going with 'them'? Where are you going?"

"To work," Max said.

"Oh, so that's more important than Nasedo's murder and—"

"Yes," Max broke in firmly. "It is. You, Michael, and Tess are going to search Tess's house, and I'm going to work. Is that clear enough for you?"

Isabel's eyes burned as she turned back to her phone and typed cant. Michael and Kyle weren't the only ones freaking. Max was freaking too; he just freaked differently, slipping into dictator mode in a vain effort to keep control of a situation which felt like it was slipping out of his control. This particular tendency of his had flared big time after his escape from the Unit, and she'd tolerated it with relative grace, but it was getting old. Besides, what was so all-fired important about the UFO center that it ranked above their latest crisis?





********************************************************





3:00 p.m.

UFO Center





The interior of the UFO center was as cool and dark as ever as Max walked down the familiar stairs into an unfamiliar tangle of furniture and boxes. "Evans," barked the new owner, the brand new owner who had just appeared out of thin air at a very suspicious time. "You can start by cleaning up that exhibit over there. Let me know when you're done."

"Okay," Max said.

Great people skills, Max thought as he got to work, but his mind wasn't on the exhibit. He hadn't mentioned Milton's sudden exit to the rest of them because he still wasn't certain if it was anything to be concerned about, and no one needed anything else to fret over. That meant he couldn't tell them why coming to the UFO Center was more important than joining them at Tess's house, which had left Isabel balking and Michael sulking. Only Tess had accepted the plan without comment or complaint, a kindness which made him want to pull her aside and pour out the whole story. It would be so nice to be able to share these burdens with someone, someone he didn't feel he had to protect from the truth, who wasn't always whining or objecting or overreacting. But it was what it was. Tess would just listen and wait for him to investigate further, but Michael and Isabel wouldn't. He needed more information before he approached them.

Brody walked by. Max watched him unlock the office door and go inside; when he left, it would be his turn. While the others searched Nasedo's house for answers, he was going to conduct a search of his own.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


We're back on schedule for every other week, so I'll post Chapter 28 on Sunday, April 26.

Thanks to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT




September 12, 2000, 3:15 p.m.

Harding residence






"Incredible," Isabel whispered. "It's creepy even when he's dead."

"Hold yourself together, Isabel," Michael said. "This is only the front yard."

But she's right, Tess thought as the three of them stood in the driveway, having just stepped out of the jeep in front of her house. It loomed before them, cold and forbidding, even the key rattling ominously in the lock. The door swung open as they all peered cautiously inside, no one budging from the porch.

"At least it was still locked," Isabel said.

"Thieves don't come in the front door," Michael said.

"I wouldn't know," Isabel noted. "And I'm wondering how you do."

"Don't," Tess said when Michael stepped forward. "I'll go first."

"I should check it out before anyone goes in there," Michael argued.

"It's my house," Tess countered. "I know it better than anyone. And I can defend myself, unless you'd like to argue that you have better control of your powers?"

Michael flushed and stayed put as Tess stepped inside, her eyes everywhere. For the first time, she had an inkling of how the rest of them had felt when they were so uncomfortable here because she was feeling it now, albeit for a different reason; she felt violated. Someone else had been here, someone who was very probably Nasedo's murderer, someone searching for what he'd told her she must guard at any cost.

There is nothing in my house that I know of that an alien would want to steal.

Tess inspected the house slowly, only slightly guilty over that display of semantics. No, there wasn't anything in her house that an alien would want to steal because she'd already removed what the alien wanted to steal. Nasedo had said the box belonged to the King, not his Second, so no way was she blurting out its existence in front of anyone but the King. And she'd decided there was little point in telling even the King while it remained locked because what were they going to do with it? Fret over it? Try to break into it? Argue over where to hide it? Isabel would do the first, Michael the second, and all of them the third; no, it was best kept quietly in her choice of hiding place until it opened, in which case it would be worth revealing. Besides, there was too much going on right now. No one needed more to deal with, least of all Max, who'd almost had his head taken off by Michael and Isabel because he hadn't accompanied them.

"All clear," she reported when she returned to the front door.

"Does that mean we have to go in?" Isabel said dubiously.

Michael gave her a scathing look and marched inside. "Where is it?" he asked Tess.

"Where's what?" Isabel asked.

"Show me," Michael ordered when Tess raised an eyebrow.

"I don't like your tone," Tess said. "Max didn't either."

"Well, it was weird that he didn't come with us," Isabel said.

"He had a good reason," Tess said. "And no, I don't know what it was, but he must have. He wouldn't have skipped this without a good reason."

Michael snorted softly. "How much you wanna bet that 'good reason' is Liz?"

Tess shook her head. "Nope. Liz left before we did, and she went in the opposite direction of the UFO Center."

"So you notice when Max and Liz leave, and which direction they're going?" Michael said.

"Yeah," Tess answered, "I do. I find facts to be much more useful than tantrums."

They faced off in the front hallway, Isabel looking back and forth from one to the other in consternation. "Okay, can we please get this show on the road?" she pleaded. "I don't want to spend any more time in this creepy house than I absolutely have to. No offense," she added awkwardly.

"None taken," Tess said. "It's upstairs."

"What's upstairs?" Isabel said, trailing along up the stairs to the second floor, where she came to an abrupt halt. "What's this?"

"Nasedo's bedroom," Tess answered as Isabel hovered on the threshold.

"His bedroom?" Isabel said incredulously. "Okay, creepy just got way creepier."

"Would you get in here?" Michael barked.

"Would you mind telling me what in blazes we're doing in Nasedo's bedroom...whoa," Isabel said suddenly. "What's that?"

The handprint glowed over the bed, Tess having just revealed it. "This is just like the handprint lock in the library," she told Michael, who was staring it like it might explode. "It hides a space in the wall, a cavity, if you will. You just reach through the handprint."

"We never saw where the book was in the library," Isabel said, having overcome her reluctance and joined them.

"Go ahead," Tess coaxed Michael. "Stick your hand in there, and see for yourself."

He did, albeit cautiously, feeling around for quite some time before withdrawing his hand. "It feels like the inside of a box. An empty box."

"I told you it held the papers that support our alias," Tess said. "Birth certificates, fake school records, that sort of thing."

"And there was nothing else in there?" Michael asked.

"I also told you that I emptied it and took everything over to Valenti's," Tess said. "That's all there is."

"So whoever broke in didn't find this," Isabel said.

"How could they?" Michael said. "You'd have to search every inch of the house to find it."

"And who'd want to?" Tess added. "I don't see why a thief would want fake birth certificates and passports."

"Exactly," Michael agreed. "They were looking for something else, and we should too. Are there any more of these hiding spaces?"

"Not that I know of," Tess answered.

"Which means there might be," Michael said. "Let's get to work."

" 'Get to work'?" Isabel echoed. " 'Get to work' doing what, exactly? Guessing other hidey holes into existence?"

Michael looked at Tess, who shrugged. "It's possible he had other hiding places, but I think he would have told me about them before he left for Washington."

"If he has more, they're probably somewhere else, just like the library," Isabel argued.

"Maybe," Tess agreed. "But it can't hurt to look."

"So what, we wander around and wave our hand over every square inch of wall?" Isabel protested.

"Not just the walls," Michael said. "Ceilings and floors too. They could be anywhere."

"But that'll take ages!" Isabel objected.

"Look, if you'd rather do something else, I was going to pack my things," Tess said. "You could do that while Michael and I search. Let her go," she advised as Michael started to protest when Isabel practically fled. "I have to pack my stuff anyway, and you and I both know this is a long shot. Why don't you check the rest of this wall? I'll start on the next one over.

Michael huffed impatiently, but backed down and aimed his hand at the wall. He'll probably blow it up, Tess thought, although she really didn't care. She'd acted nonchalant, but the truth was she was every bit as keen on this search as he was. What she hadn't told them was that someone had definitely been in here since last night when they'd discovered the break-in. Whoever it was had been very careful to leave everything as close as possible to the way they'd found it, but they were no match for a pair of hybrid eyes trained to notice the smallest detail out of place because your life depended on it. She'd written off the first few things she'd noticed ever so slightly out of place or askew, but by the time they'd reached the second floor, the sheer number of such instances had confirmed her suspicions. Whoever had been here last night had come back, and they'd had all day to do a thorough search. Now it was their turn.






**********************************************************





Evans Residence






"Max?" Diane called in surprise. "Is that you?"

Crap, Max sighed, hastily closing the window he'd slipped through when he'd seen his mother's car in the driveway. So much for time to himself. "Hi," he said awkwardly when his mom appeared in his bedroom doorway. "You're home early."

"So are you," Diane noted. "I thought you said work started today."

"It did. I mean, I thought it did," Max amended. "The UFO Center has a new owner, and he told me...he said didn't need me for a few days."

"A new owner?" Diane said in surprise. "Where's Milt?"

"Don't know," Max shrugged. "The new guy said he bought him out."

Diane frowned. "Huh. That's odd. You still have a job, don't you? The new owner is going to need help, and you know the place better than he does."

"He's just getting everything up and running," Max answered.

"Okay," Diane nodded. "Well...I guess you get a few more days before the work/school grind starts again."

"Yeah," Max agreed. "A few."

"Oh, and Max? I didn't hear you come in, so...you didn't come in the window again, did you? I thought your father and I were very clear about how the weather stripping is getting ruined by all those feet—"

"I know," Max said quickly. "I remember. Maybe you just weren't expecting me, so you didn't hear me."

Diane stared at him for a moment. "Maybe," she allowed finally. "But no more windows, okay? That's what we have doors for."

"Right," Max nodded. "Gotcha."

She left, having thankfully not realized he hadn't explicitly denied coming in through the window or verified that he still had a job. Sinking down on his bed, Max stared at the floor, his mind churning. Normally it would be he fact that he'd just been fired which would have sent his world tumbling, but under the circumstances, that had barely registered. May 14. The day he'd been rescued from the Special Unit, the day they'd set off the orbs...what was that date doing on Brody's computer? 4:33 p.m. The timing was right, as they'd had to hole up in the cave, deal with the whole Pierce bit, find Nasedo's body, and…and bring him back to life Max thought sadly. Too bad that hadn't worked this last time. Pulse detected. Was that the orbs going off? It must be, but how could the orbs have caused a "pulse"? What did that even mean?

Set off those orbs, and you have no idea who you may be leading straight to us.

Max flopped back on the bed, his hands on his temples, a headache looming. It didn't matter what "pulse" meant; what mattered was that, whatever it was, someone had detected it and traced it here just like Nasedo had warned. He turned his head sideways, toward where Nasedo had died; it was hard not to look at that spot every single time he saw it, and given that it was in his bedroom, he saw it a lot. Maybe his parents would stop worrying about weatherstripping if they were to learn a dead alien had pitched through the disputed window. He could imagine his mother scrubbing the carpet until the color came out. If only windows and carpets were all they had to worry about.

They are among you now.

They headache was coming on full force now as Max continued to put the pieces together. It simply couldn't be a coincidence that stalwart Milton had been bought out by a guy who knew what had happened on May 14, assuming he'd actually been bought out, that is—for all they knew, Milt might be dead. And what was that weird thing on Brody's desk? Why had he gotten all freaky about it? He hadn't been lying when he'd told Brody he'd never seen it before. Maybe Tess would know what it was. Sitting up, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and started sketching until something occurred to him—Nasedo's house had just been robbed. Tess said nothing had been taken, but what if that weird device was what was taken? What if Brody was the one who'd taken it? What if Brody was the thief? Which would mean Brody was…a Skin. Whoever had been in Tess's house had left a piece of skin behind on the hedge in the back. He should check the UFO Center for pieces of…but he couldn't. He'd been fired. Here he'd just argued to Michael that access to the UFO Center was important, and now that it was more important than ever, he'd been fired. Shit. Now what?

A couple of minutes later his sketch was complete and he flopped back on the bed, a glimmer of sanity beginning to grow. God, but he was doing a Michael here, automatically jumping to the worst possible conclusions. Take this weird device he'd been sketching—how did he know it was even real? What if it was one of the millions of faux alien "devices", or a movie prop, or even a toy? And the whole pulse thing—Nasedo had warned them that setting off the orbs could lead others to them. Was it really so unthinkable that one of those others could be a very human UFO fanatic? And who else but a UFO fanatic would buy a UFO museum? The timing of the purchase was suggestive, but could also just be coincidence; he hadn't worked at the museum all summer, so he really didn't know what had been going on with Milton. He really needed to take a step back, or maybe a few dozen steps, and do some more digging. Like showing this sketch to Tess, for example, to see if she recognized it. Or finding out more about what happened to Milton…

Max sat up abruptly and reached for his phone. "Hi, can I speak with Philip Evans?" he said when his Dad's admin answered.

"Mr. Evans is busy at the moment," the admin told him. "May I take a message?"

"This is his son, Max Evans."

"Ah. One moment please…"

Max waited, feeling slightly guilty; he usually didn't name drop, but this was important. A few seconds later, his father's voice came on the line. "Max!"

"Hey, Dad."

"You don't usually call here," Philip noted. "Is anything wrong?"

"I was just...a little rattled," Max said, wishing he'd prepped his speech beforehand. "I went back to work today, and the museum's been sold to a new owner who says he doesn't know what happened to Milt."

"Really? Well, that kind of thing does happen," Philip said.

"Yeah, but...it was just really weird," Max said. "Is there any way you could look into the sale?"

"I don't do real estate," Philip said. "Are you suggesting there's something fishy going on?"

Not that I can tell you about, Max thought, desperately searching for the hook which would send his bulldog of a father into action. "I guess...I guess I was just looking forward to going back to work and having things be the way they used to be," Max said. "And then I get there, and the new owner is all surly, and...I don't know. It kind of rattled me."

"I see," his father answered, his voice shaded with concern.

"I guess I just want some more information on what happened," Max went on, pressing his advantage. "The new owner didn't want to talk about it, and I don't know where to look, or how to reach Milt, or…"

"No need to," his father said soothingly. "I can ask around and at least get the basics if that would make you feel better."

"It would," Max assured him. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. Don't you worry about this. I'll look into it."

I know you will, Max thought as he hung up. This wasn't the hard part. Even telling his parents that he'd been fired wouldn't be the hard part. No, the hard part would be telling Michael, or rather telling Michael in such a way that would prevent him from going down Paranoid Lane just as he had a few minutes ago. Sometimes it really sucked being the fearless leader. In a perverse sort of way, he was hoping they'd found something at Tess's house which would occupy enough of Michael's attention to give him time to get some answers before things got out of hand.






********************************************************






Valenti residence






Tess's arms and shoulders ached as she flopped on the Valenti's couch in the Valenti's house, which was curiously devoid of Valenti's. Nothing. That's what they'd found after hours of searching, hours of waving hands over every square inch of wall, ceiling, and floor in her former home. If Nasedo had any other hiding spaces, either they weren't in that house or they'd missed them, quite possible given the creeping exhaustion she and Michael had been suffering toward the end. Even Isabel had been pressed into service, Tess's collection of belongings being relatively small due to the need to up and run at a moments notice and thus not taking long to pack. If nothing else, she did have that to show for the afternoon's festivities, with several boxes and bags arrayed at her feet containing the rest of her worldly possessions, none of which were as important as what she'd removed from Nasedo's one known hiding place last night. Overcome with a sudden wave of paranoia, she bolted off the couch and checked beneath Kyle's bed, pushing aside the girlie magazines and Buddha Bible to make certain the little box was still there. It was. Whoever was after it either hadn't figured out that she had it or hadn't found it yet, hopefully the former.

Although I'm not certain anyone would notice if this house was tossed, she thought wrinkling her nose at the unemptied garbage, the piles of laundry, and the dirty dishes in the sink. Honestly, how did these people eat? What did they wear? And given that it was now after 6 p.m., did they ever come home? She'd braced herself for re-entry, not really being accustomed to having others around, and instead found herself in an empty, messy house. This needed to be cleaned up, not only to make it more livable, but also to make it easier to see if anyone was rifling through it the way they had at…my old house, she finished silently, realizing for the first time that she now officially saw that house as "other". It wasn't hers anymore, not after being searched twice by unknown intruders, and she hadn't been sad about leaving it to come back here. She'd offered to pay Sheriff Valenti for her room and board, but perhaps a better way method of payment was to take care of things the Valenti men clearly didn't, or didn't want to.

She set to work, and within the hour the dishwasher was humming, a load of laundry had moved from the washer to the dryer, and she was rummaging through the fridge and cabinets for dinner fixings. It appeared that Valenti's subsisted on frozen dinners and good ol' Chef Boyardee, but that got old fast. There was a grocery trip in her future, but tonight she would make do with what she had. When the meatloaf was in the oven, she found an old, neglected vacuum cleaner in a neglected closet and tackled the living room. If she had to sleep here, at least it would be clean…

"Turn……..off!"

Startled, Tess shut the vacuum off; she'd been humming along and not paying attention, so she'd missed the throbbing mountain of disapproval at the edge of the room, otherwise known as Kyle. "Hey," she said. "Where've you been? It's pushing eight."

"Where've I been?" Kyle echoed in astonishment, dropping his backpack in the middle of the floor, the preferred Valenti storage space for just about anything. "What difference does that make? What the hell are you doing?"

"It's called 'cleaning'," Tess said dryly, "and I'm not surprised you're not familiar with it."

"And what's all that racket?" Kyle went on, ignoring her. "The vacuum's off, but it still sounds like a freight train is running through here."

"That would be the thing called a 'dishwasher'," Tess said patiently. "It washes dishes. And the thing called a 'washing machine', and another thing called a 'dryer'. They wash and dry clothes."

"You're washing your clothes?" Kyle asked suspiciously, looking down at the various boxes strewn around the couch, a.k.a. her bed.

"Actually, I'm washing yours," Tess answered. "God knows I need to wash mine, but I've had a few other things on my mind recently, and I couldn't get to the washer anyway what with all the mounds of laundry around it. And on it. And in it. So I decided to do yours first, you know, kind of dig my way...out," she finished as Kyle yelped and made a beeline for the little utility room off the kitchen. Shaking her head, she was just about to turn the vacuum back on when the front door opened.

"Hey, Tess," Sheriff Valenti said, tossing his hat on a table.

"Hi, Sheriff," Tess said. "You're home late."

"It's my usual time," Valenti said. "The station is a harsh mistress. What's that smell?"

"Dinner," Tess answered as the oven timer went off and Valenti followed her into the kitchen, watching her pull a fragrant meatloaf from the oven just as Kyle appeared in the kitchen doorway with a wild look in his eyes.

"Kyle?" Valenti said warily. "You okay?"

"No, Dad, I am not okay!" Kyle exclaimed. "And what the hell was that weird noise? And what the hell is that?"

"The oven timer," Tess answered patiently, "and this is food. You're familiar with food, right?"

"Oh, very funny, Lieutenant Uhura," Kyle said crossly.

"Kyle!" Valenti admonished.

"Leave it," Tess advised. "I've been called worse. And frankly, that one's a compliment."

"It was supposed to be an insult," Kyle retorted.

"Try harder," Tess advised.

"Time out!" Valenti ordered. "Kyle, what's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Kyle echoed incredulously. "What's the problem? The problem, Dad, is standing right there! The whole house is throbbing with machinery, it smells weird in here—"

"That's the vacuum cleaner bag," Tess said matter-of-factly. "It was growing mold. I changed it."

"—there's crap all over the living room," Kyle continued as Valenti flushed, "she's doing...things...in the kitchen, and she's messing with my underwear!"

Tess raised an eyebrow and Valenti blinked as this last exclamation ended with a flourish in the form of a pair of boxers which Kyle brandished as though they were evidence that would send her to the gallows. "I believe what's he's referring to is 'laundry'," Tess told the sheriff. "I'm doing the laundry. Said Calvins were part of said laundry."

"Yeah, we don't get to that as often as we should," Valenti said, clearly embarrassed. "Or cleaning."

"I noticed," Tess said briskly. "Which is why I decided to earn my keep by helping out with things you don't get to as often as you should."

"Don't help," Kyle ordered. "Don't clean. Don't cook. And don't under any circumstances touch my stuff!"

"Kyle?" Valenti called as he stormed off. "Kyle!"

A door slammed, followed by a car's engine starting. "Guess it's just you and me for dinner," Tess said.

"Look, I'm really sorry about that," Valenti said sheepishly. "He's having a rough time with you being here. Guess you noticed that."

"Hard to miss," Tess admitted. "But I can't blame him. I'm having a rough time with it too." She paused. "We went back over to my house today. Someone had been there again. It wasn't obvious," she added hastily when Valenti's eyes widened. "The others didn't notice, but I did. Little things had been moved, too many of them. Someone's still looking for something."

"Then you can't go back there," Valenti said.

"I know," Tess said. "Whoever it is will be back. I don't want to be there when they come again."

"Of course you don't," Valenti said. "And I, for one, appreciate the effort you're making, and...and that smells wonderful. And I'm starving."

"Really?" Tess smiled as Valenti started fishing plates out of the cupboard. "Then let's eat!"

Forty-five minutes later, after a meal which came with the added bonus of conversation, Tess decided this was kind of nice. It was fun to cook for someone who appreciated it and fun to have someone to talk to while eating it. She might actually learn to like living here, if she managed to crack the nut named Kyle.






*********************************************************






September 13, 2000, 7:25 a.m.

West Roswell High School







Max Evans strode through the hall, more tightly wound than any watch spring. He'd had a difficult night with bouts of fitful sleep punctuated by bouts of fretting, and he was eager to get some answers, but he couldn't find Tess. Rounding a corner, he spied Maria and Liz having an animated conversation and headed toward them, catching snatches as he drew closer.

"…shredder was going so much, I was afraid it was going to burn out," Liz was saying. "Can you believe it?"

"They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Maria remarked. "Maybe we should change that to 'congresswoman scorned'."

"What happened?" Max said.

Startled, the pair turned. "Oh! Um...hi," Liz said, swiping her hair behind one ear like she did when she was nervous. "I was just...just telling Maria that Congresswoman Whitaker isn't taking Nasedo's—I mean Pierce's—disappearance very well."

"How would she know about his 'disappearance'?" Max asked.

"I...told her he'd left a voicemail breaking up with her," Liz said. "She was asking if he'd called, and I...I didn't do the wrong thing, did I?"

"I don't see how," Max shrugged. "It's all the better for us if she's not expecting to see him again."

"And get this—she's so mad that's she's shredding all her alien files!" Maria exclaimed. "That's definitely better for you, right?"

"Yeah," Max agreed. "It is. Hey, have either of you seen Tess?"

Maria's eyes narrowed, and Liz's face fell. "Uh...no," Liz said. "We haven't. But I'm sure you'll find her. I…have to get to class. See you later."

"Yeah, see you...ow!" Max said as Liz walked off and Maria whacked him on the arm. "What was that for?"

"Asking her where to find Tess?" Maria said in disbelief. "What is wrong with you? I thought you were still in love with Liz!"

"I am," Max protested. "I'm not looking for Tess because I'm in love with her. It's just business."

"Yeah, well, keep your 'business' to yourself," Maria ordered, "at least when that 'business' involves your former wife."

"She's not my former wife to me," Max protested. "I don't even remember her."

"I don't care if you remember her or not, just keep it to yourself! Men," Maria muttered in disgust as she flounced off, leaving Max shaking his head, but only for a moment; Tess had just walked in, and he hurried toward her, Liz's unhappiness barely registering as he pulled the sketch he'd made the night before out of his pocket.

"Oh...hey, Max," Tess said wearily.

"Is...something wrong?" Max asked.

"Well, Kyle hates me, and the Valenti's couch has springs manufactured before World War I, but other than that, everything's peachy."

"Kyle 'hates' you?" Max said. "What happened?"

"I was just cleaning up," Tess sighed. "You know, vacuuming, laundry, making some dinner, and he got all freaky on me and accused me of playing with his underwear. Never mind," she went on when Max's eyebrows rose. "I was just trying to help by doing the stuff he and the sheriff obviously don't get to. I guess he objected to me doing his laundry."

"I guess I don't know how good I've got it," Max admitted. "My mom does most of that. Pretty much all of that."

"Yeah, well, I've done pretty much all of that most of my life," Tess said. "Nasedo wasn't exactly what you'd call 'domestic', and he didn't wear clothes or eat like we do. If I wanted something done, I had to do it myself."

Max felt a pang of sympathy as Tess described a life he'd never known. He and Isabel had chores, of course, but their parents still did most of the heavy lifting and always had. Maybe it would be a kindness if she came to live with…no. Tess living in their house would raise a whole new set of complications that went way beyond Liz being disappointed and Maria punching him.

"Give him some time," Max advised. "Give all three of you some time. I'm sure you'll all need to get used it."

"I think the sheriff already is," Tess remarked. "He loved the dinner I made, and he couldn't stop exclaiming about how clean the house looked and how he'd forgotten about some of the clothes I washed...and I only vacuumed one room and did one pile of laundry. Imagine how thrilled he'll be when I move on to other rooms and other piles."

"Maybe Kyle will be too," Max suggested. "Maybe you'll find some underwear he didn't know he had."

"If you hear a scream echoing around town, that'll be it," Tess said dryly. "I gotta go."

"Wait. Um…" Max pulled the sketch he'd made out of his pocket. "Do you recognize this?"

Tess scrutinized the drawing of the five-sided device. "No. Why?"

"I saw it at the UFO Center yesterday," Max said, leaving out the part about being fired. "It looked so real, but then I thought it might be a movie prop, or something. A lot of so-called 'alien artifacts' are."

"Mmm," Tess murmured. "Not this one."

Max's heart sank. "Why do you say that? You said you didn't recognize it."

"I don't, but I think I recognize the writing on it. Are these markings accurate?"

"Yes," Max said warily. "What does it say?"

Tess shook her head. "I have no idea. But I think they match some of the writing in the book that was in the library. If they do, that means it's written in our language."

"Wow," Max said faintly.

"We should check the book," Tess advised, "see if there are any matches. Then we'll know."

"Right," Max said. "Thanks."

Tess hurried off, and Max leaned against the wall feeling like he had a lead weight on his chest. He'd been so hoping this thing was fake, but she was right—the symbols did look familiar. Still, that didn't make Brody anything but a human who'd chanced upon the rare genuine alien artifact. They still had to move cautiously here, especially because he knew Michael wouldn't.

He found Michael and Isabel standing outside their first period classroom. "We need to talk," he told them.

"We already told you we didn't find anything yesterday," Isabel said sourly. "We searched every bloody inch of that house, but—"

"This isn't about that," Max broke in. "Meet me after school by the bleachers."

"Don't you have work?" Isabel asked.

"I'll explain when I get there," Max said.

"Explain now," Michael ordered.

"After school," Max said firmly. "I'll see you then."






*********************************************************






Congresswoman Whitaker's office







"Here you go," Rose said, plopping a folder on her desk. "There's only one 'Tess' in West Roswell, so she wasn't hard to find."

"Who is she?" Vanessa asked.

"Sophomore. Transfer student. Just got here a few weeks ago. Mother's deceased, lives with her single father who works for the military. This is everything I could rustle up on them." Rose paused. "You haven't said why I'm digging up all this personal information on a kid."

"I'm working on an initiative for single parents," Vanessa said smoothly. "She's just one of the examples I got wind of."

"Oh...okay," Rose said, obviously relieved. "Great idea! Let me know how I can help."

"You already have," Vanessa promised her. "Thanks, Rose."

Her able assistant scurried off, mollified by the lie she'd helped to craft as Vanessa opened the folder and leafed through it curiously. Jaddo's "ditch you" voicemail, no doubt his preparation for ditching the persona of Pierce, had gotten her thinking about the next step in this game. Soon they would have to present their nascent treaty to their respective colleagues, and that's when the shit would hit the fan. It would be so much nicer to have an ace in her pocket, something to bargain with, to pique Nicholas' interest in a way she knew peace never would...and what better ace to have than Khivar's precious princess? She'd been so busy with Jaddo and the treaty that she hadn't yet pursued the Liz Parker angle, but fortunately the recordings she'd made of Parker's conversations had paid off, along with her Oscar worthy performance drinking and shredding, which had startled Parker into revealing perhaps more than she'd intended. Parker, it seemed, was now estranged from the boy who had miraculously saved her, pushed away by competition from a girl "from his past". The boy could be either Rath or Zan, the girl either Vilandra or Ava, but all that mattered for now was the girl. Even if she couldn't figure out her exact identity, she was close enough to make an excellent bargaining chip. Leafing through the folder Rose had given her, it was clear Tess Harding was blonde, smart, and new in town, which implied the hybrids had been separated. A bit odd, that, but...

Vanessa's eyes fastened on a photograph, some kind of shindig for new students. The face which caught her eye wasn't Tess's, looking dutiful but bored amidst the twenty or so new students, but the man behind her. She'd seen that face just once before, and she'd begged its owner never to show it again. "Why, Jaddo," she murmured, a small smile on her face. "I never took you for the domestic type."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 29 on Sunday, May 10.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE





September 13, 2000, 4 p.m.

Pod Chamber






Isabel stared straight ahead, ignoring the hand knocking on her window and Michael's muffled voice saying, "C'mon, let's go!" It was a windy day, so they'd driven here with the jeep's top up to cut down on the sand swirling around them. She really should thank the weather gods for this little windstorm which had bought her these last few precious minutes of peace and quiet before it all blew up again, because it would—she knew it would. Max and Michael knew it too, and they were all responding in predictable ways; Michael had leaped out of the jeep, ready and eager to fight, while Max had climbed out slowly, dreading the inevitable, and she was rooted to the spot. Some things never changed, including the propensity of their world to go to shit faster than you could say, "I'm an alien."

Michael knocked again, even more impatiently this time if that was possible. A third pass was thwarted by Max, who pulled him aside and spoke to him for a moment, after which Michael bounded up the jutting rock formation which housed the pod chamber like it was coated with rubber mats instead of rocks and sand. "Take your time," Max's muffled voice counseled her. "He's going on ahead of us."

Well, crap, Isabel thought, curiosity immediately getting the better of her. She resisted for a whopping sixty seconds before climbing out and joining her brother, who was leaning casually against the front end of the jeep.

"I hate this place," she said sourly.

"I know," Max said.

"Michael loves this place."

"I know."

"Is that why you let him go on ahead of us?"

Max shrugged. "He was raring to go, you needed more time, so I figured why not let him check the symbols against the book? Then he can say he got there first."

"Except that Tess thought of it," Isabel noted.

Max gave her a faint smile. "Details."

"They're going to match, you know," Isabel said. "Whatever Brody has, it's real."

"I know."

"For somebody who 'knows' so much, you're doing an awful lot of nothing," Isabel said crossly.

"Yeah, well, some of us climb rocks like monkeys, some of us refuse to look, and some of us just stand back and let the chips fall where they may," Max said.

"I'm not refusing to look," Isabel protested. "I just know what we're going to find, so excuse me if I'm not thrilled about it."

"So that's why you argued against coming here?"

"I had plans, okay?" Isabel huffed. "I had plans yesterday too, but no, we had to tear Tess's house apart instead. And today we had to come back to this smelly place that looks like an ancient placenta to find out what we already know."

"What we already think we know," Max corrected. "We need to know for sure, so we need to double check."

"And what about you?" Isabel demanded. "Michael's right, you know. It's weird that Milton disappeared without saying anything, weird that Brody showed up just as Nasedo is murdered, and even more weird that he's got something with alien writing on it and knows that something happened on May 14th. That's an awful lot of stuff you're refusing to look at."

"Don't you think I thought of all that?" Max said. "Every single one of those things and more occurred to me after I went home yesterday, and every single one of those things could be explained in a much different way. Like you said, none of them really proves anything. We have to be sure. We can't jump to conclusions. Who'd you have plans with?"

It was slipped in there so quietly, so unobtrusively, that Isabel almost answered before she caught herself: With Grant. "Friends," she said shortly. "Why?"

"Just wondered," Max said.

"So are we voting on whether or not I get to see my friends?" Isabel said irritably. "Or are you just going to render a decision from on high?"

"Depends," Max said. "Who are these 'friends'?"

"And since when do you show any interest in my friends?" Isabel demanded. "You're acting like they're dangerous."

"You said it, not me."

Isabel kept her eyes on the rocks even as she felt her brother's penetrating stare. Did he know? But how could he? He doesn't, she decided. He just suspected, and if she wasn't careful, she'd confirm that suspicion. If her parents found out she was interested in an older man, they'd freak. "All I 'said' was that I'd rather be somewhere else right now. And that," she went on, nodding toward the rocks, "is way more dangerous than any of my friends. You're barking up the wrong tree, big brother."

Max's eyes swung skyward where Michael was excitedly gesturing for them to come up. "He won't wait for you to pow wow with Valenti, you know," Isabel said. "No matter what you say."

"I know," Max said. "Let's go."

"Wait—why?" Isabel said as Max started forward. "He obviously found a match, or he wouldn't be so excited. Why do we have to go up there?"

"Because he gets excited," Max answered. "And when he gets excited, his judgment isn't the best. I want to see this for myself, and you should too. Look at it this way...the sooner we check this out, the sooner you can get back to your friends."

"I hate this place," Isabel muttered, following him.

Max kept walking. "I know."






**********************************************************






UFO Center






Nothing, Courtney thought with a sigh at the side entrance to the UFO Museum, where there was no message from Larak in their usual place. He'd had twenty-four hours to deliver the terms of the treaty, so what was taking so long? Impatient, much? she thought dryly. The notion of a treaty between Rath's Warder and Khivar's Second's lover would send jaws dropping, then flapping throughout the five planets; she'd probably have to wait the better part of a week before anyone would calm down enough to actually consider the terms, and given the message she'd just received from Brivari, she could safely say she didn't have a week.

Found him.

Good ol' Brivari, Courtney thought ruefully; only he could be exceedingly brief and speak volumes simultaneously. She'd suspected that he'd located the errant operative when the mysterious communication glitches which had plagued the southwest had ceased. His confirmation had sent her scurrying and, interestingly, pissed off Dee, who had heard nothing from him and was none too pleased about that. But Dee was not the one tasked with finding the mysterious box, nor the one held responsible for the fact that they hadn't despite a second middle-of-the-night trip to the Harding house. If she had no leverage when Brivari returned, Vanessa would be dead in short order and the treaty along with it, and leverage only came in the form of the box or Larak's influence, neither of which she had. She was halfway through scribbling a message on her order pad when the door suddenly opened.

"You again!" a furious Brody declared. "Why do I keep finding you out here?"

"No one answered the front door," Courtney said smoothly, holding up a paper bag she'd prepared for just this eventuality. "So I thought I'd try—"

"What is it with people snooping today?" Brody demanded. "You're snooping, my employees are snooping. Next thing you know, I'll find the CIA in my bathroom staring up at me from my toilet. I'd like to see them do something with that view."

Wow. Courtney's eyebrows rose as Brody glared at her, genuinely angry. He was always acerbic and suspicious, but this was a new level of paranoia. "Somehow I don't think delivering dinner qualifies as 'snooping'," she said calmly. "And by 'employees', do you mean you've hired more people? Because I thought you only had one."

"See, that's the thing," Brivari said flatly. "I didn't order anything today. As for 'employees', I have none, because I fired the one I had."

"Okay, maybe somebody thought you'd ordered…wait, what? You fired Max Evans?"

"Damn right I did," Brody said. "Like I said, he was snooping."

"But...he works here," Courtney said. "How can he be 'snooping' if he works here?"

"He broke into my locked office and was into my private stuff," Brody said. "Although I can't for the life of me figure out how he got in. That's no ordinary lock I've got on that door."

And that's no ordinary hybrid you've got on your staff. "Maybe it was left unlocked," Courtney said reasonably.

"It's a state-of-the-art, computer-controlled system," Brody declared. "You can't 'leave it unlocked'."

"Right," Courtney said dryly. "And we both know that computers never, ever, ever mess up. But have it your way," she went on Brody blinked at her. "So what'd he do? Break something? Steal something? Rifle through all that toilet paper?"

"He didn't…'do'...anything," Brody said, a shadow of doubt creeping into his tone. "He was just standing there, looking."

"At…?"

"None of your business," Brody snapped. "Or his."

"Okay," Courtney said carefully. "Well...maybe he was just curious."

"That's what he said," Brody answered. "And I don't care if he was just curious, you don't go grubbing around in your boss's private stuff, especially when it's clearly marked 'private'. I thought you said he was a decent kid."

"He is a decent kid," Courtney said patiently. "But he's still a kid, and to most kids, there's no lure like the lure of the forbidden. Tell'em they can't have something, and that's what they'll want the most."

"I don't care what he wants; you don't mess with stuff marked 'private'," Brody said crossly. "You don't go places you're not supposed to, you don't touch stuff you're not supposed to."

As he spoke, his hand moved in his pocket, Courtney caught a glimpse of what was inside...and didn't check her expression fast enough. "What?" Brody demanded, pulling his hand out of his pocket. "Do you know what this is?"

Holy shit. Courtney's eyes fastened on what appeared to be an early prototype of a trithium amplification generator, a bit bigger than the final version. No wonder Max had broken into his office; the galaxy symbol on it would have been a dead giveaway. "What is that?" she exclaimed breathlessly, seeing a chance to maybe get Zan off the hook. "That is so cool! Is that, like, a movie prop or something?"

Brody's eyes dropped to the TAG, then rose to meet hers. "So you don't know what it is?"

"I know it's mondo cool looking! Can I see—"

"No," Brody said, pulling it out of her reach.

"Okay," Courtney said quickly. "It's just...wait. Is that what Max was looking at?"

"Why?" Brody asked suspiciously.

"Well...I mean, who wouldn't look at that? It looks like something out of Alien or Star Trek. I'm just delivering a sandwich, and I want to play with it. Oh...that's right! You said you didn't order a sandwich. Someone must have screwed up, so I'll just take it back—"

"No," Brody repeated, this time less abruptly. "I...I should eat something. I'll take it."

"Really? Okay," Courtney said, handing over the bag. "But since you didn't order it, it's on the house. And I promise I won't try the side door any more if you don't want me to."

"Uh...thanks," Brody said uncomfortably. "I...look, I'm sorry I'm so…"

"Grumpy?" Courtney suggested.

"More like shell-shocked," Brody said. "I just got some really bad news. Really bad news."

He looked so miserable that Courtney felt sorry for him. "Bummer. Well...I hope your news gets better."

"Can't get much worse," Brody said quietly. "Thanks for the sandwich."

Join the club, Courtney thought, waiting a bit to make certain he was gone before altering her message to Larak. Trithium Amplification Generators were also communicators; if that prototype was capable of communication, someone needed to disable it, and fast. If Brody managed to contact someone, however unwittingly, Sauron's Eye would swing this way faster than you could say "dead king".





**********************************************************





Valenti residence





"Yummm-ee!" Valenti enthused, surveying the spread on the kitchen table. "Man, that looks delicious!"

"Thank you," Tess said, glad she'd made at least one Valenti happy today and hoping she could make that two. No one had been home when, weary of the saggy couch, she'd donned Kyle's jersey and stretched out on his bed mid-laundry. Given how late both Valenti's seemed to arrive home, she'd thought she'd be safe, but no such luck. After the resulting argument with Kyle over his clothing and his bedroom, she'd retreated to her couch and Kyle had retreated to his room. Dinner was a peace offering.

"Kyle!" Valenti called, all but smacking his lips. "Dinner! Now let's see...is that chicken? Yes? And salad, and rolls...are those homemade? They look homemade."

"Frozen dough," Tess explained. "It's a lot faster. And I left the salad fixings separate because I didn't know who liked what."

"We just like food," Valenti assured her, "so we're pretty easy to please. Kyle! Dinner! Are those croutons?"

"And tomatoes," Tess said. "And onions. And some shredded cheese. I like cheese on my salad. Do you?"

Valenti blinked at her. "I...guess I don't know," he admitted. "It's been so long since we've eaten like this, I'm not sure what I like. Where'd you get all this stuff? Because I know we didn't have it here."

"I went out this afternoon," Tess said. "I can make up a list for the grocery store."

"Not sure I'd know where to find all this," Valenti said. "We're more of a frozen dinner kind of family. Kyle! For Pete's sake, it's dinner time! I'd hate to see all this get cold," he went on, pulling up a chair, "so he can join us when he...ah! There you are!"

Kyle had appeared in the kitchen doorway, but the look on his face made it clear that mere food wouldn't trump their earlier confrontation. "What's this?" Kyle said, eyeing the table suspiciously.

"Food," Tess answered. "Didn't we go over this yesterday?"

"Hilarious. I meant where did these plates come from? I've never seen them before."

"This was your mother's and my wedding china," Valenti said. "She left it here when she moved out."

"Guess it wasn't precious," Kyle said. "And no wonder—it's ugly. It's not only ugly, it's butt-ugly."

Tess raised an eyebrow. "Rude, much?"

"He's right," Valenti confessed. "She picked it; I wasn't consulted, not that I would have had much to contribute if I had been."

"So what's it doing on the table?" Kyle said.

"I found it in the cupboard, and I thought it was...interesting," Tess answered. "But I can put it back if—"

"No, no, that's all right," Valenti said quickly. "I'm not sure we ever used this, so may as well take it for a test drive. And it's a nice change from our usual chipped stoneware."

"Speak for yourself," Kyle muttered, sinking into a seat. "What's this?"

"Chicken," Valenti answered, helping himself to a chicken breast before holding out the plate for Kyle, who looked at it suspiciously.

"Chicken? That's not chicken. Chicken is round and crunchy."

"He means Rondolets," Valenti explained sheepishly to Tess. "Told you we were a frozen food family. This is home cooked chicken," he told Kyle. "Try some."

Kyle stared at the platter for a moment before grabbing a roll. The platter hung awkwardly in the air like a spurned handshake before Tess helpfully took it off Valenti's hands, and the other dishes were passed with Kyle refusing everything offered. Knives and forks scratched on plates as everyone ate in oppressive silence for several minutes.

"So," Valenti said finally, "how was school today?"

"Okay," Tess answered after pausing to look at Kyle, who ignored him. "How was the station?"

"Max called," Valenti said. "He's curious about the new owner of the UFO Museum."

"Yeah, he showed me something he found there," Tess said. "He thought it might be a movie prop, but it had our writing on it, so—"

"Is this what dinner's going to be from now on?" Kyle broke in. "Alien Central? Alien Hour? All About Aliens?"

"I just asked you how school went, and you didn't say anything," Valenti said.

"Because we don't talk about school, Dad!" Kyle said reproachfully. "We talk about sports! You didn't ask me about the team, or practice, or anything you know I'm interested in, but you report on the latest alien news. Forgive me if I'm feeling outnumbered."

"Not sure how that math works," Valenti said. "We've got two humans and one alien here."

"Two and a half," Tess corrected. "I'm half human."

"Yeah? Well, tell both halves to stay out of my stuff," Kyle retorted.

"Here we go," Tess sighed.

"What?" Valenti said, looking back and forth from one to the other. "Here we go where?"

"Good question," Kyle said crossly. "Where exactly are we, Dad, because I don't even recognize my own house any more! I'm eating weird food off weird plates, there's someone else in the bathroom, someone in my bedroom, someone wearing my clothes, digging under my bed..." He stopped, flushing. "I just want my stuff to be my stuff. Is that too much to ask?"

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Valenti said.

"He's mad because I was wearing his jersey earlier," Tess explained. "I've been doing the laundry, and I did yours before I got to mine, so I ran out of clothes, and I just grabbed something from the basket."

"Good thing it wasn't his boxers," Valenti chuckled. "Joke," he added hastily when Kyle gaped at him. "It was just a joke."

"Do I look like I'm in a joking mood?" Kyle demanded.

"No, but you're definitely in a mood," Valenti said. "Look, I was just trying to take the edge off. Tess did the laundry for us; isn't that worth something?"

"Not when she winds up wearing the laundry she's doing," Kyle retorted. "Would you be so giddy if she'd grabbed one of your shirts?"

"Honestly? I wouldn't care," Valenti said.

"No, of course not," Kyle said sullenly. "You just want a live-in maid."

"I'm nobody's maid," Tess protested. "I'm just trying to contribute to the household that's giving me shelter."

"Which, I remind you, was the result of a man being murdered," Valenti said sternly to Kyle.

"I didn't kill him!" Kyle exclaimed. "So I don't see why I should have to give up my bed, and my clothes, and my magazines for something I didn't do!"

"I never asked you to give up your bed," Valenti protested, "and what's this about magazines? So she read a few magazines. So what?"

Tess bit her lip as Kyle's face flamed and Valenti's eyes narrowed. "Wait...didn't you mention 'digging under your bed'? What kind of magazines do you keep under your bed?"

There was a long, painful silence. "The private kind," Kyle finally mumbled.

Valenti sighed and tossed his napkin on the table. "Okay, where'd you get'em? They're not supposed to sell those to anyone under 18." He waited while Kyle stared at his empty plate, the roll having long since disappeared. "Fine," Valenti said shortly. "I'll go find them and track down the sellers myself. Under the bed, right?"

Tess watched in alarm as Valenti rose from his chair. The last thing she needed was him digging under Kyle's bed, and not because Jugs was supposed to be in a plain brown wrapper behind the counter. "They're Buddhist magazines," she blurted.

Both Valenti's stared at her in shock. "Buddhist…magazines?" the sheriff repeated.

"Yeah," Tess said. " 'Cause, you know, Kyle's a Buddhist now."

Valenti slowly lowered himself into his chair as he looked at his son, whose face was now virtually on fire. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Why would it be?" Tess asked.

"This is about that mumbo jumbo you were saying when I picked you up after football camp, isn't it?" Valenti demanded

"It's not 'mumbo jumbo'!" Kyle said furiously.

"It isn't?" Valenti said. "As I recall, it was something about bulls and locusts. All religions have mumbo jumbo. That's why we don't belong to one."

"So...you already knew about this," Tess said.

"I knew he dabbled in something at camp," Valenti said, "but I thought it was over. I didn't know it was still going on, and I certainly didn't know he was actually calling himself a Buddhist or reading Buddhist magazines. I didn't know they had Buddhist magazines. Do Buddhists even read magazines? Is that allowed?"

Tess sighed wearily as her attempt to defuse the girlie magazine scandal morphed into a scandal of a different kind altogether. The sheriff looked genuinely pissed and Kyle genuinely humiliated, way beyond mere embarrassment. Kyle had made it clear he didn't want his friends to know about his latest pursuit, but it hadn't occurred to her that his own father considered being a Buddhist worse than having a tit fetish.

"...and I certainly didn't send you to camp just to see you come home brainwashed!" Valenti was saying. "It was football camp. Football."

"I'm not brainwashed, Dad!" Kyle exclaimed. "I just...I'm just...oh, forget it," he said in disgust, pushing his chair back.

Tess put a hand over his, effectively halting his exit. "Sheriff, I think you're being unfair. Kyle's been having a rough time lately. You said so yourself, remember?"

The sheriff flushed slightly, and Kyle slowly lowered himself back into his seat. "All that stuff last spring really threw him for a loop," Tess continued, "and my moving in just made it worse. He needs something to help him cope with it. I'm sure you do too, you just probably picked something else. Buddhism isn't a religion, it's a philosophy, and if it gives him some peace of mind, what's the harm? I could use a little peace of mind myself." She looked at Kyle. "We all could."

Kyle looked away and the sheriff shifted uneasily in his chair. "Yeah, but Buddhism? Why Buddhism?"

"Why not?" Tess said. "And why do you think Buddhism is worse than porno magazines? Why is a philosophy which emphasizes the good in every person worse than one that turns women into objects?"

"Wouldn't exactly call that a 'philosophy'," Valenti said uncomfortably.

"What would you call it?" Tess asked. "A religion? Porn probably brings in more money than any church."

"I'd call it...I don't know," Valenti said, beginning to sweat. "How did we get into a discussion on pornography?"

"I believe it started when you threatened to search Kyle's room," Tess reminded him.

"Yeah," Valenti said awkwardly. "Right. Look, Kyle...do whatever works for you. Just please don't shave your head and start banging drums in airports. Or expect me to."

"I think he means Hare Krishnas," Tess explained when Kyle looked blank. "See? He doesn't even know what you're talking about. That's not what Buddhists do."

"That's encouraging," Valenti muttered as the phone rang. "I have to get that. And when I come back…let's pretend we never had this conversation."

The sheriff's voice floated from the hallway as Tess went back to her dinner and Kyle sat in stunned silence. "Did...that just happen?" he said finally.

"I didn't realize he didn't know," Tess said.

"He didn't know because I knew he'd react just exactly like that," Kyle said.

"Word of advice?" Tess said. "The next time you don't want someone to know you're a Buddhist, don't spout Buddhist sayings to them. Kinda gives away the game."

"I didn't mean to," Kyle protested. "I'd just gotten back, and then he told me Noriega had died—"

"Nasedo."

"Whatever. It's like I hit town, and it all came crashing back as soon as my feet hit the pavement."

"I know the feeling," Tess sighed.

Kyle stared at her for a moment before dropping his eyes. "Yeah...well...I hadn't decided when to tell him. Or how. Or how to talk him down when I did. How'd you manage to talk him down so fast?"

Tess shrugged. "I did grow up with the grumpiest person out there. Your dad's a kitten by comparison. And he loves you. Really loves you. Nasedo never loved me. He was just my guardian." She paused. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I won't go near your room again."

"I'm sorry too," Kyle allowed "I was being a dick." He paused. "This is the part where you say, 'No, Kyle! You're not a dick! Don't say things like that about yourself!' "

Tess smiled faintly. "I've never been much of one to do things by the book."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Me neither."

"I know. Because of your reputation," Tess explained when he raised an eyebrow. "You know, the one you mentioned earlier?" She held out the basket of rolls. "Since this is all you're eating, better fill up."

Kyle peered at the table. "Actually...I was thinking of trying that stuff you call chicken."





********************************************************





UFO Center






The phone rang. Startled awake, Brody lurched on his chair, nearly toppling as he scrambled for his phone. Please let it be Sharon...please let it be Sharon...

It wasn't. With a sound akin to a sob, Brody tossed the phone on his desk and put his head in his hands. If anyone needed proof that the world had just turned upside down, they need only look at him now, praying to hear from an ex-wife he normally avoided like the plague. They only ever talked to each other through their lawyers, having long ago learned it was better that way, but this was different. Who was it who'd said that having a child was like having your heart walk around outside your body? Much as he loved his daughter, he could honestly say he'd never actually felt that way until now. The computer screen glowed with the reason why.

...test results…

...metastasis…

...inoperable...

...chemotherapy…


That e-mail had been on his screen since this morning as he'd frantically tried to reach his ex. She'd called back once, while he was talking to a supplier, of course, and sounded genuinely apologetic that she'd missed him. But there was something else in her voice that spooked him, something Brody had never heard—Sharon was scared. He'd never seen her scared, not once in their 15 years of marriage, but she was scared now, and that simple fact scared the hell out of him. He'd been walking around in a fog ever since, here but not here, seeing but not seeing, hearing but not listening. It was weird the way the mind controlled the body; he felt genuinely sick, shaky, nauseous, unable to eat or sleep for any length of time. The remains of that unordered sandwich lay in a smelly heap on his desk, the half he'd consumed having come up the same way it had gone down and not having tasted much different either way. Even his taste buds were rebelling. If only it could have been him instead of his little girl...

Brody sat up suddenly, opened a drawer. The five-sided device which had claimed Max Evans' job and the waitress's interest lay inside, silent now, enigmatic. This was the reason he was here now, in pursuit of the reason it had sounded an alarm on May 14th. He was certain it was alien, and the aliens had cured him. Sharon had thought him nuts for thinking that, but he'd never doubted it; it was the only explanation which made sense. If the aliens had cured him, they could do it again, and if it really belonged to them, perhaps he could use it to reach them. Not that he hadn't tried to make the thing sing and dance again, but now he had motivation. Now his little girl's life hung in the balance. Now he'd find them if he had to build a spaceship and fly it there himself, wherever "there" was. Pacing the floor, he stabbed at buttons in different combinations, pointed it this way and that, wandered outside the office. Maybe it wouldn't work because this was a fallout shelter and the walls were so thick. Was it a reception thing, like with cellphones? Did he need a certain number of bars?

And then, suddenly, the device began to vibrate. Fascinated, Brody watched as a wave of blue light radiated from it, knocking over some boxes...and drawing a yelp of pain.

"Who's there?" Brody called in alarm, running toward the noise and spying a dark figure motionless on the ground. "Stay where you are!"

But the figure was motionless no longer. Struggling to its feet, it limped away as Brody raced after it, yelling "Hey! Don't move! Hey! Hey!"

The back door closed behind whoever had been there. Brody stared after them for a moment before turning his attention to the important part—the gizmo had done something. He wasn't sure what, exactly, nor did he recall what he'd done to set it off, but he'd done it once, so he could do it again, and he just might get the aliens' attention. Ignoring the fallen boxes, ignoring whatever his intruder might have been after, he hurried back to his office.

Back to the business of trying to contact the aliens.





*********************************************************





Harding residence




And here we go again, Courtney thought wearily as she closed the front door of Jaddo's house, still in pursuit of Brivari's elusive box. She honestly had no idea where to look that she hadn't looked already, but she intended to keep looking until she saw the whites—or, more likely, blacks—of his eyes. Leverage was hard to come by with Royal Warders and worth pursuing. Leaving the lights off, she moved into the living room.

A light snapped on. Startled, Courtney flattened herself against the wall to find an amused Vanessa draped comfortably over the sofa.

"Not what I was expecting," Vanessa remarked. "Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised. So Jaddo was your contact after all."

Courtney gaped at her, silent and wide-eyed. "I'm only going to ask this once," Vanessa said, "so I suggest you consider long and hard before you refuse to answer." She leaned forward, eyes hard.

"Where is he?"



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 30 on Sunday, May 24.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER THIRTY



September 14, 2000, 12:30 a.m.

Harding residence





Courtney gaped at the sight of Vanessa primly seated on Jaddo's couch in her congressional Sensible Suit, congressional Sensible Hose, and congressional Sensible Heels. What in the name of all that was holy was she doing here? The light she'd flicked on glinted off her watch, neither congressional nor sensible, more like Cartier, but then she'd always had expensive tastes…

...the light…

"Are you out of your mind?" Courtney exclaimed, lunging for the light switch and gazing anxiously out the window to see if anyone had noticed. "Nobody's supposed to be here! If one of Valenti's deputies sees a light, they'll...what are you doing?"

Vanessa stood stock still, crouched in the fighting stance she'd assumed after lurching from the couch. "Why, Vanessa," Courtney said dryly. "Did I frighten you? I had no idea you were so scared of little old me."

Vanessa blinked, straightened. "Don't be ridiculous," she huffed. "I have finely honed reflexes. I defend myself without thinking."

"Oh, I'm sure," Courtney said sarcastically. "Everyone on the five planets knows about your 'finely honed reflexes', especially when you're horizontal. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Same as you," Vanessa said. "Looking for Jaddo. Save it," she advised as Courtney debated playing dumb. "It doesn't matter how I know he's posing as Ed Harding, I just do. And what a spread," she went on, glancing around the room, the contents of which were only barely visible. "Art. Sculpture. Fit for a king. Or a queen. Or a princess. He does have good taste. One of many things we have in common."

Courtney stared at her, putting the pieces together as Vanessa continued to gush. So she'd figured out Jaddo's alias of Ed Harding, tracked him here, and... And she still doesn't know he's dead, Courtney realized, or likely even suspect it. That's why the light was on, why she was carrying on about his taste in art in a tone laced suspiciously with what sounded like fondness. Her ignorance could get her killed, and unfathomable as it was, she was the best hope for peace Antar had at the moment. It was time she knew.

"So have you thought about our conversation a few days ago?" Vanessa was saying. "I gather you couldn't muster the nerve to come to me for details as I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since then."

"I've thought of little else," Courtney said truthfully. "And I didn't need to come to you. You're not the only one Jaddo entrusted with the terms of your treaty."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I said—"

"I heard what you said," Vanessa broke in sharply. "Who else knows?"

"None of your business," Courtney said.

"Like hell it isn't!" Vanessa exclaimed. "If there's another player on the board, it most certainly is my business! It wasn't you, it can't be Brivari because Jaddo was all tied up in knots about telling him, so who the hell could be so important that he'd tell them something like that?"

"No one you need to know," Courtney answered, privately noting that Dee would love this, smarting as she was about Brivari not contacting her. "What you do need to know is that it's a good treaty. I support it."

"So you do have a brain!" Vanessa said with mock joy. "And this shadow player? Do they support it also?"

"Pretty much," Courtney said, "but with some reservations."

"With some...oh, for heaven's sake!" Vanessa spat. "Just wait until I get my hands on him! We never even discussed telling anyone else, never mind anyone with 'reservations'."

"Funny you didn't mention that when you told me," Courtney said blandly.

"That was different," Vanessa argued.

"Oh, of course it was," Courtney said. "It's always different when you do it. Just not in a good way."

"Well, aren't you just the little toady," Vanessa said darkly. "Never saw that coming, not when you were always all backtalk and treason."

"If I were you, I wouldn't throw that word around," Courtney advised. "Drafting peace treaties with Covari is treason last I knew. I'd love to continue the girl talk, but we don't have time, so let's cut to the chase—Jaddo's dead."

Vanessa's open mouth froze, having no doubt been about to launch into another stream of invective. "What?"

"He's dead, Vanessa. He's been dead for several days now. You need to know this so you don't go making more stupid mistakes like leaving a light on in his house."

There followed a silence so profound that the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner suddenly rose several octaves. Courtney waited while several emotions worked their way across Vanessa's features, most recognizable, some not. "Dead?" she repeated after what seemed a very long time. "Dead? No," she announced with the conviction of one accustomed to getting her way. "No. That can't be right."

"Look, I'd love it if just saying 'no' would make it so," Courtney sighed. "But I don't live in an ivory tower, so I know it doesn't work that way."

" 'Ivory tower'?" Vanessa echoed furiously. "Do you actually think this stinking planet is anything even close to resembling an 'ivory tower'? Do you think these flaking husks are ball gowns, or—"

"Preaching to the choir," Courtney interrupted. "I'm wearing a flaky husk too, remember? I live on this stinking planet too, remember? And I want to go home every bit as much as you do, remember? It was a rhetorical reference. My point was—"

"I know what your point was," Vanessa said crossly. "And you're wrong. He just called me, so he can't be dead."

"No, he is dead, so he couldn't have called you," Courtney corrected.

"And you know this for a fact?" Vanessa demanded. "You saw his body? You saw him turn to dust?"

"Well...no," Courtney admitted. "But I have it on very good authority—"

"I let him go!" Vanessa exclaimed. "And that was after we killed the operative, so who was left who could off a Royal Warder?"

"There were two operatives," Courtney reminded her. "What happened to the other one?"

"He followed me up to Las Cruces and never came back," Vanessa said. "We assumed Brivari got to him."

"Or he encountered Jaddo making his escape, and attacked," Courtney said.

"Speculation," Vanessa scoffed.

"Have you seen this missing operative? Do you know for sure what happened to him?"

"Well...no, but...look, do you have any idea how hard it is to kill a Covari?" Vanessa demanded. "Wound one, yes, maybe even badly, but even if he looked dead, they could bring him back with healing stones. Truly killing one is a tall order, and well beyond the scope of the Neanderthals Nicholas sent to spy on me."

Courtney shook her head. "Earth metaphors. We've definitely been here too long. And I seem to remember you managed to kill Malik. After you made me torture him, that is."

"Technically, he killed himself," Vanessa noted.

"Oh, right," Courtney said bitterly. "Like he wouldn't have wound up dead anyway. I guess Malik got the last word in the end, him and my father. My father was just easier to kill."

Courtney held Vanessa's gaze, unsurprised by how much the memory of that episode hurt even after all these years. Her father had died by Nicholas' hand and so had Malik, the first Covari she'd ever truly known and the one who'd taught her that they were people in their own right, not mere automatons as everyone on Antar believed. By the end, Malik had become something she'd never expected—a friend. That would have been unthinkable back home, far more unthinkable than the incredible notion of her and Vanessa actually working together, which would have been considered just politics. It was a measure of how much she'd changed that the former now seemed normal to her while the latter did not. She'd hated Jaddo's guts, but not because he was Covari.

"That wasn't me," Vanessa said quietly. "That was Nicholas at his worst, which means it was badly handled. But your father was anything but easy to kill, or even find. He brought the Resistance right to Khivar's doorstep with no one the wiser. Nicholas was so angry that he'd missed that, the leader of the Resistance right in his inner circle. Your father was quite the challenge, and you've clearly followed in his footsteps."

"Such high praise from the steps of the throne on which Khivar has yet to park his ass," Courtney retorted. "And what a buzzkill that you managed to remind me of why I hate you when I have to keep you alive. Jaddo's dead, Vanessa, and since Brivari blames you, you'd better get out of town."

"He's not dead," Vanessa insisted. "I told you, he just called me. Parker said he left a message breaking up with me, which is what he would do because he planned on retiring the Agent Pierce facade. He's probably out chasing that other operative."

Courtney shook her head sadly. Parker. So Zan's girlfriend had concocted a phone call to throw her boss off the trail, not realizing that Vanessa was the trail. "Brivari captured the second operative, the one who killed Jaddo," she said firmly. "He'll be back any day now, and believe me when I tell you that you do not want to be here when he arrives. This is the best chance Antar has had for peace since the fall, and you have to sell it to Khivar's side. You can't do that if you're dead, so pack your bags and get the hell out of Dodge while you still can."






********************************************************





6:30 a.m.,

Evans residence






Damn it, Isabel thought wearily as her books slid to the floor, toppling off the bed like a cascade of bad luck, an apt metaphor if ever there was one. That's what she got for lying awake all night, alternately tossing and turning or staring at the ceiling, only to inconveniently fall asleep forty-five minutes before her alarm went off. Now she was exhausted, scattered, and scared, not to mention late. Re-stacking her books, she careened into the hallway, running smack into her mother.

"Isabel!" Diane exclaimed. "Are you all right."

"Just running late," Isabel said, sidestepping.

"Wait, honey...um...is the natural look a thing now?"

"Mom, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for this," Isabel said.

"Oh. Okay, I've just never seen you go to school without make-up."

Isabel blinked, then darted back into her room. "It's okay, really," Diane assured her as she stared into the mirror with dismay. "You're a natural beauty, sweetheart. You don't need paint. You just caught me off guard, that's all."

"Yeah, I can relate," Isabel whispered. "It's nothing," she added hastily when her mother gave her that trademark "tell-me-what's-wrong-so-I-can-fix-it-for-you" look that mothers everywhere seemed to know instinctively. "I...I just didn't sleep well, and I'm running really late, and...and I just forgot."

Diane's eyebrows rose. "Forgot your make-up? You're not running that late. All right," she went on when she saw the look on Isabel's face. "I'll stay out of it. What can I do to help? Get your breakfast ready?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Isabel said. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anything for you, sweetheart," Diane said, planting a kiss on her unmade up cheek. "See you in the kitchen."

Isabel sank down in front of the mirror, grabbed a lipstick...and stopped. She could put a face on in her sleep, and she always did it the hard way—she liked watching the colors build, feeling the brushes sweep across her skin, the lipstick glide across her lips. Using her powers seemed like cheating. But she was short on time today, and besides, how was that cheating? She was an alien; if events of the last year had done nothing else, they'd driven home that salient fact, a fact she'd always tried to avoid, to ignore, to hide. But what was the point of hiding it when you were hunted? Passing a hand across her face produced a properly made-up face in seconds, and now she wasn't as late as she would have been, which was a good thing. So why did she feel like a tiny little part of her had just died?

After checking to make certain she hadn't forgotten anything else glaringly obvious, Isabel hurried to the kitchen to find her mother breakfasting with Max. "I guess you're both running late today," Diane noted. "Is there something special going on today, like a test?"

"Uh...yeah," Isabel answered as Max remained silent, his eyes boring into hers. "A test. That's it."

"Goodness, what in?" Diane asked. "I never see you two get worked up over tests like other people's kids. You always seem to breeze through school as though you'd already learned everything."

"It's a new subject," Max said.

"What, like 'new math'?" Diane laughed. "I poured you some cereal, sweetheart, Lucky Charms because you were having a bad morning. Remember how you used to hunt for the marshmallows?" She smiled and rubbed Isabel's arm. "Don't look so stricken, honey. Whatever it is, it'll be over soon, right? Just remember I'll always love you, no matter how it turns out."

Diane's heels clicked on the floor as she left the kitchen, and Isabel put her head in her hands. "Don't say it," she warned her brother. "Just don't."

"Don't say what?" Max asked. "That our big test is killing someone? That our new subject is murder? That there's no guarantee she'd love us 'no matter what' if she had any idea what we're contemplating—"

"Stop," Isabel ordered. "Just stop. It's not 'murder' if it's self defense. Brody attacked Michael last night. We have a right to defend ourselves."

Max tossed his spoon into his bowl. "Here's the thing. Michael said Brody didn't realize he was there until after he fell and knocked over the boxes. So if Brody didn't know he was there, how could he have attacked him?"

"He had the device you saw," Isabel argued, "and he did something to it that made it hurt Michael."

"He may have done something to it, but I still don't see how it was intended to hurt Michael if he didn't know Michael was there," Max said.

"So, what, he was cleaning his gun, and it just went off?" Isabel said. "And Michael just happened to be in the line of fire? He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Yeah," Max admitted. "No big surprise because Michael's always in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he'd left it alone like I told him to, this wouldn't have happened and we wouldn't be contemplating murder."

"Would you stop using that word!" Isabel groaned.

Max gave her a level stare. "If you can't even hear the word, Isabel, how do you expect to do the deed?"

"I'll find a way," Isabel retorted. "I'm tired of being in the line of fire, Max. I'm tired of the people I love being in the line of fire. Even if Brody didn't know Michael was there, he's still an alien, and he still has an alien device that can hurt us."

"How do we know he's an alien?" Max said. "Having an alien device doesn't make you an alien. If it did, Liz, Maria, and Alex would all be aliens because they've used healing stones. It doesn't work that way."

"I don't care how it works!" Isabel exclaimed. "I just want this to be over with! I'm tired of being scared, of always having to look over my shoulder. I just want this all to go away."

"So do I," Max said. "I'm just not sure killing a man is the way to get there."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Isabel demanded. "What does the 'king' say?"

Isabel felt a tiny flare of satisfaction as Max winced; he hated that word, almost as much as she hated the "M" word. "I talked to Valenti," he answered, not taking the bait. "He's going to look into Brody's background—"

"Oh, right," Isabel broke in sarcastically. "Nasedo had an impeccable 'background'. Tess had a perfect school record. Looking into someone's background is definitely tops on the to-do list when someone tries to kill you."

"And how exactly do you try to kill someone you don't know is there?" Max said. "You still haven't explained that."

"I am not getting into this with you," Isabel said tightly. "We've made our decision, and that's that."

"No, you and Michael made a decision," Max said. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm still on the fence."

"I said it before, and I'll say it again," Isabel retorted. "Pick a side and get on it, because time is running out."

"Okay, I'm off," Diane announced, clicking back into the kitchen. "Goodness, Izzie, don't look so upset," she chided when she caught a glimpse of Isabel's expression. "It's just a test! I know it seems like a big deal now, but in the grand scheme of things, I promise you it's not. If you do badly, I'm sure your teacher will give you a do over. It's not like it's life or death."





*********************************************************





West Roswell High School






"Hey."

Kyle Valenti peered around his locker. "Liz Parker! To what do I owe the honor?"

Liz leaned against the wall of lockers, the two adjacent to his having already been vacated by their owners. "Just saying 'hi'," she shrugged.

" 'Just saying 'hi' '," Kyle repeated. "You just randomly decided to swing my way and have a chat."

"Anything wrong with that?" Liz asked.

"No," Kyle allowed, "except for the part about it not being true. You know, you're a lousy liar."

"You think so?" Liz said. "Because I've lied more in the past year than most people do their whole lives, and I've pretty much gotten away with it."

"Fair point," Kyle admitted. "Okay, you're apparently good at lying when it's life or death. Which is good news, because your current sucky performance means whatever brought you here isn't life or death."

"Isn't it a little early for this level of paranoia?" Liz asked.

"I've reached the conclusion that there is no such thing as too much paranoia," Kyle answered, "so, no, it's not too early, or too late, or too middle of the afternoon-ish. Any time is a great time to be paranoid. That's my new motto."

Liz leaned in closer. "It gets easier, you know," she confided. "I know how you feel, but—"

"No, Liz," Kyle broke in, "you do not know how I feel. Because whatever you've done, whatever you've gone through, you do not have to live with a Martian."

"They're not 'Martians'," Liz protested.

"Whatever. And that's not the worst part. Even worse than the Martian part is—"

"The 'girl' part," Liz finished.

"Ah," Kyle said, wagging a finger. "I get it. Alex has been blabbing, hasn't he?"

"Kyle," Liz said seriously, "you voluntarily walked into a computer lab. He was worried."

" 'Worried'?" Kyle said with mock surprise. "Is that it? Nothing about why I walked into a computer lab without a gun to my head?"

"Well, he may have, you know, mentioned that you were a little…"

"Freaked out?" Kyle suggested. "Off my rocker? Flipping insane?"

"Tense," Liz corrected.

"Really?" Kyle said with amusement. "That's all he said? That I was 'tense'?"

"I'm summarizing," Liz confessed.

Kyle smiled faintly. "Oh, I'm sure. Nice job editing what must have been a hysterical rant down to a single, one syllable word."

"You know, for someone who hates school as much as you do, you sure seem to have studied up on your SAT words," Liz noted.

"I'm a man of many talents," Kyle said. "But living with girls of any species isn't one of them."

"Is it really that bad?" Liz said.

"You have no idea," Kyle said. "She's cooking. She's cleaning. She's doing our laundry. There are weird things in the bathroom, weird food on the table, weird stuff in the living room. It's awful."

"Wow," Liz said thoughtfully. "Cooking. Cleaning. Laundry. You poor thing. I mean, what's next? Is she going to save your life, or something?"

Kyle's eyebrows rose. "You know, Liz, you really should stop beating around the bush. Just come right out and say it! Speak your mind! Just say, 'Kyle, you're being an ungrateful dick!' "

"No need," Liz said sweetly. "You just did it for me."

Kyle sighed as he closed his locker door. "Fine. Someone's cooking and cleaning and washing for me—and saving my life, but let the record show that wasn't my current housemate—and I'm ungrateful. But also for the record, I'm ungrateful because I'm freaked. Home was the one place I didn't have to deal with aliens, and now I've got one living with me."

"Word of advice?" Liz said. "Don't fixate on the species part because, really, they're just like us. They're just people, people who happen to have been born somewhere else. And it's not for long, right? Because Alex said the whole reason Tess is there is because Nasedo was murdered, and—"

"Alex told you that?" Kyle said. "You didn't hear it from Max?"

"Um...well...Max and I don't...we aren't…"

"Ah," Kyle nodded. "Gotcha."

"I mean, it wouldn't be appropriate, what with Tess having been his wife, and all," Liz said.

"I vaguely remember hearing something about that," Kyle said. "But wasn't that a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away?"

Liz smiled weakly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Kyle. And if you want a primer on girls, I can give you one."

"You know, he turned her down," Kyle said when she started walking away.

Liz stopped. "Who did?"

"Max. I overheard Tess and my Dad talking. She wanted to live with Max, but he said no, and my Dad agreed. I gather she was pretty pissed about it."

Liz stared at him for a moment in silence, her expression guarded. "Yeah...well...I'm sure it was for the best," she said finally. "It's complicated, you know, with her having an alias, and Max's dad being a lawyer. Probably not the best idea to put those two together."

"Maybe," Kyle allowed. "But I don't think that's why Max turned her down."

There was another long moment of silence before Liz dropped her eyes. "If you need anything, just let me know, okay? I'll see you later."

"Oh, Liz? One more thing," Kyle said. "That night you won the blind date, and Max and I got drunk...did he...I mean, did he really do all that stuff I thought I'd imagined?"

"Probably," Liz said. "He didn't realize he could get drunk from just a taste. None of them did."

"No shit," Kyle said faintly. "Wow."

"There's a lot they don't know about themselves," Liz said. "I know you're not having a great time right now, Kyle, but their lives aren't exactly a picnic either. Even when the government isn't chasing them and trying to turn them into lab rats."

"Yeah," Kyle murmured as she walked away. "Someone may have mentioned that."






*********************************************************





Evans residence







Max pulled the jeep into the driveway and shut off the engine, but made no move to get out. The night was warm, the stars were bright, and a man was still alive because he'd stayed his hand despite being provoked, much the way John F. Kennedy had done. He'd listened to his gut, and his gut had been right—Brody Davis was no threat. That was a win on both counts, and he just wanted to sit here in silence under the stars and revel in the fact that, sometimes, those stars lined up for them in something other than the shape of a "V".

"Go ahead. Say it."

Max's head swung around to where Isabel was most definitely not enjoying the beautiful night sky. "Say what?"

"That I'm awful," Isabel said dully. "That I'm evil. That I was ready to kill a man who wouldn't have hurt us."

Max smiled faintly. "This morning it was, 'Don't say it'; tonight it's, 'Go ahead—say it'. If I'm not careful, I'll get whiplash. You were scared," he added as Isabel sank miserably into the corner like she wanted to disappear. "You didn't want to hurt anyone, you just wanted to not be scared any more."

"And what about Michael? Did he just not want to be scared?"

Max shrugged. "Michael was just...being Michael. Michael always wants to do something. He thinks if he's not taking action, he's not doing anything. He doesn't realize that taking action is only one way to do something. Thinking, waiting, doing research, those are all 'doing something' too. Just not his kind of 'doing something'."

"His 'doing something' never meant murdering someone," Isabel said.

"We didn't murder anyone," Max said. "Everyone's fine, everyone's safe."

"Thanks to you," Isabel said soberly.

"My 'doing something' list is a lot longer than Michael's," Max allowed, "and doing something drastic is at the bottom. This is why we're stronger as a group—we each have different ways of seeing things, of doing things."

"I think we're stronger without me," Isabel said. "At first I was just embarrassed, but the more I think about it, the more I think, 'What was I thinking?' Was I really going to just kill someone I knew nothing about?"

"No," Max said, "you weren't. It was bothering you—you know that. It's been bothering you all day, and it bothered you because deep down, you knew you were overreacting. If I hadn't pulled us back when I did, you would have. You would have pulled Michael back."

"You really believe that?"

"I do," Max answered.

Isabel looked away. "Then it looks like you have more faith in me than I do."

"Ask not what your sister can do for you, but what you can do for your sister," Max intoned.

"Oh, yuck!" Isabel exclaimed, laughing in spite of herself. "You can stop channeling JFK now. Your own personal Cuban Missile Crisis is over."

"And mine didn't last two weeks," Max noted.

"Thank God," Isabel groaned. "Two days, and I'm a wreck. Good thing tomorrow's Friday and I can sleep in the next day."

"Not me," Max said. "I'm working Saturday. Brody unfired me."

"Is that even a word?" Isabel muttered as they climbed out, but Max smiled. She must be on the road to recovery if she was correcting vocabulary.

Diane was waiting for them when they entered the house. "You two are home late!" she chided. "How did the test go?"

"We passed," Max answered, "with flying colors."

"Well, Max did," Isabel amended. "I flunked. Almost flunked," she added hastily when Diane's eyes widened. "Came too close for comfort."

"That would have been a first," Diane admitted. "I know you're used to straight 'A's', but flunking a test isn't the end of the world, sweetheart. There's a first time for everything."

Isabel shook her head. "Not this. I hope to God there's never, ever, a first time for this. I—" She stopped, suddenly aware she'd said too much. "It's been a really long day, and I'm whipped. 'Night, Mom."

" 'Night, sweetheart," Diane said. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Isabel gave her a brittle smile. "I hope so."

Diane frowned as Isabel left. "Max," she said slowly, "is everything all right with Isabel? She seems awfully upset over just a test."

"She's okay," Max assured her. "She just got scared, and she doesn't like being scared."

"Scared over a test?" Diane said doubtfully. "What kind of test was it, again?"

"A surprise test," Max answered. "And a really hard one. Unexpectedly hard."

"Ah, the 'pop quiz'," Diane sighed. "I hated those in school. I liked to be prepared, and you couldn't prepare for those, not really. Izzie's the same way, so she probably hates them too. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Max shrugged. "Just love her. That always seems to work."

"That's kind of you, Max, but how?" Diane said. "She didn't seem to want to talk to me about it...wait a minute. Her birthday's in just a few weeks."

"Already bought her a present," Max said.

"Yes, but what about more than that?" Diane said. "What if we throw her a party! Do you think that would cheer her up?"

Max pondered that for a moment, then smiled. "Not just a party—a surprise party."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 31 on Sunday, June 7.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Three days later,

September 17, 2000, 9:00 a.m.

Evans Residence





Eggs, Max thought, cracking the last of ten eggs into a bowl. Onions. Butter. Salt. The pepper would have to wait because pepper burned, so he started the onions heating in the frying pan before whisking the eggs with a fork. Not working, he decided, rummaging in the drawer between the sink and the stove. Too many eggs, not enough fork…

"Max?"

It was his mother, peering at him curiously as she shrugged on a robe. " 'Morning, Mom. Do you keep the whisk in here?"

"Uh...no, it's too big for that drawer, so I keep it over here," Diane answered, opening a larger drawer on the other side of the kitchen. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Making breakfast. What's it look like?"

"Breakfast," Diane admitted. "It's just that...when did you get into cooking?"

"I watched a show," Max shrugged. "And I was in the mood for scrambled eggs, so I decided to make enough for everyone."

"Izzie's already gone," Diane remarked. "Something about meeting a friend. But I'd be glad to join you for breakfast. Smells good," she added, eyeing the sizzling onions as he whisked the eggs. "And you look…"

"What?" Max said, dumping the eggs into the pan.

"Happy," Diane smiled. "You look genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. It's your sister who isn't. Must be that test she flunked."

"She didn't flunk," Max said. "She just didn't do as well as she wanted to. She still passed."

"Not to hear her talk about it," Diane said. "You'd think someone died."

Because someone almost did. "She's overreacting," Max said. "I set her straight."

"Well, I appreciate that," Diane said. "And this party you're planning should take her mind off whatever was bothering her. Is everything all set?"

"Should be," Max answered. "I'm going out right after breakfast to make sure everything's ready."

"It was nice of the Parkers to lend you the Crashdown on such short notice," Diane said. "I just wish your father could be here. Couldn't it have waited until he was back from his business trip? Her birthday isn't until next month—"

"No," Max said firmly. "Isabel needs this now."

Diane's eyebrows rose. "Is it as bad as all that?"

"She's just really down," Max said. "And you know Dad; he'll say he's free, but then something comes up, and parties aren't things you can move around, not if you want anyone to come to them."

"I know," Diane sighed. "His job has always entailed some weird hours. I guess he's used to it because he watched his mother juggle the same type of schedule—wait. You're adding butter to the eggs?"

"The show I watched said it made them nice and creamy," Max said. "I keep forgetting that Grandma Dee was a lawyer. I don't think of little old ladies as lawyers." He paused. "And I don't think of Grandma Dee as a little old lady."

"I was going to say, where did that come from?" Diane laughed. "Someone called her that in a store a while back, and she said, 'I may be little, I may be old, but trust me, I am no lady.' I thought the guy was going to die of embarrassment. I'll go throw some clothes on; your eggs look almost done. And creamy," she remarked, watching the butter melt. "Imagine that."

"You know, the world won't end if you eat breakfast in your PJ's," Max remarked. "I promise I won't tell anyone. Scout's honor."

"Are you psychoanalyzing me?" Diane teased. "But you're right, I just don't feel human until I'm dressed." She reached up, caressed his cheek. "It's so good to see you looking happy again. And confident, and trying new things, and needling me...it's like, all of a sudden, you're the king of the world."

"I am," Max said. "Just not this one."

His mother laughed, the reference lost on her. "Just promise you won't go down with the ship. Back in a few."

Talk about triple entendres, Max thought as he stirred the eggs. His mother loved Titanic, that weepy tale of doomed love, but "king of the world" had taken on a whole new meaning, one the fictional Jack Dawson would never have imagined. When he'd first learned that he was king of his planet, he'd thought there must be some mistake. Him, a king? He was a teenaged kid from New Mexico; how could he possibly be a leader of any kind? Their encounter with Brody had him reconsidering after leading his headstrong Second and frightened sister down the right path against their will, salvaging the situation, saving his job, and creating a friend in the process. Brody was downright chatty now that he thought Max was a fellow abductee, and in some ways, he was—had he not been abducted? The fact that it was humans doing the abducting was beside the point and left out of the account he'd given Brody when asked for his abduction experience. He'd used details from his time in that white room to construct the tale, not a tale at all, really, but a carefully edited slice of truth which had left Brody grateful that his experiences had been much more benign. He was curious as to whether it was his own people who were responsible for Brody's abduction or someone from another planet entirely. After all, if his people could not only make the journey to Earth but also recreate their royalty in human form, it stood to reason there were other worlds out there with people who could do the same…

There you go again, Max thought with satisfaction. Thinking like a king. The idea didn't seem so preposterous now that he'd aced his second test, the first being how to spring Michael from jail and close the case on Pierce's bones forever. This second test had been more intense, however, as he'd had to go it completely alone—Nasedo was dead, and there was no one to advise them. But when the vacuum created by his death had been filled by Michael's paranoia and Isabel's fear, he had risen to the occasion, pushed both aside, and responded with restraint and compassion. Valenti had contacted him the very next day with details about Brody's acquisition of the UFO Center which, had they waited, would have shed a great deal of light on the situation and further underscored that due diligence was good practice. The fact that his way of approaching the situation had been the right one had been accepted by Isabel and Michael with varying degrees of grace; Isabel was grateful she'd been prevented from killing a total stranger, while Michael was predictably sulking, ostensibly over that energy shield he hadn't bothered to tell them about, but really over the whole incident. Tough shit, Max thought firmly. There was a reason he was king and not the headstrong Michael or the shaky Isabel. He had the temperament for it, the ability to see the bigger picture, and the means to manage the others' disappointment when they didn't get what they wanted or fell short of their own expectations. For Michael, that meant letting him stew for a while until he was ready to talk about it. For Isabel, that meant giving her something to take her mind off their near miss.

That also meant getting up early on a Sunday morning. Thirty minutes later, Max left his mother with the dishes at her behest and headed to the Crashdown, and the most immediate reason he was in such a good mood—planning this party for Isabel had given him the perfect excuse to talk to Liz. If Isabel didn't need this distraction so badly, he would have happily waited until her actual birthday and spent the next several weeks in the planning stages if it meant he had a neutral way to approach Liz. He was kind of sorry it would be over tonight and musing on ways to extend it when he arrived at the diner, now bustling with patrons out for Sunday breakfast.

"There's the partymeister!" Maria exclaimed when she saw him. "Hey, Liz—Max is here."

Max's heart melted when Liz smiled and hurried to join them at the end of the counter, a marked departure from their recent encounters. "We're all set," Liz assured him. "Dad says the place is ours starting at 7 p.m. We've got food, drinks—"

"And cake," Maria added. "Michael said he'd make it."

Max glanced beyond her to the window, where Michael was eyeing him warily. "I want to thank your Dad again for letting us do this," Max said to Liz. "It was really nice of him to donate the Crashdown for my sister's birthday."

"Well, he's only donating the space," Liz noted. "You're paying for the food. But it's no big deal because Sunday nights are dead here. Dad said he'd make more from the party than he would from just being open."

Courtney walked by. "Hi, Max."

"Don't you have orders to deliver?" Maria said tartly before Max could answer.

Courtney shrugged and walked off. "Why are you so down on her?" Liz said. "She's seems perfectly normal."

"She's after Michael," Maria said flatly. "Don't ask me how I know. A dead person would know."

"Michael's made it pretty clear he's not interested, so I wouldn't worry about it," Liz said.

"Oh, but I do," Maria assured her.

"Can we get back to the party?" Max said.

"Let's," Maria agreed. "Alex is all set. He picked up his costume today, and I must say, he looks hot as a cop."

Liz blinked. "What?"

"So he's actually going to do it?" Max said.

"You bet he is," Maria assured him. "We spent all day yesterday practicing the moves…" She made two fists and circled her arms in front of her as Liz watched in alarm "...over and over. This'll be one party Isabel will never forget."

"Maria, what on earth are you talking about?" Liz demanded.

"Oops—table 3 is calling!" Maria said. "Back in a sec."

"Max, what is going on?" Liz said as she scurried off. "Why does Alex need a cop costume, and practice, and...whatever she was just doing."

Max rubbed an eyebrow. "Uh...Maria arranged a surprise for Isabel's party."

"A 'surprise'?" Liz repeated. "Involving Alex? Okay, this is not good."

"Alex agreed to do it," Max shrugged.

"Alex is a sweetheart," Liz said, "which means sometimes he gets taken advantage of. What does she have him doing?"

"Well, it's a...a striptease. Sort of," he amended hastily when Liz's eyes widened. "Not all the way down, of course. You can't get naked in a public place. Not that he ever would," he added when her eyes widened further. "It's just a bit of fun. That's all."

"That's all?" Liz echoed. "That's all? Do you mean to tell me that Alex, Alex, is going to put on a cop costume and then strip it off in front of all the party guests?"

"Well...yeah," Max admitted. "That's the general idea."

"Oh. My. God.," Liz said faintly. "You've lost your minds. You've all lost your minds!"

"I think the idea is that Alex likes Isabel, and Isabel likes Alex, and it would be nice if they, you know, got...together," Max said.

"Together," Liz repeated. "As in 'together' together? Isn't that up to Isabel and Alex?"

"Sure," Max said. "But Isabel dates quite a bit, and there's always the risk that something will slip...and it would be better if it slips with someone who knows."

"Uh huh," Liz said slowly. "Better for you, you mean."

"Better for all of us," Max said firmly, "Isabel included."

Liz gazed at him for a moment in silence before shaking her head. "Look, I know Alex likes Isabel...believe me, I know that...but I think Isabel's made it pretty clear that she's not into him that way. And I don't think a striptease is going to change that, or that you should be getting involved in who she likes or doesn't like. That's her business."

"Of course it is," Max said, irritation lacing his voice. "This wasn't my idea, it was Maria's, and Alex agreed to it. It's just a silly party thing. Don't make it into something bigger than it is."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't if you hadn't just been going on about how you want your sister to date the 'right' kind of guy," Liz said.

"I was just saying it would be convenient," Max said. "Obviously it's up to them. It's just that sometimes, Isabel needs...guidance."

" 'Guidance'," Liz echoed doubtfully.

"Yeah, you know...she doesn't think things through," Max said. "She goes by what she's feeling, not what's rational."

"Like when you healed me," Liz said.

"No!" Max protested. "Not like that."

"In broad daylight, in a crowded diner," Liz went on. "Because that was, like, totally rational."

Max stared at her for a moment in consternation. "How did we get from Isabel's birthday party to my healing you being irrational?"

"I didn't say...well, yeah, I guess I kinda did," Liz admitted. "Okay, it's none of my business, so I'm staying out of it. And if Alex wants to...perform...that's his business. Everything's set on my end, so the only thing left is the cake. Hey, Michael," she called, "can you give us a cake update?"

Michael's face appeared in the passthrough, gazed at them for a moment, then disappeared. "Oh...okay," Liz said awkwardly. "That was weird."

"Problem?"

It was Courtney, back from delivering orders. "Oh...um...Michael's making the cake for Isabel's birthday party," Liz said.

"Sweet," Courtney said. "But…?"

"But he's not talking to me," Max said. "He's mad at me."

Courtney smiled faintly. "What is it this time?"

"Same thing it usually is," Max answered. "I was right, and he was wrong."

"Some things never change," Courtney remarked. "I'll talk to him. Be right back."

Max looked at Liz, who shrugged. "Why does she sound like she knows us when she doesn't?"

"Doesn't she?" Liz said. "You don't have to spend much time here to figure out that dynamic."

Maria reappeared. "What is she doing back there?" she demanded, spying Courtney in the kitchen.

"Maria! Chill!" Liz ordered. "She works here. Happy subject—do you think Isabel knows about her party?"

"What? No!" Maria exclaimed, momentarily distracted from her competition. "Max made it very clear he'd hang anyone who spilled. Metaphorically speaking," she added when Max started to protest. "Everyone was sworn to secrecy. She doesn't know, I'm sure of it. Alex is going to drop the bait this morning, and come tonight, she'll be well and truly surprised."

"Good," Max said. "I was afraid she'd be here now. Mom said she got up early to meet a friend."

"At this hour on a Sunday?" Maria said. "Must be some friend."





********************************************************





Saucer Motel





Isabel raised her hand to knock, then lowered it, doing one last quick check. Hair? Good. Sunglasses? Firmly on head. Cleavage? Covered, or mostly, anyway. Nerve? Failing, she decided, knocking quickly on the door before she changed her mind. There was a brief pause before it opened.

"Hi, Grant!" Isabel said brightly. "I'm sorry to just come over like this, but...I caught you at a bad time, didn't I?"

Clad in jeans and a tee shirt, Grant gaped at her for a moment, a towel over one shoulder and the remnants of shaving cream on his face. "Uh...no! No, of course not. I was just…"

"I...can come back later," Isabel stammered.

"No, that's okay," Grant said, hastily wiping his face. "I'll be out on the dig later."

"The dig?" Isabel said. "On a Sunday?"

"It's not Sunday for me," Grant said. "No weekends in archeology. But come on in; I've got a few minutes."

Isabel stepped gingerly into the room, feeling monumentally silly. Coming unannounced was a bad idea, but truthfully, she'd been afraid he'd refuse, and she was so frustrated by their failed attempts to see each other that she'd decided to take matters into her own hands. Now she stood there awkwardly, taking in the shabby decor, rumpled sheets, overflowing suitcase, and muddy pile of excavation equipment near the door. "Sorry," he said self consciously, pulling up the room's one chair for her to sit. "It's not exactly the Ritz, I know."

"Not sure we have a Ritz in Roswell. And besides, this has 'desert ambiance', Isabel added, reading a placard on the desk.

"Yeah, right," Grant said dryly. "Science doesn't pay much."

Isabel nodded sympathetically and fretted while the silence stretched between them. "I'm sorry I didn't call," she said in a rush, anxious to say something, anything. "I thought of this late last night, and I didn't want to wake you, but I...well...we've been missing every chance to connect, and I didn't want you to think I was blowing you off, or that I'd changed my mind about us seeing each other."

"Well, who could blame you?" Grant said. "For having second thoughts, I mean."

"I'm not having second thoughts," Isabel protested.

"Maybe not," Grant allowed. "But I imagine your parents wouldn't be too thrilled about you seeing a guy my age. If I had a daughter your age, I know I wouldn't be."

"I'm almost eighteen," Isabel protested. "They can't tell me what to do."

Grant shook his head. "I'm guessing 'almost' won't cut it with your father."

"My parents don't know about you," Isabel said, "and I'd like to keep it that way. But my birthday's next month if you'd rather wait until it's official."

"That might be best," Grant agreed. "If I'm still here, that is."

"You're...you're leaving?"

"I don't know," Grant answered, taking a seat on the bed across from her. "It depends on whether the company decides to keep funding me. I won't know until the middle of next month."

"So...we could make plans and have them all go up in smoke?"

Grant shrugged. "It's the life of an academic, I'm afraid. Not very romantic, I know."

"Then we're not waiting," Isabel declared. "I'm not going to miss a chance to get to know you just because I'm a few days shy of legal. I mean, what is age, anyway? It's just an arbitrary date on the calendar, a number we attach significance to whether it deserves it or not."

"I'm guessing my age and yours would be pretty significant to a lot of people," Grant said.

"Then a lot of people are wrong," Isabel said firmly. "I know better than most that you can't judge a book by its cover. And I also know that life can change on a dime, can turn on you in an instant, so we have to grab what happiness we can when we have the chance because we may never get that chance again."

She stopped, suddenly self-conscious as Grant stared at her. "Wow," he said softly. "I know the kind of life experiences you have to have in order to make a statement like that with that kind of conviction." He paused. "I'm sorry."

Isabel gave him a brittle smile, resisting a sudden urge to pour out her problems to a complete stranger, a bad idea on so many levels, but especially because it would ruin the one thing which made Grant special—he didn't "know". "Don't be," she said. "Because that's what makes me so certain we shouldn't wait for some arbitrary date on a calendar. What say we celebrate my birthday a bit early? Say, tonight, after you get back from the dig?"

"That's not giving me much time to get you a present," Grant said.

"I don't need a present," Isabel said. "Just finally getting together will make a wonderful present."

"And here I thought you'd be hard to buy for," Grant teased.

"Oh, I am," Isabel assured him. "If we get to the point where you're buying, I promise you I'll be properly high maintenance."

"All right, then," Grant smiled. "It's a date."

Isabel's phone rang. She checked the caller ID to make sure it wasn't Max or Michael before excusing herself to answer it. "Good news!" she said when she hung up. "My friend is returning a book I loaned him, and he wants to give it to me at the Crashdown tonight. That'll be the perfect place for us to meet."

"Isn't that kind of public?" Grant said doubtfully.

"It's perfect," Isabel assured him. "No one goes there on a Sunday night."





*********************************************************





Crashdown Cafe





"Got a minute?"

Courtney waited, but Rath didn't bother turning around. "What?" he said curtly.

"I hear you're making the cake for Isabel's birthday party," Courtney said. "Liz wants to know how that's coming along."

"You mean Max wants to know," Rath corrected.

"Actually, it was Liz who asked," Courtney noted, "and who you just blew off. But since Max is planning the party, is it such a bad thing for him to be interested in the cake too?"

"Liz, Max," Rath said dismissively. "They're one and the same. Interchangeable."

"Not to hear her tell it," Courtney said. "Or him. Aren't you always the one yanking his chain for complaining that Liz left him? And since the answer to that is 'yes', how exactly do you lump them together when neither of them agree?"

"What, are you Oprah?" Rath retorted. "Tell Max to take a hike."

Tell him yourself, Courtney thought darkly. She already had her hands full with a dead Warder, a murderous live one, a missing Larak, and a newborn, fragile peace treaty about to succumb to infant mortality. She'd practically dissected the drywall in Nasedo's house with no sign of the box or the Granolith key, so she had no leverage over Brivari when he returned, which he would any day now. Vanessa had not heeded her advice to hit the road, and Larak had not yet reappeared, which meant the fate of Antar's first real shot at peace rested in her hands. To say she had little patience for temper tantrums about cakes was something of an understatement, and to have said tantrum coming from one she considered Antar's best hope made things even worse.

"Cough it up, Guerin," Courtney ordered. "What's with the frostbite?"

"None of your business," Rath said.

"Bullshit," Courtney said firmly. "If you're making me into a messenger boy for your spat with Max, you just made it my business. Spill."

Rath's eyes raked her up and down. "Messenger 'boy'? I'm pretty sure you're a girl."

Courtney's eyebrows rose. "Oh? What makes you so sure?"

Rath scanned her again, just her upper half this time. "Couple of things."

Courtney smiled faintly. "You can count. I like that in a man. Now get to the spilling part."

Rath said nothing. "Fine," Courtney said briskly. "I'll tell them you're not making the cake."

"Wait...what?"

"Well, you're not talking, and Isabel needs a cake, so—"

"I never said I wouldn't make it," Rath protested.

"No, you didn't say anything at all," Courtney said crossly. "And I have better things to do than stand around while you pout. Read my lips—no talking, no cake. I don't have time for this."

"Why?" Rath demanded. "What's on your to-do list today? Saving the world?"

"Actually, yes," Courtney shot back. "And your ass, his ass, and all our collective asses. So excuse me if I'm too busy to put up with the latest dust-up over girlfriends or glucose. Command decision—you lost the job. I'll make the cake. Sorry I interrupted your snit fit."

"It's not a 'snit fit', and I'm making the cake," Rath said flatly.

"Of course it's a snit fit, and you just lost your chance," Courtney retorted.

"Like hell I did," Rath declared. "You don't even know what this is about!"

"Because you won't tell me what it's about!" Courtney exclaimed. "Which leaves me to draw my own conclusions, so...the conclusion I've drawn is that you're throwing a tantrum over a cake for a party we're holding tonight. Tonight. No cake, no party, so get with the program, or get lost!"

"For Christ's sake, this has nothing to do with the goddamned cake!" Rath shouted.

They stopped, both silent, both glaring...until Rath dropped his eyes and turned his back to her again. "It's not about the cake," he said quietly. "It's about the fact that I almost screwed up in a really big way, and...Max stopped me. And that bites."

"How big is 'big', exactly?" Courtney asked.

"Life or death," Rath answered. "Yeah—that big."

He's serious, Courtney realized. Jesus H. Christ, what had the hybrids been up to this time? Whatever it was, it had left Zan with what looked suspiciously like a swagger while Rath's hunched shoulders looked suspiciously like guilt. "I want to make Isabel's cake," Rath went on. "I can't do much for her, but this is something I can do. She deserves a night where she doesn't have to...where she can just enjoy herself," he amended. "There's been a lot of crap lately."

More than even I know of, Courtney thought, and she knew of plenty. The King and his Second were famous for their arguments, with Rath leaning toward the harsh and impulsive side of things while Zan was known for thoughtful deliberation and more measured responses, but both could be high-handed jackasses. And did she detect some feelings for Vilandra in there? That marriage had been Zan's idea, but Rath had gone along with it, and why not? Zan was his king, and Vilandra was easy on the eyes, even if it was an ill-fitting match. One of the few goods things which had come out of Antar's fall was the end of that crappy union.

"Michael?"

Rath turned around. Zan had appeared in the doorway, his eyes hard. "Liz asked you a question," Zan said in a deadly calm voice. "I'd like an answer."

"Yeah, I bet you would," Rath muttered.

Zan's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

The imperiousness of his tone set Courtney's teeth on edge; whatever Zan had been right about, he was currently rubbing Rath's nose in it. "He said it's all good," she broke in before Rath could dig himself in even deeper. "The cake, I mean. Everything's set. All systems go."

Zan looked at her suspiciously. "Oh, is that what he said? Because I heard something different."

"Then you heard wrong," Courtney said deliberately. "Either that, or you're just looking for trouble."

The ensuing silence was so profound, it eclipsed the fact that it wasn't really silent, even the chunk of the knife Rath was using to slice vegetables and the whirr of the dishwasher receding before the tension separating the two most powerful men on Antar. The ball was in Zan's court, and he looked back and forth from her to Rath as though sensing a conspiracy.

"So you're all set?" Zan said finally.

"Yeah," Rath answered. "All set."

"Good," Zan said. "Too bad you couldn't have just said that." His eyes fastened on Courtney as he left. "Liz says you're working the party. See you there."

"Hope you're in a better mood by then," Courtney said. "It'll be one bust of a party if the MC is all grumpy."

The corners of Rath's mouth twitched as Zan raised an eyebrow. Courtney held his gaze until he left the room without bothering to challenge her further.

"What the hell was that?" Rath said.

"Why?" Courtney said. "You don't like me yanking his chain?"

"Yank away. But weren't you just yanking mine?"

"Maybe I like to yank," Courtney shrugged.

Rath's eyes narrowed. "Cough it up, Banks. When did you suddenly land on my side?"

"When I got it," Courtney answered.

Rath eyed her skeptically. "You 'got it'? What do you think you 'get'?"

"Just this," Courtney said. "There are basically two types of people in the world—people who get all the breaks, and people who can't seem to catch one. And when one of those golden boys who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter is right about something, it sucks. It's unfair. It makes you think that, maybe, just maybe, if we got even a few of those breaks, we could have made better decisions too."

Rath stared at her for a moment in silence. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "That's pretty much it."

"Told you I got it. Good luck with the cake." Courtney slid off the counter and was halfway to the door when his voice stopped her.

"You know, you're hot when you're mad."

Courtney smiled. "Right back atcha, Mikey G."

"What's going on back here?" a voice demanded.

It was Maria, bristling with suspicion. "Looks like you're huffing and puffing and blowing the house down," Courtney answered. "What else is new?"

Maria's eyes narrowed "Why, you little—"

"Not interested," Courtney interrupted. "I'm officially sick of your whining."

"Ditto," Rath muttered.

Courtney left Maria gaping and fuming and headed back into the diner. Maria was getting on her last nerve, all the drama about her lost boyfriend grating beside the very real and pressing trouble on Antar. She'd been useful at keeping them alive on Earth, but perhaps she'd outlived that usefulness. If Brivari rejected the treaty, which she was all but certain he would, their only remaining options would be any support Larak could muster, the king himself...and his Second. Actually, maybe she should reverse those two. His Second would likely show more interest in preserving their planet than the king.

Her phone rang. Pulling it out of her pocket, Courtney looked at the screen in horror before frantically dialing, reading and re-reading the four words on the screen.

On my way back.

The call went to voicemail. "Brivari, listen to me," Courtney said tersely. "When you come back, come to me or Dee first before you go after Vanessa or do anything else. Jaddo, he...he set some things in motion," she stammered, trying not to give away too much, "things we didn't know about until after he died and after you left. You should know what he was trying to do before you make any decisions about what to do next. Please, please come to me or Dee as soon as you get back. Even you admitted that sometimes he gets things right. This might be one of those times, so do it for him, if no one else."

She rung off, closing her eyes and pressing the phone to her chest. God, that had sounded lame, but she was desperate, and soon she wouldn't be the only one. Her hands shook as she dialed another number and it rang once, twice, three times, four. "C'mon, c'mon," she muttered impatiently as Vanessa's phone rang. "Pick up! Pick up!"





*********************************************************





Proctor residence





"More coffee?" Dee asked.

"Sure," Anthony replied, his nose in the morning paper, which was quite a pile given it was the enormous Sunday edition.

"I was thinking bacon and eggs for brunch," Dee said. "And toast. And hash browns. A real restaurant version."

"Going all out, eh?" Anthony smiled. "Sounds good. Need help?"

"Nope—I can spatter the kitchen with bacon grease all by myself."

Dee headed for the kitchen, actually looking forward to tussling with a pound of bacon. Secretly peeved that Brivari hadn't contacted her once during his absence, she was also secretly enjoying the quiet. No squabbling Warders and no immediate enemies meant a peace rarely achieved in these parts...but the moment she thought that, she would feel guilty because that peace had come at the cost of the Jaddo's life. Just enjoy it, Anthony had said, as the silver lining in a cloud no one had wanted. And so she was prepared to spend her Sunday morning making a good old fashioned American breakfast and looking forward to Isabel's surprise birthday party tonight, all while ignoring the fact that she and Courtney hadn't managed to find Brivari's missing box, or missing key, or whatever he was after, and that Antar's first ever peace treaty hung by a thread. That would all be there long after she'd cleaned the bacon grease off the counter…

Dee stopped at the kitchen doorway. There was a fresh pot of coffee steaming away, one she hadn't made...and one being sampled by someone with his back to her, looking out the kitchen window.

"Hope you don't mind," Brivari said. "You were all out."

Dee didn't answer because she couldn't think of anything to say, a rarity for her. You're back, seemed obvious. So sorry for your loss, seemed inadequate. Why the hell didn't you keep me in the loop? seemed petty. At times like these, silence was best.

"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you're still living in this house?" Brivari went on. "You, your mother, your father, were our 'first contact'. You set the tone for what humans could be. It was a high bar few others have ever reached."

Dee remained absolutely still, not certain where he was going with this. Nostalgia was to be expected when someone close to you died, but what happened when that someone was quite literally the only one like you on the planet? "I must have looked out this window a million times since then," Brivari went on, "and drunk coffee in this kitchen more than that. It's the only beverage that even comes close to our jero. I miss that sometimes, which is odd given that I can't taste either."

He turned finally, and Dee studied him carefully. He looked normal, but still…

"I am given to understand that Jaddo 'set things in motion' before he died, to use Courtney's wording. Is this true?"

Dee's mouth felt like cotton. "Yes."

"Hmm," Brivari murmured. "She directed me to either her or you for details. I am here because I trust you more."

He stopped, waiting, and Dee's heart sank. Seriously? It fell to her to plead Antar's case to the King's Warder? She'd rather plead it to the King, even if that did mean admitting to her grandson that his grandmother had known about him all along. Still, Jaddo had entrusted her with the terms of the treaty, and with Courtney and Larak concerned about being seen as treasonous, perhaps this was for the best. She was not Antarian and thus could not be accused of treason; if he wanted to accuse Jaddo of treason, that ship had sailed.

"If you would prefer, I can go to Courtney and—"

"No," Dee broke in. "I was just about to make breakfast. Why don't you join us?"

"I didn't come here for—"

"Have a seat, Brivari," Dee said firmly. "You're going to need it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 32 on Sunday, June 21.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!







CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO




September 17, 2000, 12:30 p.m.

Congresswoman Whitaker's office






The key scraped in the lock as Vanessa unlocked the door to her office and looked hopefully at the phone on Rose's desk, but there was nothing—no blinking light, no messages. Locking the door behind her, she sank into Rose's chair and pulled out her cell, but there were no messages there either. Rose was taking today off, and Parker wouldn't be in till later, making for a few precious hours to decide what to do now that her self-imposed deadline had come and gone.


He's dead, Vanessa. He's been dead for several days now.


A weary and completely incongruent chuckle escaped, borne of the irony that Jaddo being dead was something she'd simply never considered. It was still possible that Jaddo had ditched her, that he held his being captured against her or had just reneged on the treaty altogether, but it was looking more and more like he hadn't been around to do either. It was incredible, really...what were the odds? Yes, he'd been compromised when he'd left her hotel room that night, but a Royal Warder in a weakened state still trumped most sentient life forms at their best. A single Argilian operative was no match for a Warder, so how had one of the cretins Nicholas had sent managed to pull off not only an accidental capture, but an assassination? What kind of spectacularly bad luck did one have to attract to have the single, notoriously-hard-to-kill liaison from the enemy's ranks wind up dead at the worst possible moment? And just how bassakwards did the world have to be to find her actually regretting the death of a Royal Warder? The question now was how to best salvage this situation. Much as it pained her to admit it, Courtney was right—the proposed treaty must be given every possible chance, and in order to do that, she needed to leave town before Brivari returned. She had no intention, however, of leaving without leverage in her pocket. She had to have something to show for her time here, something to protect her from the hurricane winds that were about to blow from all directions. All of this was for naught if she went down with the ship.

First things first, Vanessa sighed, picking up her phone. She'd spent the last two days painstakingly mapping the required chain of events. This was the first link, and would likely be the hardest. Jaddo and Daniel may be dead, but both could still help the cause. Kicking off her shoes, she settled back in her chair, mentally reviewed the story she'd constructed, and braced herself for the worst.

"What?" Nicholas's suspicious voice said.

"Good morning to you, too," Vanessa said dryly.

"It's lunch time, and you never call me. Ever."

"Not unless I have news," Vanessa noted. She paused. "Daniel found me. I was right. They got to him."

"Who got to him?" Nicholas demanded.

"The Royals. The Warders. That's why he's been so odd recently. They…" Vanessa paused again for dramatic effect. "They want to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Nicholas asked sharply.

"The kind where we all get to go home."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a flurry of muttering just out of earshot. Vanessa waited, mentally going over the story again. It was a simple lie, as all good lies must be, and as for the treaty itself, that was the truth. Still, she seriously doubted she'd be going into much detail. Nicholas wouldn't get that far.

"Let me get this straight," Nicholas's scornful voice said. "The Royals are trying to make a deal, and they're using your human boyfriend as the messenger boy? How fucked up is that? Seriously, that is completely fucked up," he added, to guffaws from someone nearby, probably Greer.

"Daniel has relayed the terms of a treaty," Vanessa went on. "Terms that will bring peace to the five planets and allow us to return home. It's worth considering."

"Oh, sure it is," Nicholas said sarcastically. "And who exactly does this come from?"

"Rath," Vanessa answered.

A sharper intake of breath this time, followed by darker muttering. This was a judicious rewrite of the facts meant to yank Nicholas' chain; he'd killed Rath himself, so to have Rath reborn and proposing treaties would piss him off. "So Danny Boy actually met Rath?" Nicholas said. "Why didn't he grab him? Isn't he supposed to be this big alien hunter?"

"Of course he didn't meet Rath," Vanessa said. "The terms were sent with Rath's Warder. He's nowhere near a big enough alien hunter to be a match for a Royal Warder."

There was a strangled sound of fury. "Jaddo," Nicholas said darkly. "It's a wonder Danny made it out alive."

"Yes, well, it doesn't make sense to shoot the messenger," Vanessa said mildly, "at least until the messenger has delivered the message."

"Right," Nicholas said sourly. "And does this 'treaty' leave Khivar on the throne?"

"Of course not. There will be no peace with either Khivar or Zan on the throne. We both know that, and so do they."

"No deal," Nicholas declared. "Tell them to get lost."

"It's not up to either of us to tell them anything," Vanessa said. "The proposition is for Khivar. As Khivar's Second, you have a duty to deliver it, and it is his—and only his—prerogative to respond."

"So you want me to take a so-called treaty which is being sent from the Royals through your inflatable action doll and deliver it to Khivar?" Nicholas said in astonishment. "A 'treaty' which knocks him off the throne? Are you nuts? No deal! Send Danny Boy back to Jaddo with that answer and see how long he lives."

"As I already noted," Vanessa said in a steely tone, "it's not for you or me to give them an answer. We are soldiers in the service of Khivar. Our duty is to deliver the terms and accept his judgment."

"Don't you tell me what my 'duty' is," Nicholas said hotly.

"Apparently I have to, because apparently you've forgotten," Vanessa retorted. "I repeat—your duty is to deliver the proposed armistice to Khivar. Along with your opinion of it, I'm sure, but deliver it nonetheless."

"Go to hell," Nicholas declared.

"Is that an official refusal?"

"Vanessa," Nicholas said warningly, "what are you up to?"

Vanessa's hand gripped the phone tighter. "Just this—if you won't deliver the treaty to Khivar, I'll go over your head and do it for you. And I'll be sure to let him know why it's coming from me instead of you."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Nicholas demanded. "Do you really think I'll let anything from your communicator get through now?"

"Do you really think you're the only one who can communicate with home?"

Vanessa held the phone away from her ear as a torrent of profanity flew over the line, followed by angry shouting from both Nicholas and those listening. This had been the hardest decision to make, whether to put her reputation and her very life on the line for the sake of this treaty. Having challenged Nicholas, she could never again return to Copper Summit. Now she would have to rely on the Resistance to convey the terms to Khivar and make certain she produced an offering which would make him listen to her.

"I'll give you 24 hours," Vanessa said. "If you haven't notified Khivar of the treaty by then, he'll hear it from me first, along with news of your insubordination. Considering how pissed he already is with you, I'm guessing that won't go over too well." She paused. "Goodbye, Nicholas."

Nicholas was literally screaming as she rung off, and the sudden silence in the office was jarring. She set the phone down with shaking hands only to jump when it rang.

"What in the name of God are you still doing here?" Courtney demanded. "Brivari is on his way back, and if you're here when he gets here, you're dead. Do you hear me? Dead."

Completely drained by her clash with Nicholas and struck by the incongruity of it all, Vanessa burst out laughing. "What?" Courtney said irritably. "Did I say something funny?"

"You certainly did," Vanessa said, wiping tears from her husk. "I just told Nicholas about the treaty."

There was a long, startled pause. "You...you did?"

"I spun it that Daniel had been contacted by Jaddo," Vanessa went on, "and instructed to bring the terms to Khivar."

"But...they're both dead," Courtney said.

"Small detail," Vanessa said dismissively. "Doesn't mean they both can't still stump for the cause. Anyway, I told Nicholas that if he didn't bring it to Khivar, I would. So I'm kind of dead anyway, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Courtney said soberly, "I do. But that means...you can't…"

"I can't go back," Vanessa finished. "I know that. Can you get a message to Khivar?"

"Uh...sure," Courtney said. "But—"

"Good. I gave Nicholas 24 hours to do it himself, but he won't," Vanessa said. "We both knew that."

"Okay," Courtney said faintly. "I'll send word, but...Jesus, Vanessa, what are you going to do? Where are you going to go?"

"Well," Vanessa said in a brittle voice, "I imagine 'Congresswoman Whitaker' will have to disappear. I'd be something of a sitting duck in a national office.

"You need to disappear today," Courtney said. "Brivari said he's on his way back, and I doubt he'll be in a chatty mood when he gets here."

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this," Vanessa said slowly, "but right now, I'd take my chances with Brivari over Nicholas any day."

"Maybe," Courtney allowed, "but if I were you, I wouldn't take my chances with either. Get out of here. I'll see to it that the terms are delivered. I wish I could offer you a place to hide, but..."

"But if you brought me to the Resistance, they'd kill me," Vanessa finished.

"You need to live," Courtney said. "You're one of the authors of that treaty. No one will ever believe it if both of you are dead."

"Don't worry about me," Vanessa said. "I've already got my plane ticket, a pseudonym, the works. I'm a survivor...just like you. Remember, 24 hours."

"Got it," Courtney promised. She paused. "I never saw you as the selfless type, Vanessa. I never saw you sacrificing yourself for Antar."

"Let's not get all misty-eyed," Vanessa said. "Twenty-four hours. No more, no less."

Vanessa rung off and tossed the phone on her desk. She was homeless now; she'd just effectively killed Vanessa Whitaker, a persona she could never use again because Nicholas would be looking for her. She may have killed herself also, having cut herself off from Copper Summit and any chance at a new husk. But there was no guarantee that the harvest would have arrived in time for her anyway; just this week, they'd lost a dozen soldiers to dying husks. No, her best bet now was to push this forward as hard as she could in the hope of a quick resolution and to stack the deck in her favor. The ever chatty Liz Parker had inadvertently helped with the details, so all that remained was to decide which one it would be. Should she flip a coin? Do eenie meenie minie moe? Neither, she decided when a car pulled up across the street and a familiar blonde climbed out. She'd just take the one who showed up first, and conveniently alone.

Vanessa smiled as the pulled on her coat. I never saw you as the selfless type. That would be because she wasn't. She'd have her pound of flesh before she boarded that plane tonight if it was the last thing she did.





**********************************************************





Pod Chamber






The pod chamber's door rumbled open like it had so many times before, and Brivari stood in the doorway, unwilling to go inside. He'd been perfectly happy to pursue Jaddo's killer because it had delayed this moment, postponed his need to face his worst fear save his Ward's death. Even that he had lived through and seen him resurrected, but a boon like that could only happen once. There would be no resurrection this time.

We can't afford to lose anyone else, Jaddo, not hybrids, not Warders.

Reluctantly, Brivari stepped inside, triggering the low light he and Valeris had chuckled over all those years ago when they had retrofitted this former experimentation chamber to house the pods and the Granolith. There had been four of them then and hundreds of hybrids; it seemed a lifetime ago now, further away even than the fall. He could remember home clearly, but some of the details of their early days on this planet had slipped away. How odd then, that they should come crashing back now, and how appropriate given that he was the only one left to remember. How timid Urza had been, how scared of Jaddo, and yet how well he knew just exactly how to push his buttons. How Valeris could bring any of them to heel. How a young human child had stumbled across their ship, later sharing her secret with her parents and a friend who would become her husband, four stalwart allies without whom none of them would have survived.

In just a few years we'll be bringing them home, and it will take both of us to accomplish that.

Slowly, Brivari moved into the chamber. Dee had seen the hybrids carry Jaddo's body inside, but not back out, and the reason why was all too clear. The dust lay in a vaguely body-shaped pile on the floor, likely undisturbed since its formation. Now he sank down beside it, shaking his head, stirring the dust with a fingertip.

"I warned you," he whispered, "over and over. I told you it would come to this. I've been right more times than I could count. That alone should have caught your attention...but nothing ever did. You just wouldn't listen, would you?

Would you?!"

The shout echoed around the chamber, punctuated by the handful of dust he flung at a far wall in a fit of rage so primal, it felt almost...human. He was alone now, utterly alone, and solely responsible for shepherding four wayward hybrids to a throne none of them wanted on a world none of them remembered. He'd already had a taste of what it looked like to fly solo when Jaddo had died during Zan's rescue. If their task had been daunting before, it was now downright impossible.

"Brivari?"

Still hunched on the floor, Brivari raised his head. Dee stood in the chamber doorway, silhouetted by the sun behind her. "Sorry it took awhile," she said, stepping gingerly inside. "I don't climb as well as I did when I was 8. Anthony stayed with the car. He was afraid three would be a crowd." She paused, taking in the pile of dust. "Are you okay?"

"No," Brivari said harshly, "No, I am not okay. Idiot!" he said savagely, rocking back on his haunches. "How many times did I tell him it would come to this? How many?"

"Many," Dee said quietly. "But for what it's worth, it sounds like it was all one spectacular accident. You said even the one who killed him admitted that."

"This was no accident," Brivari said bitterly. "He impersonated Pierce masterfully, dismantled the Special Unit like a pro...but he just couldn't let it go at that. He had to rub her face in it, which is what brought her here, and then he tried to bargain with her? What in the name of all that's holy was he thinking?"

"Well," Dee said, "I think he was thinking—"

"It was a rhetorical question," Brivari said sharply.

Dee's eyes narrowed. "I was the last of us to see him before he died and the one he told the details of that bargain, so no, it's most definitely not a rhetorical question. I know better than anyone what he was thinking because he told me"

"Oh, right," Brivari said sarcastically. "He told you, but not me."

"Because he knew you would shoot it down before he had a chance to finish a single sentence," Dee said. "He wanted my help convincing you to give it a serious look, and he was taking the idea for a test drive—if he couldn't sell it to me, how could he ever hope to sell it to you?"

"No offense, but you're not exactly well versed about the political situation on Antar," Brivari said.

"No offense, but you're not exactly well versed in who your precious hybrids have become in this lifetime," Dee retorted, "or how they're likely to react to the notion of going home. He sought my advice because he knows I know the people they are now. It was an unusual move for him, for either of you, to acknowledge that who they were and who they are now are not one and the same. I never thought I'd see the day when he got that before you did, but here we are. Go figure."

"He brokered a deal which denies my Ward his throne!" Brivari said furiously.

"He was accepting the fact that Max might never want that throne back!" Dee exclaimed. "Not to mention that avoiding war meant neither Max nor Khivar could have the throne. Someone else needs to take the reins, or this won't work."

"And of course that someone was Rath," Brivari said bitterly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"As regent," Dee said patiently. "Regent, and only until Max has children. At which time his firstborn becomes monarch, with his parents as regents."

" 'If'," Brivari corrected. "If Zan has children, and if they ultimately agree to take the throne. If he doesn't or they don't, Rath becomes king."

"Yes, there was a contingency plan," Dee said, "which only makes sense given the circumstances. What did you want, for the throne to revert to Khivar? That was apparently Vanessa's suggestion. This way the dynasty you helped create could continue, and pretty much the way it would have anyway, with a child of Zan on the throne. It just got a bit muddy in the middle."

"A 'bit' muddy?" Brivari said incredulously. "Is that how you think Vilandra will see it?"

Dee let go a heavy sigh, and joined him on the floor. "Yeesh," she muttered, sliding gingerly down to the floor. "Time was when I sat for hours on the floor. Now I have a hard time getting down, never mind up." She paused. "The part about Isabel was the part I had the most trouble with. According to Jaddo, it was the flashpoint—Khivar was supposedly in love with her, after all, but the fact remains that he lied to her about his intentions. Vanessa insisted that he never meant to kill Zan, that that had been Nicholas's doing, and that Nicholas has been and still was being punished for it, although anyone with working brain cells knows what would have happened to her brother even if he hadn't been assassinated on the spot. But in the end, I had to agree Jaddo had done his best for her, or as much as he could have under the circumstances, something I didn't expect given how much he hated her. He still preserved her freedom to make her own decision, it was just...postponed."

"Yes, after she listens to Khivar tell his side of the story," Brivari said sourly. "I'm sure he'll stretch that out as long as he can."

"Big deal," Dee said. "So she listens to a blowhard tell a fairy tale. After that she can do anything she likes, including return to Earth. I didn't like it either, but it seemed a small price to pay for peace."

"I sincerely doubt she'll see it that way," Brivari said, "and I can promise you her brother won't."

"Probably not," Dee admitted. "But you have to remember, this was just the first draft. It was always going to be a process, and it had to start somewhere. Jaddo wasn't stupid enough to believe he'd come up with the final version right off the bat; he just needed to come up with something that would get the party started. He knew you and Nicholas would hate it on sight, but he was counting on the support of your sister planets to twist your arms and make you keep trying."

"Oh, they'd support it," Brivari said darkly. "They live in a war zone. They'll support anything which brings that to an end."

"A point I recently made," Dee said, "and who can blame them? I don't live in a war zone. I'm not in a position to judge."

"Well, I am," Brivari declared. "This is totally unacceptable. Anything which deprives the king of his rightful throne is totally unacceptable."

"Then he'll have to wage war to get it back," Dee said.

"The people will support him," Brivari insisted. "They won't support Khivar, but they'll support their true king."

"Maybe," Dee allowed. "But will Max be willing to do that? Because the odds are good he won't. Jaddo wasn't trying to take anything away from him, Brivari; he was just reading the handwriting on the wall. He was trying to see it from Max's point of view. Isn't that what you've always been banging on him to do? And now that he has, you're still not happy?"

"No, I'm not happy!" Brivari exclaimed furiously. "I'm not happy that he ignored me and got himself killed! I'm not happy that I've been saddled with some grand bargain he was making with the enemy! I'm not happy that I've been left to herd cats! I'm not happy that someone killed him when I'm am the only one who gets to kill him!"

"By all means, then, let's bring him back so you can finish him off yourself," Dee said dryly.

They sat in silence for a moment, cheerful sunshine streaming in the doorway, belying the scene on the floor inside. "Let's get this over with," Brivari said finally.

"Don't take it all," Dee warned. "The kids will notice. No point in making them think the safest place on Earth has been breached."

A few minutes later, they stood outside the pod chamber and let a handful of Jaddo's dust fly in the wind. "Perhaps we should have waited for Courtney," Dee said.

"Why? She hated him," Brivari said.

"So did you," Dee pointed out. "But she understood his value. And so did you."

"For all the good it did me," Brivari whispered.

The last few particles of dust danced in the breeze before Dee spoke again.

"What are you going to do about Vanessa?"





*********************************************************





Tess came to slowly, layers of darkness replaced by a throbbing pain in her temple. There was something over her head which let a bit of light through, but nothing else. Her shoulders ached, probably because her hands were tied behind her, her ankles weren't much happier for the same reason, and her powers seemed to be on the fritz. She was sitting on something hard, and she shifted this way and that, moving her head from side to side in a vain attempt to let just a little more light through as she struggled against her bonds.

"Finally," an impatient voice said. "I thought you'd never wake up."

Swoosh! Whatever was over her head was abruptly removed, sending her hair flying and eyes squinting. Where in blazes was she? How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was driving to get Isabel's birthday present not long after receiving a very odd phone call from that geologist who'd dug up Pierce's skeleton, wanting advice on what Isabel would like as a birthday present. Something in his tone had led her to suggest flowers, then instantly regret it as too personal. But he'd jumped at the suggestion, meaning this "Grant" was more than just a friend. She'd been musing on that when she'd left to get her own present for Isabel, but then things got hazy…

The light was growing less painful, her vision clearer. Blinking, Tess looked into the eyes of her smartly suited captor...and blinked again.

"I...know you. You're Whitaker, that politician Liz is working for."

"Good for you!" Whitaker exclaimed with false cheerfulness. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"What pleasure?" Tess said.

"Your name," Whitaker said, the fake smile gone. "Tell me your name."

Tess's head still hurt, but she was oriented now. She was tied to a metal chair in an industrial looking room with a plethora of dials and tanks while Whitaker hovered over her, all kitten heels and indignation. "You want my name? You...you ran me off the road," she said, remembering, "and you don't know my name? What, you just run random strangers off the road, tie them up, and ask for ID? I know everyone needs a hobby, but—"

Slap! Tess's head whipped right, a throbbing cheek joining her throbbing head. "Don't get lippy with me, young lady," Whitaker said sternly. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

"That makes two of us," Tess noted, gingerly moving her jaw.

Whitaker's eyes narrowed as she squatted in front of her. "Your name," she said firmly.

"You've got my purse over there, and from the looks of things, you've helped yourself," Tess said crossly. "My driver's license is in there. Can't you read? Isn't that a requirement for congress? Because it should be."

"Your license has your alias," Whitaker said. "You and I both know you're not 'Tess Harding'. I want your real name."

"Tess Harding is my real name," Tess retorted. "Look it up."

"Oh, I'm sure all the paperwork is in order," Whitaker said. "He would have made sure of that."

Tess's heart nearly stopped. He…did this mean what she thought it meant? Had someone finally tracked them down? "Let's cut to the chase," Whitaker said. "I know you're not human."

Tess struggled to maintain a neutral expression even as she was screaming inside. It was happening again—the Unit had found them, and this time it had come for her. Her first thought was that she was grateful it wasn't Max who'd been taken; he had only just recovered from his own abduction and definitely didn't need another. Her second thought was that it was good that she was the one who'd drawn the short straw; Isabel would have fallen apart, and Michael would have pissed everyone off so much, they'd never let him go. She'd trained for this her entire life; she had the best chance of getting out of it alive.

"So you're not really a congresswoman," Tess said. "That's just a front. You're with the Special Unit."

The decidedly uncongressional snort which served as answer wasn't the reaction Tess had been expecting. "The Unit? Don't you wish! Sweetheart, I'm not with the idiotic Unit. I'm way worse than that. You see," Whitaker said softly, "I know you're not human because I'm not human either."

"Oh, sure," Tess said scornfully. "Let me guess—you're a little green man from Mars? And you've got it in your head that I am too?"

"Hell, no," Whitaker said. "Our home is a lot further away than Mars."

Tess froze in her chair, a single, three-letter pronoun saying more than paragraphs. Our...and then she saw it, a patch of dry, scaly skin on the inside of Whitaker's wrist.

"Skin," Tess whispered.

"Very good," Whitaker said. "I see he's kept you informed. That will make this a whole lot easier."

Shit! Tess thought furiously, having given herself away with a single whisper. Granted, Whitaker already seemed to know the gist of it, but still...she should know better. "I'll ask you again," Whitaker was saying. "What's your name? Your real name, not the one he gave you."

"He didn't give me my name," Tess said. "I chose it."

"I don't care if you nicked it off a cereal box or a zoo animal," Whitaker said impatiently. "Your name."

"You killed him," Tess accused.

"I killed him? Well...I suppose it does look like that," Whitaker allowed. "And since I'm unlikely to convince you otherwise, why bother? But I digress...I need your name."

"I don't know it," Tess said.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, which one are you?" Whitaker said irritably.

"He never told me," Tess insisted. "I've always been 'Tess'."

Slap! This one hit the right cheek, resulting in a perfectly balanced sore jaw. "Tell me your name, or I'll beat it out of you," Whitaker said in exasperation. "Oh, go ahead, try it," she added when Tess attempted to marshall her powers. "I've made certain you can't pull anything. Of course that also means I can't pull anything, but then you don't seem like much to handle."

Tess followed her glance to a five-sided device sitting on a nearby table which sported a blinking light. That's what knocked Michael out, she realized, having not been happy to learn of that episode after the fact, although Max had claimed she'd already had enough to deal with what with Nasedo's death and moving in with the Valenti's. "I told you, I don't know my real name," she said. "Nasedo never told me. Go ahead, beat the shit out of me," she added when Whitaker raised a hand. "It won't help because I don't know it, but knock yourself out. Or me, if it blows your skirt up."

Whitaker's hand paused in mid-air, then lowered. " 'Nasedo'? That's an odd moniker. But you definitely have his mouth," she added with what sounded suspiciously like amusement. "And you have a point; it would have been safer if you didn't know. Let's try another angle—what's your job description? Are you the queen or the princess?"

Tess hesitated, weighing whether or not to answer that one. "The queen."

Whitaker's face fell, and she sank down into a chair across from her. "Well, shit. I had a fifty-fifty chance, so of course I grabbed the wrong girl. Just the way my day's been going."

Wow, Tess thought. That had backfired spectacularly. Here she thought being the queen might carry some weight, but apparently not. What did the Skins want with Isabel?

"So," Whitaker said sourly, "I got the runt of the litter. You aren't even royal—you just married into the family. How did you wind up with him? He's not your Warder."

Tess said nothing, having no intention of giving away anything else and having never heard the term "Warder". "Doesn't matter," Whitaker went on. "What does matter is that you make crappy leverage. Nobody back home gives a damn about you. You're the very definition of inconsequential." She leaned forward in her chair. "Where's the Granolith?"

"The...the what?"

"He must have told you where it is," Whitaker insisted. "Without him, I need a bone to throw the dogs."

Tess stared at her for a moment. "You were the one he was trying to make a deal with."

"Correction, sweetheart—I'm the one he did make a deal with," Whitaker said, "and if you're smart, a dubious proposition I know, you'll finish what he started. Where's the Granolith?"

"I don't even know what that is," Tess protested, "never mind where it is."

"Really? So there are no secret places only you and yours know about, that only you can access? Because that's where it would be. Think hard," Whitaker advised, looming over her, her face only inches away. "Make sure I like the answer."

The Pod Chamber. Tess kept her expression blank, easier now that she knew the score and was growing more pissed by the minute. The Pod Chamber was the likely answer, but she'd seen nothing in there but rocks and ruined pods, and Nasedo's dust, of course. Still, it was a big rock formation...could there be other rooms? Other chambers elsewhere? Of course there could be, but no way was she going into that with this one. How could Nasedo have expected to parlay with this bitch? He'd talked about peace and going home, but nothing Whitaker was saying would lead her to believe whatever "deal" they'd made was headed in that direction.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Tess said. "Go ahead, hit me," she continued when Whitaker's hand twitched. "Be my guest. Every minute you waste trying to make me tell you something I don't know is another minute you don't get what you want. If I'm really so 'inconsequential', go ahead and waste your oxygen."

Whitaker paced for a moment in silence before digging in Tess's purse and producing her phone. "Call Isabel," she commanded. "Tell her you need her."

"I'm a little tied up right now," Tess deadpanned.

"Don't get cute with me. I'll dial, you talk."

"No," Tess said flatly.

"You're in no position to refuse me anything, sweetheart."

"Isabel is," Tess said. "She'll know something's wrong. She won't come."

"You give her too much credit," Whitaker said derisively. "The 'Isabel' I knew wasn't exactly the sharpest crayon in the box. But even if she's managed to grow a few more brain cells, she'll delegate the dirty work and send one of the others. I'll still wind up with a more valuable hostage."

"What do you want with Isabel?" Tess said.

"Not that it's your business," Whitaker said, " but I'll do an exchange. Her for you. Hell, any of them for you. Lure one of them here, and I'll let you go. You're worth nothing to me."

The flat nature of that statement should have bothered her, but curiously, Tess discovered it didn't. She knew The Others would come for her. Whatever their differences, whatever their doubts, they'd come for her. She had to make sure they didn't.

"You will keep your voice calm," Whitaker ordered, her fingers working the keys. "You won't let on anything's wrong. Tell her to—"

"I'll tell her Congresswoman Whitaker is an alien," Tess interrupted hotly. "I'll yell, and scream, and tell her to get as far away as she possibly can. Go ahead and dial. I can't wait to tip her off."

"Why are you protecting her?" Whitaker demanded. "Why would you throw yourself under the bus after what she did?"

"Why?" Tess said warily. "What did she do?"

"What is the matter with you?" Whitaker exclaimed in exasperation. "God, are you all this stupid? 'What's my name? What's a Granolith? What did she do?' It's a wonder you know how to wipe yourselves!"

"Says the woman who didn't know who she was grabbing," Tess retorted. "If Nasedo really tried to make a deal with you, he needed his head examined."

The third slap landed on the left cheek, making that one two for two. "I am losing my patience," Whitaker warned.

"Makes two of us," Tess repeated thickly, tasting coppery blood in her mouth.

"In case you haven't noticed, your kind isn't in power any more," Whitaker spat. "We are in power, and—"

"And what a bang-up job you're doing!" Tess said with savage cheerfulness. "What you've done here is like a metaphor for what you've done to our world. No wonder everybody wants us back."

Whitaker's eyes narrowed as Tess braced herself for another slap. She'd made an educated guess based on the few details they'd learned, but judging by the vein throbbing in Whitaker's temple, she'd hit the nail right on the head. "Oh, and whatever deal you made with Nasedo?" Tess went on. "It's off. You killed it. Congratulations."

"Only the king has the authority to make that decision," Whitaker said.

"I'll tell him what you did to me, and he'll make that decision," Tess declared.

"And what makes you think you'll live long enough to do that?" Whitaker demanded.

"Doesn't matter. If you kill me, you'll be making my case for me. Either way, you lose." Tess smiled faintly as Whitaker frowned. "Who's 'inconsequential' now?"

"Call her," Whitaker ordered.

"Go to hell and stay there," Tess retorted.

Whitaker regarded her in stony silence for a moment. "All right, then," she said finally, setting the phone down. "I'll just have to get what I need some other way. Like out of you."






*********************************************************






Evans Residence





No, Isabel thought, leafing through her closet, pushing one of last year's monstrosities firmly aside. No, no...definitely no. Her date with Grant was doubly special; it wasn't just a date, it was an early birthday celebration, so she needed a date-and-early-birthday-celebration dress to go with it. Wait a minute...

With a wistful look, Isabel reached into the back of the closet and pulled out an off-the-shoulder taffeta gown which she'd never worn. It had been intended for a dance at the end of the last school year, but her brother being kidnapped and almost killed had made dances seem silly and trite. She'd stayed home, watching him anxiously for signs of trauma, hovering like a little mother hen while her friends danced the night away; there had been no chance to wear it since. Until now, she thought with a smile, holding it up to herself in the mirror. It was tight enough on top to cut off her breathing, hard to clean, wildly impractical...and gorgeous. It was time, past time, really, for it to come out of the closet. She reached for the zipper…

...and the next moment, she staggered sideways from a sudden headache which was so severe, she could barely breathe.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 33 on Sunday, July 5.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



September 17, 2000, 4 p.m.

Evans Residence




Isabel leaned against the wall, panting, her eyes closed. For a moment there she'd had a blinding headache which had come out of virtually nowhere. Now it was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had come, leaving her shaking, breathless, and seeing stars. What the hell had that been? Had she eaten or drunk something she shouldn't have? Ever since Michael's trip to the Indian reservation and Max's "one little sip", they had all lived in fear of something like that happening again, of exposure to something they didn't realize would affect them. But she certainly hadn't been visiting sweat lodges, had never touched alcohol and never would, hadn't done anything risky or different or even slightly unusual. So why had her head just been pounding like Motley Cru's drums?

"Isabel?"

Isabel's eyes flew open. "Mom! I...I didn't hear you come in."

"Well, I'm not really 'in'," Diane answered from the doorway. "Not yet, anyway. May I…?"

"Sure," Isabel said, flustered. "Come in. I was just...I'm going out tonight, and I was looking for something to wear."

"You looked like you were in pain," Diane noted.

"Yeah, I...I poked myself on something in the closet. Hurt like hell. You know, like when you give yourself a paper cut or bash your funny bone? But I'm okay," Isabel added hurriedly when Diane looked concerned. "It's gone now."

"Some dress," Diane said. "I remember that from last spring. The spring formal you didn't go to."

Isabel looked down; the taffeta gown was crumpled in her fist. "Are you...going to a party?" Diane asked.

"What? No! I just found this in the closet when I was rummaging, that's all."

"Ah," Diane nodded. "I was going to say, you must be going somewhere very special if you're wearing that."

"I'm just meeting a friend," Isabel said.

"Mmm," Diane murmured. "I so like that Alex. Such a nice boy."

"Yeah, he is...wait. How did you know I would see Alex?"

Diane looked blank for a moment. "Oh! He left a message on the answering machine. Something about a book." She paused, fingering the gown. "You know, you never told me why you didn't go to that dance."

"I just had...stuff...going on," Isabel shrugged.

"You and your brother," Diane sighed. "You both seem to have lots of 'stuff'."

"We sure do," Isabel agreed. "I mean, everyone our age does," she amended hastily. "Most of our friends have plenty of their own—" She stopped suddenly as a voice called from far away. "When did Tess get here?

Diane blinked. "Tess? You mean Tess Harding? She's not here."

"But I just heard her," Isabel said. "Like she was out in the living room, or something."

"There's no one here," Diane assured her. "Your dad's off on his trip, and Max had something else to do. It's just you and me."

Mystified, Isabel went out to the living room, Diane trailing behind. They were indeed alone in the house, and by the time she returned to her room, she was thoroughly confused. "Guess I was hearing things," she told her quizzical mother. "Well...I'd better get ready."

"Honey, I…" Diane paused as Isabel fretted privately; she didn't want to be late for Grant, and she knew that tone of voice. "I wanted to ask you," Diane went on, taking a seat on the bed, which was never a good sign, "if you'd like to see a counselor."

"A...a counselor? Me? Why?"

"Well, by your own admission, you have a lot of 'stuff' going on," Diane said. "And there was that test last week that you got so upset over, and seeing that dress reminds me that you were out of sorts right before school ended just like Max was. But he got all the attention, and maybe we weren't paying close enough attention to you."

"No, really Mom, it's okay—"

"Please let me finish," Diane said firmly. "Counseling really helped your brother; it gave him coping skills which he says made a big difference. Maybe some of those coping skills could help you too when you run into…'stuff'."

Oh, God, Isabel groaned. The last thing she needed was sessions with a nosy counselor. "I'm good, Mom, really," she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "I'm coping just fine by myself."

"Not from what I'm seeing," Diane argued. "Take that formal, for instance. You were all excited about going, that dress cost a fortune, and then suddenly, you weren't going."

"That was months ago," Isabel protested. "And if this is about money, I'll gladly pay you for the dress."

"No, honey, no!" Diane exclaimed, taking her by the shoulders. "This isn't about the dress, it's about you. I'm worried about you. Can't you see that?"

"What I 'see' is that you're inflating every time I'm not deliriously happy into some kind of problem," Isabel said irritably. "I'm not Max, Mom. Don't just transfer everything about him over to me."

Diane stared at her in shock. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Good one, Isabel, Isabel thought wearily. She should have known better than to question her mother's parenting skills, no matter how obliquely; nothing upset Diane more than the notion that she was less than stellar in the child-rearing department. "It's...it's what I think you might be doing," she answered, trying to salvage the situation. "And it would be perfectly understandable if you did, it's just...annoying."

Diane pondered that for a moment. "I disagree," she said finally. "My concerns are over what you're doing, or not doing."

"But you're blowing it out of proportion because...never mind," Isabel said. "Can we just not talk about this right now? I'm going out tonight, and I'd like to have fun."

"Of course, darling," Diane said soothingly. "Have a good time." She kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Just think about it, okay? Because I really think it would help. I'll see you when I get home."

"You're going out?" Isabel said.

"Yes!" Diane said brightly. "I've got a shindig to go to."

Good, Isabel thought as her mother left the room. If her mom was busy elsewhere, she could have her date with Grant in peace, pretty dress and all, and no questions. She held up the dress again, mentally picking shoes, make-up, jewelry. She'd really have to be more careful about hiding her emotions from her mother. The last thing she wanted was to land in a shrink's office…

Isabel's head whipped around as her hand went to the back of her neck. She'd heard Tess's voice again, only louder this time and accompanied by a flash of pain at the base of her skull. Grateful that this had happened after her mother had left the room, she leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. What in blazes was going on? Why did her head hurt? Why did she keep hearing Tess when Tess was nowhere in sight?

But the pain passed, and Isabel shrugged, laying out her dress. She'd learned a long time ago that being an alien meant weird things happened. Maybe this was a new power manifesting, like Max's green shield; they'd all noticed they'd been getting stronger, that they could do things they hadn't done before. Whatever it meant, it would have to wait because she had a very important date. She tugged off her clothes and slid into the dress, the boning cutting into her ribs as she coaxed the zipper up and pushed away the fact that this time, Tess's voice seemed to have been crying in pain.





**********************************************************





Chaves County Electric Power Facility—Plant #2






Vanessa slammed the door behind her and swore, profanity hanging in the air like fog; even if this particular branch of the New Mexico electrical grid had still been in use, she would have fit right in with its employees as long as they'd been willing to overlook the skirt. The Queen of Antar remained in a nearby room, tied to a chair and whimpering, but still frustratingly silent on any issue of merit. It remained to be seen as to whether this silence was due to a lack of knowledge as she claimed or mere obstinacy, but the result was the same—no Granolith, no princess, and no leverage, just an ersatz royal with an attitude. At this rate, she'd have to take the queen with her, for all the good that would do. How had Jaddo wound up with the queen, anyway? Her Warder was dead, of course, but why wasn't he also with his own Ward? Or maybe this was all a smokescreen and she wasn't really the queen? Maybe they'd put Rath in a female human body?

Her phone rang, and Vanessa stared at it for a moment in consternation. She'd chosen this location for many excellent reasons, one of those being its dodgy cell service, so who had accomplished the twin feats of having this number and punching through? Pulling out her phone, she stared at the screen in disbelief.

J.

Oh, God, Vanessa breathed, collapsing into a chair as the fragile bulwark she was attempting to build around herself suddenly became unnecessary. She and Jaddo had devised a means to identify his communications versus those supposedly coming from Pierce, and what a sight for sore eyes that was. "Where have you been?" she demanded furiously. "Do you realize they think you're dead? Do you realize I thought you were dead? I thought you'd left me hanging in the wind, treaty and all!"

There was no answer; not even breathing came over the line. He's pissed, Vanessa realized, and not without reason; if Courtney was right, he'd been attacked even as she'd allowed him to escape. "Look, I understand if you're angry," she said in a calmer tone. "The speculation is that our second operative jumped you after you left, and I'm sorry about that. But I really didn't believe it when Courtney said you were dead; God knows you're a tough nut to crack. It was only by sheer luck that they managed to capture you, so what were the odds they'd get that lucky twice? But when you didn't turn up, I just didn't know what to think, and...okay," she amended. "I'm babbling. I'm just so relieved to hear from you. You know I couldn't have shopped the treaty alone."

Silence. "For heaven's sake, say something. Or at least engage in some heavy breathing. And no, that doesn't mean you're welcome in my bed again," Vanessa added coyly. "Yet."

Still nothing. "Okay, this is getting old," Vanessa said irritably. "Why did you call if you didn't want to talk? Or is this your way of being sore at me about being captured? You know that wasn't me. I kept them from killing you. I kept them from drugging you a second time. I let you go. What else do I have to do? Stand on my head and spit wooden nickels?"

But the silence continued, and Vanessa began to fume. "Jaddo, say something. Say anything. Carry on, yell at me, pontificate, sermonize, I don't care, just say something!" She paused, growing more furious by the second as the silence lengthened, finally shouting, "Say something!"

"Interesting," an unfamiliar voice murmured. "Very interesting indeed."

Shocked speechless, Vanessa shot out of her chair, springing to a standing position only to sink back down. What was she doing, standing at attention? She was reacting like a truant pupil in front of the headmaster, not a prominent player on the field. "Brivari," she breathed.

"Vanessa," he replied smoothly, almost cordially, lacking so much as a hint of malice. "You know, despite our long history, I don't believe we've ever actually met, much less been formally introduced."

Slowly, Vanessa rose to her feet; on second thought, perhaps it was better to face the King's Warder standing, even over a cell connection. "I didn't kill him!" she blurted.

"So I'm told," Brivari replied.

"But you don't believe me?"

"Let's just say the jury's still out."

"A 'jury'?" Vanessa said derisively. "A jury of one. Don't you need more than one to make a jury?"

"Some do," Brivari allowed. "I don't."

No, of course not, Vanessa thought desperately, trying to think and finding it impossible. This was no ordinary Warder; Brivari went back, way back. Everyone knew he spoke for the crown, hell, some said he was the crown. That had certainly been true when a king bent on creating a dynasty had seized the throne in Antar's first bloodless succession within memory, even more true when his son had become king arguably too young, and would likely be true again as a hybrid king struggled to regain it. "Look, you need to know I had nothing to do with what happened to him," she said. "I had no idea what was going on."

"I see," Brivari replied. "So, for the record, you didn't save him, free him, and so forth?"

"Yes! I did!"

"Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it would seem that in order to free him, you would have to have had at least some idea of what was going on."

"No! I meant that…" She stopped, mentally kicking herself. He was doing it again, what he did so well, trapping you in a snare composed of your own words as you spiraled out of control, becoming more and more hysterical. She was better than this. She was smarter than this. She needed to stay calm, refuse the bait, and play him like he was playing her. Trying to play me, she corrected. Trying.

"I didn't find out until after they'd captured him," Vanessa said, struggling to keep her voice level, "and it was sheer luck that they managed to do that. I pretended to dose him, prevented them from alerting Nicholas, and cut him free as soon as he was able to navigate. I gave him every advantage I could."

"Oh, I'm sure," Brivari said in a sardonic voice. "Every advantage with the exception of life."

"How was I supposed to know that second operative would show up just then?" Vanessa demanded. "We hadn't heard a thing from him all day; we assumed you'd killed him. How was I…" She stopped, breathing hard; she was taking the bait again, doing exactly what he wanted—losing her temper and babbling. "We have other concerns," she continued. "Jaddo and I had drafted a peace treaty. We had each planned to present it to our respective superiors, which in his case meant you, although I would have thought it would be Rath."

"I have been apprised of its contents," Brivari said.

"Then you've talked to Courtney," Vanessa said with a palpable sense of relief. It was a strange turn of events which found her seeking validation from that mouthy little bitch, but the fact remained that Courtney could back her up.

"I have not," Brivari answered.

"Then how do you...wait," Vanessa said irritably, recalling that someone else had filled Courtney in on the treaty's terms. "Who else is so high up the food chain that they know about the treaty?"

"None of your goddamned business," Brivari said.

His tone was casual, almost too casual, as though he was mocking her, which he probably was. "Never mind," Vanessa said, abandoning that line of inquiry. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that we need to—"

"No, we don't. I will not support anything which denies my Ward his throne."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, you know that having either Zan or Khivar on the throne won't work," Vanessa said impatiently. "Jaddo understood that without my having to tell him."

"Of course he did," Brivari said. "He wanted Rath on the throne."

"And we considered that," Vanessa admitted. "And rejected it because everyone is in love with the whole "House of Riall" fairy tale. They will expect a direct descendant of Riall on their throne, and if that can't be Zan, it will have to be his child, and Jaddo agreed."

"I don't care what Jaddo agreed to," Brivari said. "Jaddo is no longer here, and you have yourself to thank for that."

"I didn't….!" Vanessa stopped again; she'd already pleaded her innocence, so time spent repeating that was wasted. "Brivari, we have to do something. Antar is a mess—"

"And whose fault would that be?"

"Assigning blame is hardly constructive," Vanessa said stiffly.

"A likely response from one holding the lion's share of that blame," Brivari noted.

"Pointing fingers won't fix things!" Vanessa exclaimed. "And if things go on as they are, there won't be anything left to fix!"

"At the risk of repeating myself...whose fault would that be?"

"Fine, you want to hear me say it? I'll say it," Vanessa huffed. "Khivar is a disaster. He needs to go. There! Happy?"

"Delirious," Brivari said dryly. "But it brings to mind one question. If things are so bad, why would we need a treaty? If things are that bad, Zan will be welcomed back with open arms."

"Don't play dumb with me," Vanessa snapped. "You know perfectly well how this works. We're still in power, so you need our buy-in. Jaddo also realized that it wouldn't do Zan any good to regain the throne only to be killed ten minutes later."

"I predict Khivar will die in less than that," Brivari said.

"They'll both die without some kind of compromise," Vanessa insisted. "And they both need to live to make a compromise work, at least initially."

"Do I take that to mean that you plan to assassinate His Royal Highness—again—after a suitable period of time has passed?"

Vanessa's hand gripped the phone tighter as she struggled to keep her temper. "Zan was not supposed to die. None of them were. That was Nicholas, and he was punished. Hell, he's still being punished."

"That's the thing about coups, though, isn't it?" Brivari mused in a tone which suggested he was discussing the weather. "They're so frightfully unpredictable. And so, I would add, are treaties. Despite everyone's intentions, they frequently just don't turn out the way the authors intended, and that would be because both a coup and a treaty create a power vacuum into which other parties rush, parties which were not originally accounted for."

"Well, thank you very much for the political science lesson," Vanessa said tartly. "So what are you suggesting? That we do nothing? That we just sit here and let Antar fall to pieces?"

"Of course not," Brivari answered. "I fully intend to remove the usurper and reestablish the rightful king, returning Antar to its former peaceful and prosperous state."

"Good God, he's living in La La Land," Vanessa groaned. "Where's the realist when I need him?"

"Dead," Brivari replied, "courtesy of you. And you are mistaken—I'm very much a realist, which is why there will be no treaty, no negotiation of any kind because, you see, the crown does not negotiate with terrorists. That's the part Jaddo missed. He actually took you seriously."

Vanessa's jaw clenched. "We knew you'd feel that way, which is why I arranged for an incentive." She paused. "I have Ava."

There followed a silence so profound that Vanessa wasn't able to keep her mouth shut, to wait for him to speak first. "Did you hear me?" she demanded. "I have Zan's wife! She's tied to a chair in the other room!"

"Prove it," Brivari said flatly.

Vanessa marched into the adjoining room and shoved the phone in Ava's face. "Speak," she commanded.

Ava's blonde curls shook as she stared hopefully at the telephone. "Whoever's there, Vanessa Whitaker is a Skin! Don't do anything she says, don't believe anything she says! Don't—"

"Shut up," Vanessa snapped, pulling the phone away and retreating even as Ava continued to shout warnings. "Satisfied?"

"So," Brivari said coldly, "you bleat about 'peace' and 'treaties' even as you abduct the king's wife. 'Terrorist' was closer to the mark than even I thought."

"Hey, I needed leverage!" Vanessa exclaimed, irritated because he had a point. "I knew—no, we knew, Jaddo and I—that you would react like this, and if he was truly dead, I needed something to make you listen. Are you listening now, Brivari?"

There came a moment of stony silence. "You have my complete attention."

"Good," Vanessa said. "Because you and I are going to meet and discuss the terms of this treaty, or—"

"Or what?" Brivari interrupted. "You'll execute your single piece of leverage? Not too bright, are you?"

"Don't forget, there's more where she came from," Vanessa retorted. "If I found her, that means I've found the rest of them, and if they're as clueless as this one, taking them will be child's play. You can't watch them all at once, Warder. I started with the least valuable hybrid, but I can keep going if you like, even call in reinforcements. Is that what you want? No, I didn't think so," she continued when he didn't answer. "All I'm asking is that you meet with me and discuss the terms of the treaty. It's a first draft. We can craft a new one, you and I. Any treaty you endorse is far more likely to succeed anyway."

"So you seriously expect me to believe that if I merely meet with you, even if I reject any terms you suggest, you'll release my Ward's wife?"

Vanessa paced the room in silence, fretting. She really shouldn't let Ava go under any circumstances, but how could she not? She needed to give up something to prove her trustworthiness, and this was very little to give up—the girl was useless. Besides, although she had yet to figure out who Zan was, she knew Vilandra, at least, and her human "brother" was probably Rath. There were others to choose from should the going get rougher than it was now.

"You have my word as an Argilian soldier," she said firmly, "that if you meet with me, I will release the Queen regardless of the outcome of our deliberations."

Brivari burst out laughing. Vanessa stood there, stunned, as his laughter rang through the crappy little room, loud enough to be audible on Antar. Everything he had said or even implied paled before the sting of this rebuke. "Your 'word as an Argilian soldier'," he chortled as she scowled. "Oh, my. I haven't heard anything that hilarious in ages."

"Glad to oblige," Vanessa said coldly. "Do we have a deal?"

"No," Brivari answered, "but I'll meet with you, if only in the hopes of hearing another whopper. Your office, 7 p.m."

"Just exactly how stupid do you think I am?" Vanessa demanded. "Don't answer that," she added darkly. "I think I already know. Let's try somewhere public, where it will be harder to pull out your Warder Ray Gun. The Crashdown, 8:30 p.m."

"Gracious, how gauche," Brivari said. "I don't need a 'ray gun'. A quiet heart attack in your booth, as you fall face first into your Men in Black burger while surrounded by heartbroken constituents, would suffice. The Crashdown, then, 8:30. Don't be late. I won't wait for you."

The line went dead. Cursing, Vanessa resisted the urge to fling her phone across the room. That bastard had controlled almost every aspect of the conversation, from placing the call to a phone he shouldn't have been able to reach to hanging up on her. Almost, she reminded herself, pacing furiously. "Almost" was the key word there, and she shouldn't let the inevitable saber-rattling rattle her. He could kill her in a public place without exposing himself, but he knew she could kill the queen, and despite his apparent nonchalance, his Ward would not be pleased if his own Warder failed to save her life, especially if the price of that life was a mere meeting. He wouldn't do anything stupid for the same reason she wouldn't—there was too much at stake. Problem was that if she left their meeting alive, she would be honor bound to release the queen or don the mantle of terrorist. Which meant that any advantage she gained must be gained before the meeting took place.

Checking her watch, Vanessa strode into the other room, where Ava glared at her defiantly. "I should tell you that I'm impressed you didn't just yell for help when you had the chance. Warning the king...that was smart."

"That wasn't the king," Ava said. "The king would have said something to me. Who was that? Who were you talking to?"

"Mmm," Vanessa murmured. "Smart again. But then you were taught by the best. I'd ask you how you wound up with him, but I'm pretty sure you'd say…?"

"I don't know," Ava said flatly.

"Right," Vanessa said. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to amp things up a bit. You see, I suddenly find myself on a bit of a tight schedule, I just don't buy the idea that you don't know anything of value, and I will shortly need something else of value. So," she continued as Ava's eyes widened, "shall we begin?"






*********************************************************





Crashdown Cafe






Cupping her hands around her eyes, Courtney peered through the window of Vanessa's office. Vanessa had sounded like she understood the gravity of the situation when told of Brivari's impending reappearance, but Courtney wasn't buying it. Can't say she wasn't warned, Courtney thought darkly as her eyes adjusted from the sunshine outside to the office's dim interior. Can't say she hadn't given that damned treaty every chance she could, even when that meant warning the enemy, which had just felt...wrong. But they were already down one treaty author, so losing the second would kill the whole thing. Vanessa was just pig-headed and vain enough to stand her ground in the face of impending doom, so she fully expected to see her sitting nonchalantly with her feet up on a desk, oblivious to the freight train roaring toward her. But Vanessa's office door was wide open, and through it gyrated a remarkably uninhibited Liz Parker, moving to music only she could hear and obviously all alone. Maybe hell had frozen over and Vanessa had actually gotten the message. After all, the humans claimed there was a first time for everything.

The voices hit her the moment she opened the Crashdown's back door, two voices in heated argument. A moment later, Maria blasted from the kitchen with a look of grim death while Rath stayed behind, his expression a curious mixture of nonplussed and exasperated. Not again, Courtney groaned. Originally impressed with Maria's backbone, she was growing increasingly weary of it as that very stubbornness prevented her from accepting the fact that she and Rath were over. The fate of a planet hung in the balance, and here was Maria going on about her "relationship". Granted Maria didn't know that, but she certainly knew her intended belonged elsewhere, had something massive to fix, a world to save. Didn't that mean anything to her?

"What are you doing here?" Maria demanded, flinty-eyed.

"I work here," Courtney answered. "When does Alzheimer's start? Because you seem to be forgetting some pretty basic stuff."

"Not tonight you don't," Maria declared, ignoring her. "Tonight is Isabel's party."

"And Max asked me to work it," Courtney said. "So, yes, tonight I do."

"Max asked you?" Maria said suspiciously. "Why would he do that?"

"I think the idea was that having Isabel's friends work the party would interfere with their enjoyment of said party," Courtney said. "So he arranged to free her friends from waitressing duties and shopped the job to someone else. But, hey, if you'd really rather spend her birthday party mopping the bathroom floors, knock yourself out. I'm sure she'd be touched that you prefer potties to presents."

A snort sounded behind them; Rath hastily left the kitchen doorway, but not before both had seen his smirk, and Maria turned back to her with murder in her eyes. "You are not working this party," she announced. "Go home."

"Max hired me, not you," Courtney noted. "Because you're slow, I'll spell it out for you—you didn't hire me, so you can't fire me."

Maria grabbed her by the arm. "Wanna bet?"

"Yeah, I do," Courtney retorted. "I'm betting you'll lose. Take it up with Max. And get your hand off my arm. Now."

Maria's eyebrows rose, but she released her, and as Courtney passed the kitchen door, she spied Rath with a faint smile on his face. Normally she enjoyed sparring with Maria and the resulting approval from Rath, but today she wasn't in the mood, nor would she be until Vanessa was safely out of Brivari's reach and the prospect of peace remained a prospect, albeit a distant one, which was still far better than an absent one. She'd just opened her locker when her phone rang.

"Welcome back," Courtney said warily when she saw who it was.

"You've been talking to Vanessa," Brivari announced.

Here we go, Courtney thought. Time to tap dance, to guess at what he was getting at, at what he'd heard, at how much she should divulge. "Actually, she came to me," Courtney said truthfully. "Right here at the Crashdown. I thought she'd come to kill me."

"A logical conclusion," Brivari agreed. "And?"

"And she told me something pretty incredible," Courtney went on, encouraged by the fact that he didn't sound angry...yet. "She told me that she and Jaddo had hammered out a peace treaty, and she wanted the Resistance to support it."

"And do you?"

The question sounded casual, but Courtney knew full well there was nothing casual about it; this was the make or break, draw-a-line-in-the-sand question. "I support the concept," she answered, treading carefully, "but not necessarily the first draft. Although we could do worse. Much worse."

"Worse than my Ward denied his throne?" Brivari said. "Debatable, but also irrelevant. Vanessa has abducted the Queen."

Courtney blinked. "What?"

"She's taken Ava," Brivari said. "She's holding her hostage unless I agree to meet with her about this…'treaty'."

Flabbergasted, Courtney almost missed the gargantuan amount of disdain wreathing that last word. "Wait, she...she took her? You're certain?"

"I had her put Ava on the phone," Brivari said. "She remains refreshingly defiant, although there's no telling how long that will last."

Courtney staggered against the locker as though she'd been physically struck. This was it. It was over. Vanessa had gone and done the one thing Brivari could never forgive—she'd threatened a member of the royal family. It was all over, whether it be treaties, compromises, discussions...or hope. All eradicated by one stupid act.

"If Vanessa and Jaddo were working on 'treaties', she'd obviously figured out his true identity," Brivari went on. "My guess is she also figured out his human alias, which would have led her to Ava. I rang her on Jaddo's phone, and she answered it as though she feared he was dead, but was relieved he wasn't. Apparently she decided to acquire some leverage just in case."

"You sound awfully calm for a Warder with a kidnapped Royal," Courtney said, neglecting to mention that she'd been searching for leverage herself, albeit not in the form of abduction.

"She won't harm her," Brivari said. "Not permanently, anyway. Dead leverage is no leverage."

"So...are you going to meet with her?" Courtney asked, trying to sound neutral instead of hopeful.

"Of course not," Brivari said coldly. "Why would I? I will retrieve the queen, and then I'll deal with Vanessa. She thinks I'm meeting her at the Crashdown at 8:30. I'll be there, but not to discuss treaties, I assure you."

"She's coming here?" Courtney said. "Tonight? Zan is throwing a surprise birthday party for Vilandra tonight."

"Good," Brivari said. "They'll all be there and out of the way while I mop things up."

"Bad," Courtney corrected. "They'll notice Ava is missing and start asking all kinds of inconvenient questions."

"Let them. They won't do anything until after the party."

"You sure about that?" Courtney said. "They can get pretty intense when they—"

"Yes, I'm sure," Brivari said flatly, "because you're going to make certain they stay there. I used Vanessa's cell signal to narrow the search area, but I'll still have to do some hunting, and there's only one of me. The last thing I need is more hybrids blundering into her arms, so make certain they stay out of my way. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," Courtney said faintly. "Good luck."

The line went dead. This is my fault, Courtney thought, feeling sick to her stomach. It was she who had tipped off Vanessa to Brivari's impending arrival, she who had urged her to flee; Vanessa wouldn't have had a clue without that, whether or not she'd figured out Tess was a hybrid. Instead of leaving, Vanessa had responded by doing the one thing that ensured Brivari would never listen to her. This was a disaster, and it was all her fault. "Shit!" she said furiously, smacking the locker for good measure.

"Problem?"

It was Rath, standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yeah, you could say that," Courtney answered angrily. "I just screwed up big time."

"How big is big time?" Rath asked.

"Fucked-it-up-for-billions-of-people big time. That big enough for you?"

"Been there, done that," Rath said.

"And the best part is, it's all my fault!" Courtney went on with savage cheer. "I thought I was making things better, and it all just went to shit. Shit, shit, shit!"

"What's with the blue streak? You break a nail?"

It was Maria, all snark and suspicion, and Courtney wasn't in the mood for it. "Scram," she said curtly.

"Oooh, is someone having a bad day?" Maria mocked in a singsong voice. "A vewy bad day? Poor—"

Maria stopped abruptly as Courtney came within millimeters of her nose. "I'm only gonna say this once, so listen up," Courtney ordered. "Despite what you seem to think, your petty little problems are not at the top of the universe's to-do list, not on this world or any other. Now, get out of my face and stay out."

Maria's eyebrows rose. "Aren't you the one getting in my face?"

"Maria?" Rath said. "Go."

"But—"

"I said go."

Maria stared at him for a moment before she stalked off, smoldering. "Thanks," Courtney muttered.

"You looked like you were ready to kill her," Rath said. "Not that she doesn't give you good reasons several times a day, but I figured you didn't need anything else on your rap sheet."

Courtney smiled faintly in spite of herself. "You know a lot about rap sheets, Mikey G.?"

Rath shrugged. "More than I'd like to."

"An ex-con," Courtney said approvingly. "I like that."

Rath shook his head. "Nothing that ambitious. Just someone else who's fucked things up by trying to make them better. We're the people who never catch a break, remember? I had a teacher who went on and on about how we learn from failure. If that's true, the people who can't catch a break should be freakin' geniuses. We should be running the world." He paused, looking suddenly self-conscious, as if he'd revealed too much. "Good luck with your problem."

Courtney watched him retreat to the kitchen, a glimmer of hope on two feet. Who cared what Brivari thought? A decision on the treaty had always rested with the king, and who better to influence that king than his Second? Maybe it was time to seriously pursue the first truly good idea she'd ever seen Jaddo have, the one where she married Rath. Maybe then there'd be hope for his second good idea, the one where Antar flipped from blood bath to golden age. It could happen. They could do it.

We should be running the world. "Damn straight, buddy," Courtney murmured. "Just not this one."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



It's time for another trip to New Zealand to see my son! I'll be back next month with Chapter 34 on Sunday, August 9. We're staying longer this time, which is why there's such a long delay. (I knew this was coming, so I posted on some holidays I usually don't, like Mother's Day and Memorial Day weekend, and I'll also be posting Labor Day weekend.) I hope everyone has a wonderful July, and I'll see you next month!

Hi, everyone! I'm back from the other side of the world. We had a wonderful time with our son, and I'm almost over the jet lag. Time to get back to writing!







CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR




September 17, 2000, 6:45 p.m.

Crashdown Cafe






"This will be fun!" Anthony exclaimed as he pulled the car into a parking spot. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Aren't you just the eager beaver," Dee said. "Anyone would think it was your birthday instead of Isabel's."

"Doesn't matter whose it is," Anthony said. "We all need a pick-me-up, and this fits the bill. Hand me the present."

"Afraid I'll open it on the way in?" Dee asked dryly.

"No, I'm afraid you'll infect it with you pessimism," Anthony said. "No gloom tonight. That's an order. We shouldn't ruin this for Isabel."

"Of course I won't ruin it for Isabel," Dee said. "But it's a little hard to not be pessimistic after we buried Jaddo today, in a manner of speaking, and Brivari popped his cork about the treaty."

"It was the first he'd heard of it," Anthony reminded her. "Give him time."

"Vanessa doesn't have time. We may as well order the funeral flowers now."

"He didn't say he was going to kill her," Anthony noted.

"He didn't say anything at all," Dee replied. "I asked him what he was going to do about her, and he just walked away."

"Which means we don't know what he has in mind, so why second guess? Now, hand me the present."

" 'We don't know what he has in mind'?" Dee repeated incredulously. "Like hell we don't!"

"Not officially," Anthony argued. "And besides, it's technically none of our business. Yes, I know this concerns our grandchildren, but they're not toddlers—they're old enough to speak for themselves when the time comes. And sometimes I think we insert ourselves far too much into these affairs when we really should just stand back and let the chips fall where they may."

"So you're just going to pretend everything's hunky dory?" Dee demanded.

"For the length of time it takes to throw a party, you bet," Anthony declared. "Trust me, the mess will still be there when the party's over. We're all running on fumes these days. Let's take a break, shall we? Fill up the old gas tank with some birthday cake?"

"So that's what you're after," Dee said in disgust. "Cake! I should've known."

"You don't bake much any more," Anthony said.

"I never baked much anyway," Dee retorted.

"All the more reason to enjoy cake where I can find it. Come on."

Dee shook her head as Anthony climbed out, hefting Isabel's large, gaily wrapped present like it was a shield. Maybe it is, she admitted. After all, that was the whole point of this somewhat early party, wasn't it? The official line from Diane was that Max was looking for something to cheer up his sister, although Diane didn't know how dire the circumstances which required cheering. It was a worthy goal, and one she didn't want to impede.

"Promise me you won't be a party pooper," Anthony warned as she climbed out of the car.

"I promise," Dee said. "You're right—-why not just ignore the approaching thundercloud? It's not like we can do anything about it anyway."

"That sounds suspiciously party-pooperish," Anthony said doubtfully.

"Not at all," Dee said. "The kids deserve a break. Party hearty!"

Anthony gazed at her suspiciously before apparently deciding to take her word for it, at least for the moment. Giant gift in tow, they approached the back door of the Crashdown as ordered, lest anything tip Isabel off to the presence of a crowd, and knocked the requested four times. "I feel like I'm in a spy movie," Anthony said gleefully as Dee rolled her eyes. At least someone was having fun.

The door cracked open, then opened further. "Hi," Liz Parker said. "You must be here for the party."

"What gave it away?" Dee asked innocently. "The four knocks, or the present the size of North Dakota?"

"We're Isabel's grandparents," Anthony explained when Liz looked at a loss for words. "Don't mind her. She's contrary."

"Oh, I...no, that's not why...I mean, come in!" Liz said, flustered. "You just kind of reminded me of my grandmother for a moment. She died a while ago. My Dad used to say she was contrary too."

"All grandmothers are contrary," Dee noted. "When you get to our age, you can get away with it."

"Dad says Grandma Claudia was contrary pretty much all her life," Liz observed.

"So is this one," Anthony said as Dee scowled at him. "That age business is just a convenient excuse. Where do the gifts go?"

"In here," Liz said. "I'll take it."

They followed her inside, stopping near a closed door from which boomed loud music just as Diane appeared from the cafe. "Mom! Dad! I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice."

"Yes, well, we set aside our busy social calendar just for this party," Dee said.

"She's kidding," Anthony translated when Diane looked blank. "We're delighted to be here."

"God knows Philip would love to be," Diane said ruefully, "but I couldn't get Max to wait even a week or two. He kept saying Isabel needed a break, something fun to do, and she needed it right now."

"I'm sure she does," Dee agreed. "I mean, I'm sure Max knows what he's talking about," she amended when Diane gave her a puzzled look. "He usually does."

"Well, darned if he ever tells me," Diane sighed. "Sometimes I think I have no idea what goes on in my own children's lives. Gracious, what is that noise?" she added as shouts sounded over the loud music. "I hope that's not what we're playing at the party."

Liz, who had been suitably poker-faced at the suggestion that Diane didn't know what her kids were doing, suddenly looked alarmed. "Could you take their gift?" she asked Diane. "I have to get to the office."

"You're not staying for the party?" Diane asked.

"I'm coming back," Liz assured her. "I just have a few things to finish up."

"The Congresswoman must be so pleased to have such a good worker," Diane smiled. "I'll go put this with the other gifts." She walked away, casting a baleful glance at the closed door, which opened as soon as she disappeared into the cafe.

"I don't know if I can go this far," a doubtful male voice said. "Maybe just the shirt."

"You should totally go that far!" a female voice answered. "Isabel will love it! And you've got the moves down beautifully—just twirl your shirt a few more times before you throw it, maybe wiggle your hips a little more before…"

The voice trailed off as Alex Whitman and Maria DeLuca appeared in the doorway, the latter holding a pile of clothes; both goggled at Dee and Anthony, who were watching them with amusement. "Uh...these are Isabel's grandparents," Liz said awkwardly.

"Hello Maria, hello Alex," Dee said, looking him up and down with a wide smile. "Love the color. It suits you."

"Matches his face," Anthony murmured.

"Here," Maria said, handing the clothes to a crimson Alex as Dee planted an elbow in Anthony's ribs. "Alex? Alex! Go get dressed."

Alex nodded slowly, half turning, then thinking better of it in favor of backing up. "Okay," Maria said after he'd left, "I know what this looks like, but it's not what you think."

"Isn't it?" Dee said. "Because it looks like a young woman's birthday party."

"It was a surprise for Isabel," Liz chimed in.

"And I'm quite certain she'll be surprised," Anthony agreed. "I'm quite certain a lot of people will be."

"Please don't tell her mom," Maria begged. "Max was afraid she'd freak, so we kept this real quiet."

"She would," Dee agreed, "so you were smart to keep it to yourself. Besides, it's really none of her business. This is Isabel's party, not hers."

"Okay, it's official," Maria announced. "Grandmothers are the coolest thing out there." Her eyes widened as Liz's suddenly glistened. "Oh, God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to...geez, Liz, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Liz said, with a quick swipe at her eyes. "I should to get to work. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"God, I feel like such an idiot!" Maria exclaimed after the back door had closed behind her friend. "Why did I say that?"

"Nonsense," Dee said briskly. "It's not your fault her grandmother died, and you can't walk on eggshells all the time. Go find Alex, dear, and make sure he's still breathing. He looked a little green around the gills."

Maria departed, still muttering, as Anthony gave a long, low whistle. "I can't wait to see Diane's face! What do you call that thing he was almost wearing? It was too small to be a Speedo."

"A thong," Dee answered. "And no, you can't have one."

"Don't want one," Anthony said. "It looked painful. Was it supposed to go all the way up between his—"

"Oh, good. You're here."

It was Courtney, taut as a bowstring. "Yes, they're designed that way," Dee said, answering her husband's question.

"We called that a 'wedgie'," Anthony noted. "And we tried to avoid them."

"Times change," Dee counseled.

"What are you two on about?" Courtney demanded.

"Alex's thong," Dee said. "My husband is aghast."

"Only because it looked painful," Anthony objected.

"Alex is doing a striptease for Isabel's party," Courtney said impatiently. "Never mind that. We have to—"

"A striptease?" Anthony said. "Really?"

"Yes, a striptease," Dee said patiently. "What else would he be doing with tiny underwear and Maria coaching him to swing his shirt around and wiggle his hips?"

"Yikes," Anthony murmured.

"Hey!" Courtney admonished. "Over here! Focus! We have a problem!"

"Of course we do," Dee sighed. "Brivari's back. I'll tell you all about it later. We're taking tonight off from alien intrigue to enjoy—"

"Like hell you are," Courtney interrupted. "Wait till you hear what Vanessa did."





*********************************************************





Music pounded as Alex gyrated in the midst of an appreciative audience which wasn't shy about expressing that appreciation. Max grinned as his sister laughed, Michael and Kyle watched with equal amounts of astonishment and envy, and the crowd went wild, erupting in a burst of joy so strong, it was almost palpable. Maria was gyrating along with Alex like a nervous teacher concerned about her student, but she needn't have worried; despite the misgivings she'd mentioned earlier, Alex appeared to be having a ball. We needed this, Max thought. They all needed this, something fun, something crazy, but good-crazy, not alien-crazy. It was something of a miracle that he'd managed to pull this party together in just a few days, securing the Crashdown, the guests, and even the night's entertainment, currently in progress and going over like gangbusters. Liz had helped enthusiastically, making him wish he could have dragged the process out a lot longer, and even Michael had chipped in despite his still being sullen over the whole Brody thing. Too bad, Max thought. Michael and Isabel had been wrong while he had been right. His handling of the situation proved that he was the rightful leader, and the fact that he'd managed to assemble this party on such short notice only drove that point home further. He was riding high, and the only thing keeping him from riding higher was his sister, who had appeared at the Crashdown at the appointed hour dressed to kill...but not for a party.

"Oh, my God, he's gonna do it!" Maria squealed as Alex ripped his shirt off. "He's gonna take'em off!"

"Wasn't he supposed to?" Max asked.

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't sure," Maria answered. "Sometimes he wouldn't even strip down to the thong when we were practicing so I didn't think...uh oh."

Alex's dance came to an abrupt halt as he found himself face to face with Max's mom. "Hi, Mrs. Evans," he said weakly. "Great party."

Everyone's eyes were elsewhere as Diane Evans surveyed the scene in the classic disapproving-mother-with-hands-on-hips mode and Alex fled. "Did you know about this, Max?" Diane demanded.

"I just heard that someone had a surprise for Isabel," Max said.

"I'm surprised!" Isabel grinned.

"Well, so am I," Diane said primly. "What would your father say? This is no way to celebrate a young lady's—Mom, you tell them," Diane said as Grandma Dee and Grandpa Anthony appeared behind her. "Tell them that's no way to celebrate a young lady's birthday."

"I thought it was spectacular," Grandma Dee said.

"Oh, of course you did," Diane muttered.

"Being a 'lady' is so tiresome," Grandma Dee went on. "I'm so glad I never bothered."

"Mom!" Diane admonished as Isabel burst out laughing. "What kind of a role model are you being?"

"A realistic one," Grandpa offered. "Although you do have a point that our son may not appreciate a young man stripping for his daughter."

"Then it's just as well he's not here," Grandma answered.

"What a horrible thing to say!" Diane exclaimed. "Honestly, sometimes I don't know what to do with you, Mom!"

"Thank you, Grandma," Isabel whispered after Diane stalked off in a huff.

"We tried to keep her busy in the back, but she heard the music and got curious," Grandma said. "The only real question is, did you enjoy it? It's your party, after all. I'll take that as a 'yes'," she went on when they all broke into grins. "Don't mind her; she'll get over it."

"Perhaps we should find her a drink," Grandpa suggested. "Preferably something stronger than punch. Think Jeff has anything we could spike it with?"

"Oh, my God!" Isabel laughed as they walked off in search of Diane. "Do you think they're actually going to spike Mom's drink?"

"I am officially in love with your grandparents," Maria declared.

"Grandma and Grandpa always know how to handle Mom," Max said. "That's why I asked them to try and keep her out of the way."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Maria sighed. "He was so close."

"Was that your idea?" Isabel said. "It must have been."

"My idea," Maria agreed, "but it wasn't much work to talk him into it. He'd do anything for you, Isabel. Anything at all."

"Well, tell him I loved it," Isabel said. "I'll tell him myself, but I'm guessing you might see him first when he stops dying of embarrassment."

"I should make sure he's still breathing," Maria agreed.

"She's right, you know," Max said as Maria went in search of. "Alex would do anything for you."

"Don't start shoving Alex on me, Max," Isabel said. "Alex is a dear friend, but that's all. I don't think of him like...that."

"Like you think of Grant?"

Isabel heaved a weary sigh. "It was just a date. A date. That's all."

"How long have you been seeing him?"

"Since never," Isabel said tartly, "because we never managed to pull it off what with hell breaking lose every other minute."

"So you've been trying for a while," Max said.

"What have you got against Grant?" Isabel demanded. "He's never done anything to you."

"No, he did something to Michael," Max reminded her.

"Not on purpose," Isabel argued. "He just happened to find our mess. We leave so many lying around, someone was bound to find one sooner or later."

"What if he didn't 'just happen' to find the bones?" Max said. "What if he's an enemy?"

Isabel stared at him. "You were the one who said he was just a 'random geologist' who made a random find. You were the one accusing Michael and me of being all paranoid about Brody. But of course now that you know he likes me, he's automatically an enemy."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Max chided. "I'm just considering the possibilities, even the unlikely ones. And like I said, this isn't a good time to let anyone else in."

"It's never a good time, and I'm not letting anyone 'in'," Isabel retorted. "It's a date, Max, just a one night encounter. You don't know how those work because you skipped right over that part and the next sixty-six to land on 'soulmate' and spill all our secrets. And no, that's not just 'the past'. That 'past' rears its head every single time Liz Parker walks by, along with everyone else she's blathered to."

"Like Alex?" Max said softly.

Isabel looked stricken, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by the arrival of Kyle. "Here's the birthday girl!" Kyle exclaimed, giving her a hug. "Happy Birthday! And how about that Whitman? Never thought I'd see the day a geek would do something like that."

"Yeah, I'd sooner expect you to do something like that," Isabel answered. "So when do I get a birthday striptease from you?"

Kyle pinked. "Not with your mom around," he whispered. "She looked a little cranky."

"Oh, right," Isabel said sagely. "It's just because of my mom."

"I'm...over at that booth," Kyle said hurriedly, crooking a thumb. "Stop by!"

"Jocks," Isabel muttered as Kyle beat a hasty retreat. "Almost as bad as overbearing brothers."

"I'm not 'overbearing'," Max objected, "I'm just trying to...what is it?" he asked as she doubled over, one hand clutched to her head. "Is that your headache again?"

Isabel straightened up slowly, a look of alarm on her face. "Yeah. They're getting worse."





*********************************************************






"Did you know about this?" Diane demanded. "How could you not know about this? Isn't there anyone vetting these things, or asking any questions?"

Eyes as wide as platters, Jeff Parker personified the concept of "deer in the headlights". "I...uh…"

"Do you have any idea how bad this makes your cafe look?" Diane went on. "Do you really want people going around town thinking the Crashdown is a strip joint?"

"The audience seemed to be enjoying it," Dee noted.

"Really enjoying it," Anthony added.

"Would you two please stay out of this?" Diane said crossly. "You're as bad as the teenagers!"

Dee felt Anthony squeeze her arm, probably to keep her from throwing it around Diane's neck and pulling hard. It was never easy to listen to one of her rants when she got her teeth in something, but it was doubly difficult tonight with the specter of kidnapped children and dashed hopes looming over them like a thundercloud. Tess was still missing, Brivari had not called, Courtney was ready to explode, and Diane was exploding, about all the wrong things. So much for a night off.

"Diane, I can promise you I knew nothing about this," Jeff said earnestly. "Liz just told me you were throwing Isabel a birthday party, but she never said anything about the...entertainment. I'll certainly speak to her just as soon as she gets back."

"Why?" Dee said. "It was Max's and Maria's idea."

"Nonsense," Diane scoffed. "Max would never agree to this."

"Obviously you don't know Max as well as you think you do," Dee said.

There was a sudden chill in the air as Diane scowled at her; any suggestion that she wasn't a perfect mother was one of her hottest buttons. "I thought I asked you to stay out of this!" she said tartly.

"You did. And I won't," Dee said, ignoring her husband, now squeezing so hard he was restricting blood flow. "I was watching too, and I can't for the life of me figure out how you got a 'striptease' out of Alex Whitman taking his shirt off. He even had an undershirt on, for God's sake. How does removing a single item of clothing constitute a 'striptease'? How does that make this place a 'strip joint'? Frankly, I think you owe Jeff an apology."

"I should be able to hold a child's birthday party without fear of seeing something inappropriate," Diane said stoutly.

"There is no 'right to never see anything you consider inappropriate', and Isabel is no longer a child," Dee retorted. "She's 18, or just about. Hell, she can go to a real strip joint if she wants to, where they take off way more than a shirt. I can't believe you're carrying on like this over a party prank!"

Diane launched into an invective about police costumes and innuendo while Jeff's gaze swung back and forth between the two warring woman before coming to rest on Anthony, who shrugged. Dee felt bad about Jeff winding up in the middle, but this latest huff fest of Diane's was just too much. It was one thing to complain to Philip, whom she had been unable to reach by phone, contenting herself with a terse voicemail, but quite another entirely to accuse poor Jeff of running a "strip joint" because mild-mannered Alex had removed his shirt. Granted he may have removed more than that if Diane hadn't stopped him, but why speculate? No sense bringing up that red thong.

"Diane, why don't we discuss this later," Anthony said crisply, cutting her off mid-diatribe. "I'm sure Jeff will look into it, you've already called Philip, and I'd hate to see you miss the rest of the party because of this one incident. Isabel will be opening her gifts soon, and you wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"

"Of course not," Diane answered, "but the gifts can wait a few minutes until I'm sure this has been settled."

"Suit yourself," Dee shrugged. "But keep in mind that for every minute you spend back here, they're all out there all by themselves. They could have had four stripteases in the time it's taking you to complain about one."

Diane looked startled, then scuttled back inside the cafe like someone was chasing her. "Was that necessary?" Anthony said wearily.

"Yes," Dee said. "Nothing was going to shut her up but duct tape or fear of a recurrence. She'll go patrol like some old nun, but that will keep her busy and out of Jeff's hair."

"Aw, it's okay," Jeff said. "It's not like she's the first irate customer I've ever had."

"No, just the loudest," Dee said. "And I'll bet the others were complaining about a strip of bacon, not a striptease."

"This is one for the books," Jeff admitted. "Did I hear you say it was Alex Whitman? The Alex Whitman? As in the computer geek?"

"The same," Dee said. "Which is one of the reasons it was so funny. Who would have thought?"

Jeff broke into a wide smile which would have driven Diane nuts. "Wow. Wish I'd seen that myself. Only so I'd know what she's upset about," he added quickly. "It's kind of hard to weigh in when I didn't see it. Oh...Courtney!" he called. "How's the cake going over?"

Courtney paused in the office doorway, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Great. Just great."

"Looks that way," Jeff said, noting the tray full of empty plates she was holding. "Thanks for working tonight. I'm sure Maria appreciated it."

"Oh, I'm sure," Courtney said.

"Why don't you go along, Jeff?" Dee suggested, lest he notice the avalanche of sarcasm in that last sentence. "Maybe you could have some kind of emergency come up that needs your undivided attention?"

"Got plenty of those," Courtney muttered.

"We'll try to keep Diane occupied," Anthony said hastily when Jeff gave Courtney a puzzled look. "It might be best if you stayed out of sight until she settles down."

"Jeff!" Diane called excitedly from the doorway, her earlier temper apparently forgotten. "Jeff, you have to come out here! Congresswoman Whitaker is here! Come meet her!"

Jeff hurried after Diane as Dee and Anthony exchanged glances and Courtney motioned them into the kitchen.

"Guess who came to dinner?" Courtney said sourly.

"Mind if I go strangle her?" Dee said darkly.

"She's not the worst of it," Courtney said. "They know. The rest of them, I mean. They know something's wrong."

"How?" Dee asked sharply.

"I'm not sure," Courtney admitted, "but I think it has something to do with the headaches Vilandra has been complaining about all night. She's having visions of Tess calling out for help."

"So they're making some kind of connection," Dee said.

Courtney shook her head. "This is different. Connections don't occur over that kind of distance, which might explain the headaches. Either Ava's stashed in the basement or the hybrids can connect over much greater distances than normal. Either way, we're screwed—Zan went to get the sheriff, and Rath went to look through Vanessa's office because Liz figured out she's watching her. Vilandra wants to go look for Tess, and even though Zan talked her out of it for now, I'm betting we don't have long before she flips him the proverbial bird and goes anyway. Jesus, this is like herding cats!"

"Well, if she's having visions of Tess in trouble, of course she wants to do something about it," Dee said.

"But she can't!" Courtney exclaimed. "As soon as Vanessa figures out Brivari's not coming, she'll go right back to wherever she's got Ava, and if Vilandra's there, she'll grab her too. Brivari ordered me to keep them here, and now they're scattering to the winds! I tried throwing them off; I said nobody wanted Tess, I even made nasty comments about her hair and her boobs, but no dice."

"How did you hear all this?" Anthony asked.

"They're worried, so they're being sloppy," Courtney answered. "They keep kicking me out, but I heard all I needed to hear. What the hell are we going to do?"

"Go on inside, both of you," Dee said. "I'll take care of this."

"Where are you going?" Anthony asked.

Dee shrugged on her coat. "To the one place Isabel will go if she decides to leave."





**********************************************************





Maria peeked through the swinging door into the back. "The coast is clear," she whispered. "Come on."

Her head pounding, Isabel slipped through the door into the back of the cafe, or tried to, anyway—one did not precisely "slip" anywhere in the dress she was wearing. The headaches were so bad now that they sometimes blurred her vision, but only her real vision; her visions of Tess crying out for help, ironically, were clearer than ever. Something was very, very wrong, and there was no way in hell she was going to sit around partying while Max and Michael were out investigating. Did they really think so little of her that they expected her to ignore what she was seeing and go on playing birthday girl? She'd be insulted if she didn't suspect that, deep down, they were really just trying to protect her. I'm not the one who needs protecting, she thought as she followed Maria out the back door to where she'd parked her car...and hauled up short when Maria came to an abrupt halt.

"Well, if it isn't the birthday girl," Grandma Dee said as she leaned on the hood of Maria's Jetta.

"Grandma!" Isabel exclaimed. "What...what are you doing here?"

"It's noisy in there," Grandma answered. "I needed some peace and quiet. Leaving so soon?"

"I...need something from home," Isabel lied hurriedly. "I'm coming right back."

"I'll drive you," Grandma offered.

"No!" Isabel said quickly. "I mean, no thanks," she amended hastily. "Maria's taking me."

"If I take you, Maria can stay," Grandma noted.

"I don't mind," Maria chimed in. "Really, it's okay."

"That's sweet of you, but completely unnecessary," Grandma said crisply. "Come, Isabel. Let's take you home so you can get whatever it is you need."

There followed an awkward silence. Maria looked back and forth between the two of them as Grandma Dee waited for Isabel to follow her. "Maria," Isabel said finally, "could you give us a minute?"

Maria retreated to the driver's side of the car while Isabel gestured to her grandmother to join her. "Grandma, what's going on?" Isabel whispered. "You've never been into 'peace and quiet', and why would you be looking for that right in front of Maria's car? Why not your own car? No offense, but you're just not a very good liar."

"Oh, none taken," Grandma said lightly. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken, dear—I'm a spectacular liar, much better than you just were. I'm just not trying."

Isabel heart began to pound almost as hard as her head. "You heard something," she said in a brittle voice. "What did you hear?"

"Something about Tess being missing," Grandma said. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure," Isabel said truthfully. "I'll know when I get there."

"Then I'll come with you," Grandma said.

"You can't," Isabel said. "It's not safe."

"But it is safe for you and Maria?"

"No," Isabel whispered. "It's not safe for anybody."

"Then don't go," Grandma said firmly.

"I have to," Isabel said. "I don't have a choice."

"Then take Max with you," Grandma said, "or Michael, or the sheriff, or somebody. Just don't go alone."

"They're not here," Isabel said in an anguished voice, "and they're on the wrong track. I can find her. I hear…" She paused, trying to get past the catch in her voice. "I don't want to lie to you, Grandma, but I can't tell you everything. All I can say is that I'm tired of feeling helpless. Everyone tells me to stay back, to be safe, but that just makes me feel like a doll on a shelf, like some kind of ornament, and...and yes, I know how ironic that statement is when I'm dressed like this," she finished ruefully. "But I mean it. I can't just be someone that things happen to any more, and I won't stand by and do nothing while things happen to someone else just so I can be 'safe'. Because 'safe' isn't just about me—if the people I love aren't safe, I'm not safe either. You know what I mean, don't you?"

Grandma's expression softened. "Of course I do. I just wish there was some way I could make this better for you."

"You can," Isabel said. "I asked Liz to cover for me, but you'll do it better, especially with Mom. Just hold them off until I get back."

Grandma considered that for a long moment before nodding. "All right, dear. Good luck."

"So...you're not going to tell?" Isabel said.

"If you have to go, then you have to go," Grandma said. "I just wish you didn't have to."

Isabel's eyes brimmed with tears. "Me too." She planted a kiss on her grandmother's cheek. "Thanks, Grandma. I'll be back. I promise."

"You'd better be," Grandma warned, squeezing her hand, "or I'll be very cross with the universe."

Isabel gave her a shaky smile. "Then the universe better behave itself if it knows what's good for it."

One final squeeze, and Grandma disappeared back inside the Crashdown. I don't want to let go, Isabel thought as her grandmother's hand slipped out of hers. She would absolutely love to take her grandmother with her, to have someone so completely on her side, but in this case, Max was right—telling her put her in danger. Telling her would be selfish. They couldn't afford to let anyone else in not only because it was dangerous for themselves, but because it was dangerous for whoever learned their secret.

"That's it?" Maria demanded. "She's just going to let you go? She's not going to blow us in?"

"Of course not," Isabel said.

Maria shook her head as Isabel climbed into the car. "Grandmothers," she said wonderingly "Best thing ever."

"Not 'grandmothers'," Isabel corrected. "My grandmother. Let's go."





*********************************************************





Chaves County Electric Power Facility






Finally, Brivari thought only five minutes after commencing a search at his sixth target, an abandoned power plant halfway to the middle of nowhere. This single Warder business was damnably slow, but he'd finally hit the jackpot in the form of a faint moaning sound in what was unmistakably a female voice. Ava was here; now he just had to find her…

Twin pricks of light shone in the distance. Peering through a grimy window, Brivari swore silently—what the hell was she doing here? Now he had two of them to rescue, precisely what he did not need. Had he not made that clear? Couldn't Courtney follow a simple directive? How hard could it be to keep a famously vain princess at her own birthday party?



~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 35 on Sunday, August 23.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





September 17, 2000, 7:40 p.m.,

Crashdown Cafe






Courtney piled dirty plates onto the tray as she scanned the room, every nerve on edge. So this was what high blood pressure felt like, this throbbing sensation in your temples like your head was about to explode. They had only twenty minutes to go until DEFCON 2, human-speak for the brink of nuclear war. Vanessa had been mingling all Congress-like and studiously ignoring her, which was fortunate given that she hadn't needed to pretend that she didn't know Vanessa had trussed up the queen like a hog at a state fair or that Brivari was supposed to show, but wouldn't. That suited her just fine, but as she hefted her tray and headed into the back, she noted a curious lack of pieces in play—no Vanessa, no Dee, and most alarming of all, no Vilandra. Most of the gifts remained on the table, gaily wrapped and unopened. Hadn't she gone for some aspirin? How long did it take to pop a couple of pills? She's trying to leave, Courtney thought grimly, pushing through the door into the back. Thank goodness Dee would be there to intercept her…or not, she amended as the back door opened, and Dee stepped inside.

"Well?" Courtney demanded. "Where is she?"

"Gone," Dee replied.

Courtney's eyes bulged. "Gone? Gone where?"

"To find Tess, I imagine."

"But why? You were supposed to stop her!"

"I tried," Dee said. "But there was a wrinkle, and in the end, I decided it was better that she go."

"Shit!" Courtney exclaimed. "Holy shit! Now Vanessa will have both of them!"

"Vanessa has nothing at the moment because Vanessa is here," Dee reminded her. "And Isabel seems to think she can find Tess."

"So what?" Courtney exclaimed. "There's a Royal Warder out there looking for her! Isn't that enough? Because it sure as hell should be."

"Exactly," Dee answered. "There is a Warder looking for her, a single individual, and he doesn't know where to look."

"He narrowed it down," Courtney argued. "Something about Vanessa's cell signal."

"My impression was that Isabel could do better. Look, this is a new game," Dee went on as Courtney made a strangling sound. "There aren't two of them any more, so when crises arise, and God knows they will, they'll be more compromised than usual. The kids have skills of their own, skills everyone will need now that there's only one Warder. However fast Brivari tries to move, there's still only one of him, and Isabel seems to have information he lacks, which makes sense; we know they're more powerful than their Warders, just inexperienced. If Isabel can find Tess faster, shouldn't she try? Doesn't Tess deserve that?" She paused. "It's time we considered bringing the kids into this. Perhaps we should tell them the truth."

"Oh, God," Courtney said faintly, one hand to her mouth. "You didn't...you didn't tell them about me, and—"

"I didn't tell her anything," Dee said. "Technically. And she didn't tell me anything either. Technically."

" 'Technically'?" Courtney said incredulously. "What the hell is 'technically'? It's just a wuss word for 'I spilled'! You can't just unilaterally decide to wise up the hybrids—that's not your call, or mine."

"I didn't," Dee said, "but frankly, if Brivari's not here to make a call, I'll make it for him based on the situation at the time. We may as well get used to it because this is going to happen more and more now that he's alone."

"He's gonna kill me!" Courtney exclaimed, growing more agitated by the minute. "He told me to keep them here, and they're all gone, every single one of them! Not to mention that when he hears I tried drumming up support for the treaty, he's gonna go all 'high treason' on my ass. He already knows I talked to Vanessa about it, so right there I'm collaborating with the enemy. And here I thought I'd die when my husk gave out."

"He's not going to kill you," Dee said calmly. "I'm the one who let Isabel go, so that's on me. And I supported your support of the treaty, so if he wants to go on a killing spree, he'll have to include me. Which would be supremely stupid of him given that the last thing he needs are fewer allies."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Courtney demanded. "Just sit here and wait for the Grim Reaper, otherwise known as the Grim Warder?"

"Just work the party like you were always going to," Dee said. "The most helpful thing we can do now is keep Vanessa here as long as possible. If she's here, she can't be wherever the rest of them are. I'll go see what's what, and you just keep your eyes open."

"Right," Courtney muttered. "Great. Wonderful." Dee went back into the cafe as she picked up the tray and slammed into the kitchen, muttering profanities not quite under her breath. One could only hope Mr. Parker wasn't around, but since the cake had been served, the kitchen was quiet…

"Such language. How terribly unprofessional."

Courtney drew up short. Vanessa leaned against a kitchen counter, a compact in one hand, lipstick in another, carefully refreshing her pout. "I hope you don't mind that I've snubbed you," Vanessa went on, apparently missing the storm cloud gathering on Courtney's face. "It wouldn't be in our best interests for anyone to know we—"

Crash! The rest of that sentence was cut off as the tray hit the counter and Courtney grabbed her by the shoulders and shook—hard. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" she demanded furiously, the lipstick flying out of Vanessa's hand to land on the tray. "Kidnapping the queen? And here you claimed you were worried about the treaty. Well, worry no more, Einstein, because you just did the one thing sure to kill it! And here I thought you actually had a few working brain cells. My bad!"

Courtney released her with one final shake for good measure as Vanessa stared at her in astonishment, her coif mussed, one earring askew. "Well!" she said after a long moment, fishing her lipstick out of a half-finished glass of cola. "News travels fast. That settles who your contact is, and he must have you on a very short leash if you've already heard—"

Slap!

Vanessa's head whipped sideways, one hand to her cheek. "Don't fuck with me, you little shit," Courtney ground out. "We had a chance, a real chance, and then it all went to hell. Gosh, why does that ring a bell? Oh, yes! The same thing happened at home; we had a real chance and then it all went to hell, and for the same reason—you!"

"So you think I singlehandedly engineered the coup," Vanessa said, carefully shifting her jaw. "I'm good, honey, but even I'm not that good."

"You know what I mean!" Courtney exclaimed. "Khivar and his minions, and like it or not, you're a minion. And you learned from the best because history is repeating itself—you've screwed up again! This is the one thing Brivari will never forgive, the one thing sure to kill even the best chance at a treaty, and I shouldn't need to point out that we never had the best chance. Where is she?"

"You expect me to tell you that?" Vanessa demanded, still nursing her swollen cheek. "She's my leverage, my collateral. She's the one thing that will make him listen."

"There you are!"

Two heads turned. Dee had entered the kitchen, and Vanessa hurriedly patted her hair, no doubt expecting to meet a constituent. "This must look odd," she confessed in her best congressional voice as Courtney glared at her, "but I do like to keep up with all the voters, including the working class, like this waitress here. We were just—"

"Stop talking," Dee ordered. "What did you do with Tess?"





*********************************************************






If anyone had asked Dee Proctor what her worst trait was, she wouldn't have needed to think about it: Impatience. She was routinely impatient with other people, be they slow, obtuse, selfish, or just plain pig-headed. It was safe to say her impatience was now at its zenith as a mercifully quiet summer had given way to disaster. Jaddo's death would rock two worlds in ways none of them could fathom at the moment, not the least of which involved her granddaughter foraging into the night to correct a situation which should never have happened. To say she was pissed about that was putting it lightly. Having failed to find Vanessa in the cafe, she'd followed the raised voices. Now she fully intended to raise her own.

Vanessa looked a bit the worse for wear, her impeccable suit no longer impeccable and a smear of lipstick to one side of her mouth, while Courtney was doing a masterful impression of a deer in the headlights that rivaled Jeff Parker's earlier effort. "I...don't know what you're talking about," Vanessa said. "Who is 'Tess'? I don't—"

"Drop the act," Dee interrupted. "You're so full of it, the whites of your eyes are turning brown. Or the whites of your husk."

There followed a swap, of sorts, as Courtney relaxed a bit, the line having now been well and truly crossed, while Vanessa assumed the role of the startled deer. "My...what? I'm not sure I—"

"Allow me to refresh your memory," Dee said. "You're an Argilian. You work for Khivar, who used Vilandra to murder her brother, the king, and steal his throne. You've made a right royal mess of things here and there, and now you've just upped the ante by kidnapping the queen, ruining even the tiniest chance the treaty had to end this mess and restore peace. Is this ringing any bells, or do dying husks confer dementia on their wearers?"

The corners of Courtney's mouth twitched as Vanessa's set in a thin line. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "I've never seen you before in my life! How do you know so much about me? Who is this?" she said to Courtney. "Why does she know so much?"

"Because," Courtney said slowly, "when the king's ship crashed back in '47, it landed on property belonging to her neighbor."

Vanessa stared at her in silence for a very long time before raising a finger, shaking it. "You," she said wonderingly. "You must be the human ally. We always knew they had one, but we thought it was someone in law enforcement, or the military, or the government, or someone...important," she finished in a derisive tone which made it clear she found Dee to be nothing of the sort.

"Check, check, and check," Dee said. "I am one of their human allies. They've amassed quite the collection, in every category you named and beyond."

"Oh, of course they have," Vanessa said bitterly. "You don't know what they did. You don't know who you're supporting. You don't know—"

"I know all I need to know right now, which is that you've taken the Queen of Antar hostage. I sincerely hope you have your affairs in order, because I doubt you'll ever see another sun rise on this world or any other. If you hand her over, I might be able to convince Brivari to give you a painless death, something Jaddo didn't have."

"For the last time, I didn't kill him!" Vanessa exclaimed. "Why would I do that when I was working on a treaty with him? And why am I even discussing this with some human? What makes you think you can get me anything? Talk about delusions of grandeur!"

"Brivari will listen to her way before he'll listen to me," Courtney noted. "Or pretty much anyone."

Vanessa's gaze swung back to Dee, studied her. "Is that so?" she said finally. "To each his own. Although never in a million years would I have thought that would be some dumpy old woman. No offense," she added with a cold smile. "Whatever floats his boat."

"Oh, I'm right there with you," Dee assured her. "Never in a million years would I have thought some dessicated old husk with no power would have floated Jaddo's. There truly is no accounting for taste."

Vanessa's nostrils flared as the barbs hit home, the tension in the kitchen rising abruptly. " 'No power'?" Vanessa snapped. "I'll have you know that I have the ear of Khivar's Second, which is why Jaddo chose me to make a treaty with—"

"Oh, shut it," Dee interrupted impatiently. "You don't have Nicholas's ear, you have his dick, and Jaddo 'chose' you because he was screwing you or, more precisely, you were screwing him. That appears to be the only power you have—between your legs. But don't feel bad," she went on as Vanessa's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're no different than lots of human women who've slept their way into the orbits of powerful men because they couldn't get there on their own. After all, they do say it's the journey that counts, not the destination."

Courtney raised an eyebrow as Vanessa turned several interesting shades of purple. "Now," Dee continued briskly, "I'll ask you again...where is Tess?"

"As if I'd tell you!" Vanessa exclaimed. "She's my collateral, my—"

"Death sentence," Dee finished, "and a self-imposed one at that."

"Brivari agreed to meet with me," Vanessa argued. "If he kills me, he'll never find her."

"So it hasn't occurred to you that he could meet with you, promise you the moon, then kill you after you'd handed her over?" Dee said. "But of course it has," she went on when Vanessa's expression became cagey. "You have no intention of handing her over whether he meets with you, or marries you, or anything in between because the moment you do that, you've lost your so-called 'advantage'. And if a 'dumpy old woman' has figured that out, might not the King's Warder?"

"Listen to you," Vanessa said disdainfully, "tossing around buzzwords like 'the King's Warder'. You know nothing, nothing. You've never even seen my world, so how dare you act like you know what you're talking about?"

"I don't need to see it," Dee retorted. "You've successfully fucked it up beyond all recognition, and news of a failure that massive travels fast—and far."

"My, but aren't you both into profanity tonight?" Vanessa said dryly. "Blather all you want, but we're still in power."

"Not for long," Dee said. "It's no secret that the vast majority of people on Antar and your sister planets hate Khivar and love Zan. There's a reason everyone went crazy when he accessed that message from home. How do you think they'll react when they discover you personally tanked any chance for an armistice by kidnapping his wife? The treaty limited the price your race had to pay for the coup, but the outcry from this will do no such thing. They already want Zan back, but now...now he'll be able to park himself on his throne without firing a shot. The only shots fired will be at you."

For the first time, Vanessa's veneer of invulnerability wavered. "Tell me where she is," Dee insisted, "and we might be able to change that. Do the right thing for once, and I'll—"

The kitchen door opened abruptly, and Diane peered inside. "Mom?" she said quizzically. "Oh...hello," she added self-consciously when she saw Vanessa. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, but I can't find Izzie. Do you know where she is?"

Damn it! "Check the bathroom," Dee said through gritted teeth, cursing Diane's timing. "She's probably fixing her make-up."

"Already did," Diane said. "She's not in any of the usual places, but she must be here somewhere. I'll keep looking."

Diane disappeared, the door swinging in her wake as a look of cold horror spread across Vanessa's face, her arm whipping up to consult a large wristwatch. "You bitch," she breathed furiously. "You bitch!" She walked straight up to Dee. "This is over, do you hear me? Over. No more talking. The war's back on."

"Of course it is," Dee said. "And you're the one who restarted it. Congratulations."

Vanessa stared at her a moment in stony silence before stalking out. "Okay, what...what just happened there?" Courtney said finally. "Did you really just waltz in here and out Vanessa and yourself? Why would you do that?"

"To stall," Dee said. "It was time for Brivari to show up, and we both know he's not coming. And if she realized Isabel was gone, she might not even wait for him. I was trying to keep her busy so she wouldn't look at the clock. Damn Diane and her pathological need to know where her children are at all times!"

Courtney glanced at the clock, which read 8:15 p.m. "You bought them 15 minutes."

Dee nodded heavily. "Let's hope it's enough. Now we wait."

"Crap," Courtney muttered. "I need a cigarette."





**********************************************************





"You're awfully quiet."

Valenti's eyes flickered, pulling him out of the trance in which he'd been driving ever since they'd left Grant Sorenson's motel room. "Yeah, I'm...thinking."

"About where Tess is?" Max asked.

"Among other things."

"Like what?"

Valenti smiled faintly as a memory flared of a toddler Kyle repeating, "Why?" until he thought he'd pull his hair out. "Like what made you suspect Sorenson, Max? Is this just about him finding Pierce's bones? Because I honestly believe that was just an accident."

"I told you, he showed up at the party bleeding," Max answered. "That could mean he'd been struggling with someone, and we both know Tess is the type to leave someone bleeding."

"That she is," Valenti agreed. "The part I'm interested in is where he showed up at the party, but didn't stay. Why'd he leave?"

A wave of discomfort wafted from the passenger seat. "He wasn't invited to the party," Max said. "He apparently had a date with Isabel tonight. That's why she was all dressed up."

"Ah," Valenti said knowingly. "And you don't like that."

"Of course I don't like that. It's always dangerous to let someone in. You know that."

"I do," Valenti allowed. "But isn't this a case of the pot calling the kettle black? It's tough to argue you didn't let Liz Parker in."

"That was different," Max insisted. "I was saving her life."

"Fair point," Valenti said, "but what about Maria? What about Alex? Were you saving their lives?"

Max was quiet for a moment. "Maria found out because Liz told her," he said finally. "And Alex found out because he saved mine."

"Oh? I never heard about this."

"He...donated...some blood," Max said. "When I was in the car accident, they drew blood, and our blood gives us away. So Liz talked Alex into giving us a blood sample, and we switched it with mine."

Valenti let out a long, low whistle. "That must have taken some doing. Not just switching the blood, but getting it in the first place."

"Liz told him it was drugs," Max said. "She didn't tell him the truth until that night you locked both of them up for being at that party at the old soap factory. Alex didn't believe her right away."

And I would have, Valenti thought, chagrined to once again encounter his earlier behavior. More than once, he'd raked Alex Whitman over the coals trying to get something out of him, but Whitman hadn't uttered a peep. As if giving blood wasn't evidence enough of the depth of his loyalty, he'd also given something even more precious—his silence.

"We don't blame you, you know. For the way you treated us," Max went on. "You didn't know. I mean, you kind of did, but you didn't know enough to see the whole picture."

Valenti winced. "So what's my excuse now?"

"Sorry?"

The light ahead was red. Valenti stopped, one hand massaging his temple. "I just broke into a man's room without a warrant. I rifled through his stuff without any legal premise. I ignored something that's always been one of the most important things to me—the rule of law, the fact that we're all equal in the eyes of the law, whether we're bus drivers or presidents. I'm not just doing what I did back before I 'knew', I'm doing worse things. So if not knowing was my excuse before, what's my excuse now?"

"And how would getting a warrant have gone, exactly?" Max asked. " 'This kid I know is having visions of one of her friends in trouble, so I need to search this guy's room'? How well do you think that would have gone over?"

"We didn't exactly have probable cause," Valenti agreed.

"The laws you're trying to follow weren't written for these situations," Max said. "You're not breaking the law, you're...reinterpreting it."

Valenti shook his head. "That's what Hitler said. And Mussolini, and every other dictator you can name. I'm sworn to uphold the law whether I agree with it or not. I don't get to pick and choose; that's what dirty cops do. Sorenson has a right to privacy."

"And Tess has a right to live," Max argued. "You couldn't follow the normal procedures, not without putting us in a kind of danger we're all too familiar with. You didn't just casually ignore the rules; you did it because the other choices were worse.

"Keep trying," Valenti muttered.

"Let me ask you this—if this had been a normal missing person's report, would you have done things differently? Would you have gotten a warrant before talking to Grant?"

"Of course," Valenti said.

"Here's the thing, sheriff—laws are written for ordinary circumstances, not extraordinary ones. Without extraordinary circumstances, you tow the line. With extraordinary circumstances, you do what you have to do to protect as many people as possible. That's not being a dirty copy, that's being a good cop. And the fact that you're questioning this, that you keep challenging yourself to prove that what you did was justified, makes you an even better cop. Dirty cops don't bother."

The light turned green. Valenti stared at his passenger for a moment before starting forward. "How did you get to be so smart?"

Max smiled faintly. "Getting murdered might have had something to do with it."

His phone rang. "Hey, Michael," Max said. "What'd you find out—what? Michael, slow down! Just slow down and tell us where you are."





*********************************************************






Gripping the steering wheel so hard it left indentations on her hands, Vanessa pushed the accelerator to the floor as her car barreled down the highway. The shocked faces of the human drivers she passed would have been amusing if she'd been in a mood to be amused, which she most certainly was not. She'd been stood up. She'd been lied to. She'd been humiliated. She'd been duped. If it were only a Royal Warder doing the lying and duping, she would have felt much better; Royal Warders were worthy adversaries, if nothing else. But this time her undoing had come in the form of an old lady, a human so unremarkable that she'd completely missed her presence at the party. No wonder they'd never located the Warders' human allies; she could safely say that no one would have expected such an unimpressive package to pack such an impressive punch. That unremarkable old lady had successfully taunted her for a full quarter hour past the appointed meeting time, 15 precious minutes she could have used to relocate her prize after she'd realized Brivari wasn't coming. Instead she'd spent that time locked in combat with someone who'd picked a fight with her to keep her blathering, to delay the moment she realized she'd been had. And it worked, Vanessa thought grimly. If Isabel's mother hadn't appeared, she'd probably be there still, trading barbs with what obviously wasn't just any little old lady.

Isabel. Vanessa's grip steadied when she remembered that she'd come away from this little adventure with more than just egg on her face. Now that she knew who was who, she'd studied the princess carefully and found little difference from her earlier incarnation. Beautiful, empty-headed, easily annoyed, like she'd been with that little alien doll Vanessa had thoughtfully left on the gift table...no, Vilandra did not appear to be much different than she used to be. Good news for Khivar, no doubt, but a bit of a let down in general; weren't second chances supposed to be all about improvement? Hadn't the Royal Four been given a second chance few received? Ava certainly seemed to have made the most of it, holding out for an impressive length of time before succumbing to the pain. Vilandra appeared to have no such fortitude, but no matter; that vapid piece of fluff was now the only way out. The treaty was dead, shot through the heart by Jaddo's death and Brivari's betrayal. It was back to square one, with the only way home the original way, the one paved by a princess and the Granolith. If she could score at least one of those, she could still come out of this on top. Tires screeched as she brought the car to an abrupt halt on the back side of the power plant and hurried inside, only to find her prize missing.

Damn it! Vanessa swore, pounding through the hallways like grim death, not caring if anyone heard her because the Warder who had taken Ava most certainly could if he was still here. How had he found her? Their phones were supposed to be untraceable, and there was now only one Warder, a far cry from the swarms who would have descended on an abducted royal on Antar. But perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. No one wanted the queen; Vilandra was the real prize, and now that she knew who she was, obtaining her shouldn't be difficult. Just wave a pretty dress or piece of jewelry, and she'd no doubt follow like a slavering hound dog…

Voices caught her attention, or rather a voice, urgent and breathless. Hurrying along a catwalk into the next room, Vanessa looked down on the most astonishing sight.

"Put your arm around me. C'mon, put...hang on, Tess. Please hang on! It won't be long now."

Vanessa watched, dumbfounded, as Antar's famously self-centered princess heaved its queen to her feet and literally dragged her across the floor. The gorgeous party dress was now stained and shredded, the heels missing, the carefully coifed hair hanging in sweaty tendrils that would never have been tolerated in that other life. How on earth had she found her? Connections didn't work over that kind of distance, at least not for ordinary people. But these were no ordinary people; these were enhanced hybrids, a new breed entirely. And they're mine, Vanessa thought with supreme satisfaction. How she would love to see the look on that bitchy old woman's face when she realized she'd failed, that she now had two hostages, the main prize and a spare for good measure. Reaching into her pocket, she fingered her trithium generator as Vilandra used her powers to unlock a door. No; not yet. If she blocked their powers now, she'd block her own as well, and she seriously doubted the princess would be a threat. While it did appear she needed to amend her earlier thought about second chances, Vilandra was still Vilandra. History usually repeated itself, and if not, well...there was clearly no Warder here to prevent her pressing the point.





**********************************************************




Chaves County Electric Power Facility—Plant #2





Ever since the pods had disgorged their contents, one of the most longstanding arguments between Dee and the Warders had been the disposition of the resulting hybrids—were they they same people they had been, or different? Dee had always insisted they were all now different people, the same in some ways, perhaps, yet still different. Brivari secretly believed she had a point, but still clung to the notion that they were either basically the same or could become so because he had so much invested in that outcome. Jaddo had been worse, refusing to even contemplate the suggestion that their Wards were not everything they used to be. What a shock it had been, then, to learn that it had been Jaddo who had ultimately confronted the question of what would happen if the hybrids never became themselves again and carved a compromise in the treaty he'd supposedly given his blessing to. A completely unacceptable compromise, of course, but remarkable considering the source. It made one wonder what he'd say now, as the hybrid he'd always hated proved once and for all that Dee was right.

Brivari's fingers tapped impatiently on the catwalk railing as, several feet below, Vilandra half carried, half dragged Ava a few more feet. As inconvenient and inexplicable as it had been having the princess find her way here, he hadn't really thought she would present much of an obstacle. The Vilandra he knew would never have appeared in the first place, and on the off chance that she had, would have dithered inside the doorway, put off by the darkness and dirt. When one lived in a palace, one had people to do these kinds of things for you. Perhaps that had been the problem because now that Vilandra did not live in a palace, she was behaving in ways he never would have expected, plunging into the search for her sister-in-law with a determination he was familiar with, but had never seen applied in quite this way. It had quickly become apparent that he wouldn't be able to locate Ava and remove her as easily as he had hoped; the hybrid who was also on the hunt had senses as good as his, even if unpracticed. Even after he'd managed to find the queen, he'd had to stop several times when the princess approached, although it was still something of a puzzle as to how she was locating Ava so quickly. It was stop and go until the arrival of Vanessa had made it more stop than go, and Vilandra had caught up. She was now valiantly trying to carry Ava to safety, unaware that her abductor approached. Dee and Courtney were failing spectacularly tonight.

"Put your arm around me," Vilandra begged. "C'mon, put...hang on, Tess. Please hang on! It won't be long now."

It certainly won't, Brivari thought heavily. How to perform a rescue and an execution without revealing himself? Vanessa would die here, that was certain; this was the perfect place to dispose of her, and if she escaped, she would run back to Copper Summit, which was fortified against Covari. Battered and bruised, Ava was largely unaware of what was happening. But Vilandra...the princess he saw now, stubbornly dragging Ava along, what would she do if she realized there was another "Nasedo" out there? More importantly, what would her brother do? There was a reason one of them had stayed in the shadows and that reason was as valid as it had ever been, but if the hybrids got wind of the fact that another Warder existed, he had little doubt they would not rest until they found him. And then…

Movement across the room caught his eye. Vanessa was following the pair below, ultimately catching up with them when Vilandra stopped to rest. What followed was a seriously slanted recitation of the events which had led them here and which obviously rang no bells with the horrified princess. You left out the part where Khivar lied to her, Brivari thought darkly as Vanessa spun a tale of willing betrayal and predicted a repeat. Judging by the disheveled and filthy princess with the torn dress and defiant look in her eye, Brivari doubted it. Had she always had this much mettle? Had she simply not found herself in a situation where it could be tested? Perhaps if they'd survived Khivar's coup, they would have seen a very different person when she realized how she'd been duped.

But he digressed. Story time was over, replaced by tell-me-where-the-Granolith-is. Vilandra had no idea what a Granolith was, so Vanessa was out of luck, but that didn't stop her from hurling the queen against the wall. Enough, Brivari thought firmly. The princess and the queen were trapped, Vanessa was losing patience, and he had no idea what manner of reinforcements she'd called in. The time for lurking in the shadows was over.

Crash!

Brivari gaped right along with Vanessa at the sight of Vilandra grabbing Ava and jumping through a window, their landing on the floor below softened only slightly because he'd been so startled, he'd only managed to apply the brakes at the last minute. They appeared unhurt, but Vanessa took off, leaving him swearing under his breath. Shit. If Jaddo were here, they could have split up, with him guarding their Wards and Jaddo happily pursuing the enemy. But Jaddo wasn't here, there was only one Warder, and that one must follow their Wards. Everyone converged outside when Vilandra's tired arms overwhelmed her admittedly courageous retreat and she had to set Ava down. Whitaker grabbed an electrical cable, sparks flying as she tore it free.

"Isabel!"

Brivari's heart sank. Zan was wrenching the gate open, with Rath not far behind; not only would Vilandra witness his intervention, her brother would also. But there was nothing for it; Vanessa had to go, and she had to go now. Perhaps he could make it look like the cable had backfired on her? Perhaps they'd buy that and not look for further explanation?

A moment later, the decision was taken out of his hands.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 36 on Sunday, September 6.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!






CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX





September 17, 2000, 10 p.m.

Valenti residence






The house was dark and empty when Kyle unlocked the door and tossed his keys on the little table which bore the dings of many years of Valenti key-tossing. The birthday party had become something of a bust what with the birthday girl's absence, her mother's presence, and the complete absence of any of his friends from school. The Evans' kids didn't travel in the same social circles, being nerds and all, so he'd found himself surrounded by their fellow nerds without a jock in sight. It must be something of a milestone in alien-human relations if he was more put out that they were nerds than aliens, although there was a case to be made that nerds were kind of aliens in their own right. Eager to be a good party participant, he'd made an effort to consort with the nerds and discovered that many were red-blooded American males who sympathized with his current predicament, that of being overrun by female-dom. If only Isabel's mother hadn't overheard one of his red-blooded American male remarks and started watching him like a hawk, seriously cramping his style conversation-wise. Nerds or no nerds, what else was there to talk about besides sex and sports? Desperate for a familiar face, he'd strayed into Alex Whitman's wake, an Uber Nerd if ever there was one, but one he viewed with a good deal more respect after that strip tease. Unfortunately all Whitman wanted to do was obsess about said strip tease, and eventually Kyle's patience had run out.

"So why'd you do it?" he'd demanded. "What, did someone put a gun to your head?"

"Maria talked me into it!" Alex had wailed.

"Maria? Aren't you supposed to be smart, Whitman? Because any moron knows you don't let doodleheads like DeLuca talk you into anything."

"It was for Isabel, okay?" Whitman had whined. "I wanted to make her laugh."

"And you did," Kyle shrugged. "Mission accomplished."

"But her mother saw—"

"Oh, forget her mother," Kyle had said impatiently. "Are we supposed to go around genuflecting to her mother? This is the Crashdown, not the Church of the Holy Mother. If I wanted to…"

At some point during this diatribe, Whitman's eyes had drifted over his left shoulder and widened to the point where it looked painful. A couple of damning sentences later, Kyle had turned around to find a bemused Mrs. Evans behind him. The silence which followed was awkward indeed.

"I believe we met earlier," Mrs. Evans noted. "I'm Isabel's mom. And you are…?"

"Kyle," Kyle replied, his face on fire.

"Kyle...Valenti?"

Shit. Kyle's heart sank as he realized his father was going to hear about this, all of it. Representing the community, even indirectly, was a real pain in the ass. "Whoa, look at the time!" he exclaimed, sliding out of his chair. "It's a school night, so I really have to be going. It was a great party, Mrs. Evans. Thanks very much."

"Oh, do you have to go so soon?" Mrs. Evans said. "I'm sure Isabel will be back shortly."

"I'll see her tomorrow," Kyle said. "Gotta go. Homework to do!"

"Yeah, Kyle here is a real scholar," Whitman remarked with a perfectly straight face. "If he gets anything below an 'A', he gets really upset."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Mrs. Evans admonished as Kyle looked daggers at the grinning Whitman. "It's not as easy for some as for others. You should be proud of every 'B' you get."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kyle promised, privately noting that he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten anything above a "C" in anything but gym. "Thanks again."

And off he'd run, although his empty house was small comfort because it wasn't very empty any more even when there weren't any people in it. While he and Tess had reached a detente of sorts, that didn't mean he'd gotten used to having a girl around. It was downright amazing how one girl could strew her stuff so completely over every square inch of real estate. If it wasn't panties hanging on the shower rod, it was girly shampoo in the shower, bras draped over lampshades, weird food in the fridge, and neatly folded laundry. What self-respecting bachelor pad had neatly folded laundry? And don't even get him started on the bathroom. What is all this stuff? he wondered, not for the first time, as he gazed at the amazing array of products littering the bathroom counter. There was a flowery-smelling deodorant, some dangerous-looking stuff labeled "make-up remover" which smelled horrible and bore a closer resemblance to turpentine, a fancy kind of toothpaste, and lots and lots of cotton in the form of balls, squares, and swabs. For someone who thought cotton belonged in clothing, the presence of so much of it in the bathroom was confounding. Who needed that much fluffy stuff in here? What in blazes did she use it for? His father, for his part, had demurred on answers to these questions. "She doesn't ask about your stuff, so you don't ask about hers," was his take on the subject. Perhaps his dad was less puzzled because he'd been married. Maybe his mom had had similar crap in the bathroom. Maybe it was good that he was seeing this now, so that when the time finally came that he was this close to an actual girlfriend, some of it would look at least vaguely familiar. Maybe…

The hand that was hovering over the various gewgaws on the bathroom counter froze as it neared the Kryptonite of the female universe. Of all the mysteries surrounding women, and God knew they were endless, none loomed larger than the "period". Periods scared the shit out of guys, largely because they didn't understand what was happening. Oh, they knew the biology part, body getting ready to have a baby which never showed up, etc, etc. It was the next part, the bleeding, which sent them into a tailspin. The notion that you would bleed for several days and have to collect it in some kind of receptacle was just downright gross. And there was more—rumor had it that chicks didn't know exactly when the bleeding would start, which would explain why so many of his classmates would emit little bleeps of alarm and run to the bathroom, clutching books in front of them like a guy with a hard-on. Add the fact that it looked like it was painful and you had the reason why largely non-religious dudes could be found thanking God that they weren't dudettes.

Kyle's eyes drifted toward the bathroom door. He shouldn't be touching Tess's stuff, but the lure was too strong. He'd walked by these things many times in stores, but it wouldn't do for a member of the football team to be found sniffing out tampons in store aisles. He was all alone now; there would never be a better time. His hand gripped the box, hesitating for a second as though expecting alarms to go off. When none did, he lifted it, examining it with equal parts fascination and horror. Tampax Radiant! shrieked a line of flowery script, accompanied by pink flowers and little starbursts. Super Absorbent! screamed another. Unscented! blared a third. What did all that mean? Did these things come in "not absorbent" and "smelly"? And how did bleeding for several days between your legs qualify as "radiant"? Bolder now that no lightening bolt had struck him dead, he popped the top open and peered inside, his eyes widening. There lay the holy grail, what every teenaged guy wanted to get his hands on--the paper insert which came with these things. It was said that it was full of very, very interesting photographs, way better than anything in National Geographic…

His heart thumping, Kyle withdrew the tightly folded paper and unfolded it. Multiple columns of tiny print swam before his eyes, accompanied by no photographs, just diagrams which depicted something seriously painful. Were these the instructions? Why so many? How many instructions did one need to do...well...whatever one did with these things? Was it really that hard? Disappointed to find no interesting photos, he read the first bit of the top paragraph:

Many teens have found that starting with their knees slightly bent is a very comfortable way to reach the vaginal area…

After periods, the next subject which sent guys round the bend was lady parts. Kyle dropped the box and the insert like hot potatoes; the paper fluttered to the floor, and the contents of the box splayed all over the counter. "Shit," he muttered, retrieving the paper and cramming the gaily wrapped, cylindrical packages back into the box, each brightly colored like some kind of demented party favor. But they didn't go back neatly, and he was forced to rearrange them one by one until he was left with one lone outlier and no place to put it. Frustrated, he stood there with a wildly pink package in one hand and the box in the other, trying to decide what to do. If he crammed it back in there, she'd know for sure that someone had been messing with her stuff; if he didn't, would she miss one? Did chicks count these things? Wouldn't it be better to leave the box looking neat and orderly like it had been? But then what would he do with the one left over? Could he...should he…no! The thought was preposterous. But then again, he'd come this far…

Quickly, before he lost his nerve, Kyle ripped open the cheerful hot pink wrapper and withdrew a cheerful, hot pink plastic cylinder with a star-shaped cut-out on the fat end. What, they stuck plastic inside themselves? He turned it this way and that, puzzled because hot pink plastic didn't look even remotely capable of absorbing anything before accidentally pushing on the narrower end, causing a wad of white cotton—more cotton?—to burst from the fatter end and hang there, dangling from a long thin string. Kyle stared at it in horror, feeling vaguely nauseous. Guys had only one action opening down there, and the thought of stuffing this in there and retrieving it with this little string was...okay, now there was nothing the least bit vague about his nausea.

Slam!

Crap. His father was home! Kyle crammed the cotton wad into his pocket, jamming in the string and plastic housing. He couldn't throw any of this out here and risk that someone would find it, so he'd have to take it to school and dispose of it there. Leaving aside the question of how a guy disposed of a tampon in the men's room, he hurried out of the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at the apparition by his front door. Isabel Evans was a stunner who probably looked GQ-ready in a bathrobe, and the dress she'd been wearing tonight had caused every single pair of male eyes at the party to stray south, with the possible exception of her brother. Now that dress was filthy and torn, her face and hands black with what looked like grease, her hair a mess...and the wild look in her eyes fit the scene perfectly.

"Holy shit!" Kyle exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

"Long story," Isabel said tightly.

"I'll bet," Kyle agreed. "You look like something out of Carrie, just without the pig's…" His voice trailed off as the front door opened and his father appeared, his arms laden. "...blood," Kyle finished faintly as his father carried a bruised and bloodied Tess inside followed by Max Evans and Michael Guerin.

"What happened to her?" Kyle demanded.

"Later," Evans said.

"Move," Guerin said curtly.

"Move yourself," Kyle said crossly. "This is my house."

Guerin swung around with murder in his eyes, but Evans but a hand on his arm. "Michael," he said firmly. "Kyle's not the enemy."

"No, he just has a big mouth," Guerin said.

"There's one thing we have in common," Kyle retorted.

"Would you two stop chatting and come over here?" Valenti said.

Evans pulled the glowering Guerin away. "What the hell happened?" Kyle asked Isabel. "Is Tess okay?"

"I think so," Isabel answered. "The alien who killed Nasedo kidnapped her, and...and somehow, I heard her calling for help. That's why I was having those headaches at the party."

"Jesus," Kyle muttered.

"We found her at an old electrical plant," Isabel went on. "And then the kidnapper showed up, and...things got a little messy."

"More than a little," Kyle noted. "So where is this alien now?"

"Dead," Isabel said shortly.

"Dad killed it?" Kyle asked.

Isabel's jaw twitched as the trio huddled around Tess shifted. "Let's get her into the bedroom," Valenti said, hoisting Tess in his arms like she was weightless. Everyone followed, watching as his father gently deposited her on the bed, stretched her out, and nodded to Max. "This okay?"

"Yeah, that's good," Evans answered. "Thanks."

His father left, as did Guerin and Isabel. Kyle lingered in the doorway of his bedroom, watching the battered figure on his bed and, oddly, not caring that blood was seeping into his bedspread. "Is she awake?" he asked.

Evans half turned. "Not really. Probably just as well."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Yeah. In a bit."

Kyle pondered that for a moment. "You're going to fix her, aren't you? I mean, you can fix gunshots, so it makes sense you can fix this." He paused. "Can I watch?"

The words hung in the air as Evans stiffened. "I just...I didn't get to see how you do it," Kyle said, "and I was just curious…"

He stopped, suddenly aware that his request was making Evans acutely uncomfortable. "I'd...rather you didn't," Evans said awkwardly. "I don't like having an audience."

"Didn't you have one for Liz?" Kyle asked. "And me?"

Evans' eyes met his. "Yeah. That's how I know I don't like having an audience."

Kyle's eyes dropped. "Right. Got it. I guess I'll just...leave you to it, then."

Kyle closed the door, giving it that little extra tug you had to give it in order to get the door to latch. He waited outside for another minute, one ear to the door, but heard nothing; however Evans did what he did, he did it quietly. When he returned to the living room, his father was fidgeting, and Guerin and Isabel were having an argument.

"...have to go back," Guerin was saying. "It'll look weird if you don't."

"You expect me to just waltz back in there and party away like nothing happened?" Isabel demanded.

"Yes," Guerin said shortly. "Clean up, and go back."

"I said I needed to be alone," Isabel protested.

"Then be alone later," Guerin declared. "This is more important."

"Michael, there is no way I can process this in such a short time—"

"You don't have to," Guerin interrupted. "Party now, process later."

What a softy, Kyle thought dryly as he approached his father. "Dad? Isabel said something about Tess being kidnapped by an alien?"

"Yeah, that's right," his father answered.

"She said it was dead," Kyle went on. "Did you kill it?"

His father hesitated. Kyle's eyes darted to Guerin and Isabel, then to his bedroom door before coming to rest on his father. "Kyle, you have to understand, she was going to kill them," Valenti said urgently. "She was going to kill Tess and Isabel. It was kill or be killed. It was self defense. Everyone gets to defend themselves, no matter what species they are."

"Yeah, I get it," Kyle said. "Like Pierce was going to kill all of us."

"And did kill you," Valenti reminded him. "Guess no one's got a patent on monsters."

"Isabel's going back to the party," Guerin announced as Isabel looked daggers at him. "She needs a ride. Can you drive her, Sheriff?"

"I'm not going anywhere until I know Tess is okay," Valenti said.

"Neither am I," Guerin said. "What about you, Kyle? Can you take her back?"

"What's the magic word?" Kyle said innocently.

For a moment there, Kyle got the distinct impression that Guerin wanted to throttle him. "Can you please take her back?" he ground out after a moment.

"Why, certainly," Kyle said pleasantly. "Thanks for asking so politely."

Kyle left Guerin smoldering and his father rolling his eyes as he grabbed his keys and left the house, Isabel on his heels. "Okay, here's the deal," he said to her when they were out of earshot. "I was shamelessly eavesdropping; well, that and Guerin has a big mouth. I know you don't want to go back to the party. Where would you like to go?"

Isabel stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. You just had shit go down, and no two-bit thug should be telling you how to handle it."

"Okay, Michael can be difficult, but he is not a 'two-bit thug'," Isabel protested.

"Fine," Kyle shrugged. "Three-bit."

"Kyle—"

"Four?"

"Kyle!" Isabel exclaimed. "He's not a thug! I know he has a mouth on him, but he does care. He just doesn't express it very well."

"That just might qualify as the understatement of the year," Kyle noted.

"Maybe," Isabel sighed, "but he's right. I should go back like nothing's happened because no one can know anything happened."

"But it should be your decision," Kyle said. "Tell me where you'd like to go, and I'll take you there. Assuming I can reach it, anyway. Might be best if you pick somewhere on this planet."

Isabel glanced back toward the house. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Are you kidding?" Kyle said. "There are four aliens in my house, and two of you almost just got offed by another one. What could possibly be more secret than that?"

Isabel smiled faintly, then climbed into his car, stuffing her filthy dress into the footwell. "Then let's go."

"Where to?" Kyle asked.

"The desert. I'll show you where. But you can't tell anyone. Especially Michael."

Kyle smiled. "Now you're talkin'."





**********************************************************





Crashdown Cafe






"Goodness gracious, what is taking her so long?" Diane exclaimed in exasperation, waving her phone in the air. "At this rate, she'll miss her own party!"

"Problem?" Dee asked.

"Yes, there's a 'problem'," Diane said crossly, "otherwise known as my daughter. So she spilled something on her dress! What's the big deal?"

Dee glanced at Anthony; if only Isabel's dilemma were as simple as a soiled dress. "That girl has a closet full of dresses," Diane went on, "maybe not as fancy as the one she was wearing, but pretty darn close. Can't she just pick one and get back here?"

"Wait, you actually talked to her?" Dee said. "She answered her phone?"

"Of course she answered her phone," Diane said impatiently. "Why wouldn't she? She said she was trying to decide on a replacement dress, and she should be back soon. If you ask me, she should have been back sooner. This is most discourteous to her guests..."

Anthony pulled Dee aside as Diane continued her rant. "She answered the phone," Anthony whispered. "That's good news. If she has the luxury of answering the phone, things can't be too bad."

"It's more than that," Dee said. "You know how Diane has a radar for her kids. If Isabel had picked up mid-crisis, Diane would have sensed something was wrong. Whatever happened must have already happened." She crossed her arms, looked impatiently at her watch. "It's been over an hour. I hate waiting. I've never been good at waiting."

"Tell me about it," Anthony remarked.

"This is the part where you say, 'No, dear, you're wonderful at waiting'," Dee said tartly.

"Go find Courtney," Anthony advised. "Maybe she's willing to fib."

Dee gave him an annoyed look which was met with a characteristic twinkle. She had often been praised for being strong and steady in a crisis, but the real winner of that award was her husband; he was not only strong and steady, he waited well. Anthony just wasn't the fretting type; he figured that once you'd done all you could to affect the outcome of whatever issue loomed at the moment, whatever was going to happen would happen, and that was the end of that. She'd never managed the trick of washing her hands of things, or even managed to feel she'd done all she could. Strongly suspecting this was a male/female divide, she followed his advice and sought out Courtney, who she found in the kitchen scraping plates.

"Diane just talked to Isabel," Dee reported. "She answered her phone, so things can't be too bad."

"Maybe not there," Courtney said darkly.

"What does that mean?" Dee asked. "Did something else happen?"

Courtney stopped scraping. "Remember when I went outside for a smoke? Rath found me. Yanked the cigarette right out of my mouth."

"It's not like Michael to care if someone smokes," Dee said.

"He didn't," Courtney said. "He'd searched Vanessa's office and found photos of me, one of which he helpfully shoved in my face."

"Oh, dear," Dee sighed. "So I gather you made something up?"

"Of course not!" Courtney said brightly. "I told him I'm an alien too, but I'm on his side and Vanessa isn't, and, oh, by the way, I'm slated to be his wife! Cool, huh?"

"Sarcasm," Dee muttered. "It's rampant around here."

"And there's a perfect example of the pot calling the kettle black," Courtney noted.

"What did you tell him?" Dee asked, praying for patience.

"What do you think?" Courtney demanded. "I made something up, something about screwing her stepson and going to jail."

"Dramatic, but convincing," Dee said. "So why are you so pissy?"

"Because I slapped him!" Courtney exclaimed.

"Slapped him?" Dee said, with a chuckle that died in her throat when Courtney looked daggers at her. "Okay, why did you slap him?"

"I didn't mean to," Courtney protested. "I had to make up something on the spot, and I was afraid he wouldn't buy it, but then he did, hook, line, and sinker, and I just...I don't know...lashed out. I was afraid he'd made me."

"This is Michael we're talking about," Dee said soothingly. "One slap won't do anything except maybe turn him on."

"You don't get it!" Courtney exclaimed. "Where I come from, you don't go around slapping members of the royal family!"

"Do I really need to point out that this isn't where you came from?" Dee asked.

"Do I really need to point out that the idea is to go back where I came from?" Courtney retorted. "Not to mention that I'm supposed to marry him. What if—"

"Oh, thank goodness! She's back!"

Dee and Courtney exchanged startled glances before hurrying to the kitchen door to find Diane welcoming Max and Michael. "Gracious, what took so long?" Diane asked. "Everyone's wondering where the birthday girl got to!"

"What do you mean?" Michael demanded. "Where's Isabel?"

Diane looked from one to the other in consternation. "I thought she was with you."

Michael looked at Max. "No," Max answered. "She's supposed to be here."

"Honestly, I don't understand what's taking so long," Diane protested. "The girl has a closet full of dresses. Just pick one, for heaven's sake!"

"Here I am!"

A breathless, but smiling Isabel appeared in the back doorway, followed by Kyle Valenti. "Sweetheart, finally!" Diane exclaimed. "But...that's the same dress! I thought you spilled something on it?"

"I did, but I got it out," Isabel said. "That's what took so long."

Diane gave her a perplexed look. "Why didn't you just pick another dress?"

"Because I like this one. Mom, we can stand here talking about my dress, or we can go back to the party," Isabel went on when Diane gave her the classic hands-on-hips, exasperated parent pose.

"All right, all right," Diane sighed. "Teenagers! I'll never understand them. At least you're back. People were beginning to wonder."

Diane retreated to the cafe, and Isabel moved to follow, but was stopped by Max's hand on her arm. "Where were you?" he asked.

"Yeah, you were coming straight here," Michael said. "How'd we get here first?"

"Beats me," Isabel shrugged. "Maybe you're slow. How's Tess?"

"She's fine," Max said. "And you're changing the subject."

Listening from the kitchen doorway, Dee's eyes narrowed; his voice was level, but the challenge in his tone was unmistakable. "Am I?" Isabel said archly. "And how exactly is Tess off-topic after what went down tonight?"

"You know what I mean," Max said. "Where were you?"

"None of your business," Isabel retorted.

Max looked at Kyle. "Where did you take her?"

"You heard the lady," Kyle answered. "MYOB."

"Answer him!" Michael ordered.

"Go to hell," Kyle said blandly.

Max put a hand on Michael's chest, holding him back as he walked straight up to Kyle. "I'll ask you again," Max said deliberately. "Where did you take her?"

"And I'll tell you again—mind your own fucking business," Kyle replied. "But I guess that would be 'MYOFB'." They paused, eye to eye for a moment before Kyle smiled. "What are gonna do, Evans? Kill me? Lotta that going around. Gonna leave another handprint? Gonna play to type?"

"Ouch," Courtney murmured.

"I've had enough of this," Dee whispered fiercely. Pushing the door open, she sailed out of the kitchen. "Isabel!" she exclaimed. "You're back! Are you all right, darling?"

"Grandma," Isabel breathed with obvious relief. "I...yes! I'm fine, my dress is saved, and...and I am so ready to party."

"I'm sure your mother is anxious to have her birthday girl back," Dee said. "You're Kyle, right?" she went on, ignoring the obvious stand-off still in progress between Kyle and Max. "Sheriff Valenti's son? I'm Isabel's grandmother, Dee Evans."

Dee extended a hand which Kyle could not shake until Max moved out of the way; he held his ground for a couple of seconds before doing so. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans," Kyle said, shaking her hand with his eyes on Max. "Wow, two Mrs. Evans. I'm gonna get so confused."

"I'm sure the kids can set you straight," Dee said. "Right, Max?"

"Right," Max said tightly.

"Michael, dear, you look upset," Dee commented. "Anything wrong?"

Michael's eyes dropped. "No."

"Yes," Max corrected, his eyes swinging to his sister. "I want to know where you were, Isabel."

"Later," Isabel said.

"Now," Max ordered.

Dee's eyebrows rose. "What's this?"

"Max is just being a busybody," Isabel said lightly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my—"

"No," Max interrupted flatly, "you are not excused. Not until you tell me where you were."

"Max, what's going on?" Dee asked.

"Grandma, I know you mean well," Max said, his eyes on Isabel, "but this really doesn't concern you. Go back to the party. We'll join you in a minute."

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man," Dee said sharply. "I'll be the judge of what 'concerns' me, thank you very much. And since when do you give me orders? Since never, that's when! What's gotten into you?"

There followed a collective, inaudible gasp as Max's eyes snapped to hers and, for a moment, Dee saw a very different person reflected in their depths. A moment later that person was gone, replaced by a startled teen who'd just been verbally swatted. "I...I didn't mean…"

"I'm not entirely clear what you meant," Dee said tartly, "nor convinced I want to know. What I do know is that your sister has been through enough tonight without you adding to her burden. What she needs now is a supportive brother, not the third degree. Am I making myself clear?"

Four pairs of eyes widened, three in alarm, one with interest, as three hybrids and Kyle Valenti took that to mean just exactly what it did. "What do you mean?" Michael asked suspiciously. "What's Isabel 'been through'?

Dee waited several excruciating seconds before putting them out of their misery. "Isn't it obvious? She was going on a date, which was interrupted by a surprise birthday party, which was further interrupted by a soiled dress. Let her get back to her party, for heaven's sake! Isn't that why you arranged it for her in the first place? So she could enjoy it?"

Three sighs escaped as three hybrids relaxed, their secret ostensibly safe. "Thank you, Grandma," Isabel whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek. "C'mon, Kyle; let's go party."

"Always willing to party," Kyle noted, flashing a smile at Michael which went unreturned as they pushed past.

"Well?" Dee demanded when Max and Michael didn't budge. "What are you waiting for? Join them! You're only young once! Hurry up before I come up with more platitudes!"

Michael smiled faintly, but left. Max lingered a moment longer, giving her a chastened look before loping after Michael. Courtney came out of the kitchen, shaking her head as the door to the cafe swung closed behind him.

"What in the name of God was all that?" Dee said in exasperation.

" 'That' was a king who wasn't getting his way," another voice answered.

Dee spun around to find Brivari watching them. "What just happened?" she demanded. "I have never seen Max like that."

"I have," Brivari said. "Many times."

Cheers and applause erupted from the cafe, a sharp contrast to the silence in the back. "Brivari," Dee said slowly, "what happened out there?"

"Are they the same people they once were, or different people altogether? That has always been our biggest argument," Brivari said, "and tonight I was forced to concede you were right because I, too, saw things I have never seen. But it turns out we were both right. They are different people in some respects, but what you just saw...that I'm all too familiar with. That's a powerful man who's accustomed to forcing his will on others. That's a brother who drove his sister into her lover's arms when he insisted on an engagement to a man she didn't want to marry."

"And that's what sent the dominoes falling," Courtney added sadly. "What you just saw is what wrecked our world."

"I'll wreck him if I ever see that again," Dee said furiously. "He's always been so protective of Isabel! I've never heard him take that tone with her, and if I hear it again, I'll personally knock him into the middle of next week!"

"I don't have that luxury," Brivari said.

"Then who does?" Dee demanded. "Or did? Who tells him when he's being a jackass? Anyone? No one?"

"His second and his wife," Brivari answered, "not necessarily in that order. His mother, although to a much lesser extent; she takes more of a supportive role. And I certainly tried, for all the good it did me."

"Let me guess," Dee said darkly. "He ordered you to be silent."

"Zan never 'ordered' me to do anything," Brivari answered, "which is why I took his abuse of that power so hard. But that doesn't mean he listened. Any criticism I offered, no matter how diplomatically couched, was seen as suspect. He saw me as someone who always compared him to his father, and found him wanting...and not without merit. He had a point." He paused. "I need to keep an eye out for any reinforcements Vanessa may have called in. I'd appreciate it if you would both do the same."

"I'll call you if I see anyone familiar," Courtney said.

"Please tell me Vanessa's dead," Dee said. "You killed her, right?"

"Vanessa is quite dead," Brivari answered, "but I didn't kill her. Vilandra did."

Dee stared at him in shock. "Isabel? Isabel killed her?"

"The princess?" Courtney crowed. "Oh, that is sweet! Khivar's squeeze killed Vanessa! Only thing better would have been if she'd killed Nicholas. God, that is freaking poetic!"

"I doubt she saw it that way," Brivari noted. "You should know that before she died, Vanessa provided quite the history lesson. If I were you, I'd expect a visitor in the near future, Deanna. You're likely her first stop when the magnitude of what she was told sinks in."

He left as Dee stared after him in dismay. "Does that mean what I think it means?" she whispered. "Did Vanessa tell Isabel…"

"That she brought a planet down?" Courtney finished. "Sounds like. And if she did...well, let's just say she'll probably need more than just a 'visit'." She paused. "Know any shrinks?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 37 on Sunday, September 20.