Chapter 33  The State of the War Tonight

"Nobody on the road,
nobody on the beach.
I feel it in the air,                                                                                                      the summer's 
out of 
reach.
Empty lake,
empty streets,
the sun goes down alone.
I'm driving by your house                                                                                                 though I know you're not 
home."
~~ Don Henley   The Boys of Summer

Patricia scowled at the data pad before her that was propped on a tray 
on her bed, where she could see it.  Though she was restricted to bed, and was 
required to lie flat on her back, she was not inclined to vacation as 
she recuperated. The information on the pad was more of the various 
notations that had once belonged to Diana. There were vast tomes of data pads like this one. 
Like any scientist, Diana had to keep track of her formulas, experimental 
trials, failures and successes. Once David had taken over command of the Los 
Angeles Mothership, it had been one of his tasks to find a way to decode 
Diana's carefully encrypted notes so that Patricia, and anyone else that needed to know 
what Diana had spent her time doing while stationed on Earth, could read 
them. This was the last transmission burst that had been routed from Rendezvous 
Station after it had been sent there to be transmitted to Se'there at the 
Institution on the homeworld, decoded by her, relayed by the staff at the Institution, 
back to Rendezvous Station, and finally, from Melissa on Rendezvous Station 
back to David on the Mothership. 

What Patricia read was quite disturbing, and positively disgusting. If 
she'd never had any idea just how intelligent, or deranged Diana was before, 
she knew now. It appeared that her daughter was insanely fascinated with 
her human experimentations. Much more so than she ought to be. Many of the 
procedures Diana had performed were sanctioned by the government, and they were 
documented appropriately. Though the conversion process had been invented long 
ago, Diana had pioneered the science to make it adaptable for use on humans. 
Furthermore, she and other brilliant scientists and tacticians had improved upon it, 
and refined it to where it was virtually impossible to tell the difference 
between a human that was converted, and one that was not. 

But there were many more experiments that Diana performed without the 
government's knowledge. The most hideous of all of them was the 
creation of the Human/Sullam Voe hybrid, Elizabeth. Patricia learned that Diana's 
success with that particular experiment had been almost accidental. The hybrid's mother, 
human test subject Robin Maxwell, had managed to escape the confines of her 
prison, before Diana had the chance to find out if the mating between she and 
Brian had resulted in a pregnancy. When Diana finally found out, it was 
nearly a year later, after the child had already been born. Furthermore, Diana hadn't 
been at all certain that all of the procedures she'd done with Robin and 
Brian would yield the desired results. It had been a work in progress, and much of 
that progress had been lost when Robin escaped. 

Try as she might, Diana had been unable to reproduce the same results 
with other, separate matings with different subjects. At least, she hadn't 
been able to for many years. Most of her subjects, of course, were unwilling, and 
in some cases, they were even unknowing. There was some documentation that 
indicated that prior to the arrival of Charles, the Leader's personal attache, 
there had been talks between Diana, and the unofficial human 'Leader of Los 
Angeles', Nathan Bates. Apparently, the two of them were conspiring to, through 
means of artificial insemination and external incubation, create a hybrid of 
their own genetics. Patricia had never met this man, Nathan Bates, nor did it 
seem likely that she would, since he was dead. She did not care to, either. 
Anyone who would willingly conspire to create one of these scientific 
monstrosities was someone she'd have no problem killing outright. Diana never got the 
chance to see the project to fruition, or to know if the formulae she planned to 
use in this example would work. Charles came to the Mothership, ending any 
more talks. Then, shortly afterwards, Bates met his untimely demise.

Finally, after painstaking research and many trials and errors, Diana 
found what she'd believed to be the crucial element that she'd "accidentally" 
implemented when creating Elizabeth. It seemed that the hypothesis was 
correct. Not long after this discovery, she was able to impregnate a Sirian female, 
L'ura Kathka, with the cryogenically frozen sperm of a human male. 
Immediately after L'ura's pregnancy was confirmed, Diana took her experimentation one 
step further. 

As it was documented, Diana had hopes of creating a hybrid that was of 
her own genetic material, regardless of whether or not Nathan Bates was 
it's father. She had known that her season was rapidly approaching, so she 
administered dosages of a well known fertility drug to herself. When her season 
came upon her, she "forced" the unfertilized eggs out of her reservoir before they 
were fully mature.  Then, she incubated them for a short time until they 
were ready for a invitro fertilization. 

While most women only produced one egg per season, there were obvious 
exceptions. Patricia herself was one. She had born fraternal twins; 
hatched of separate eggs. She did not know if multiple ovulation was a family 
trait, but regardless, it was actually a vestigal trait. In ancient times, women 
laid egg clutches and hatched several young at once. Evolution later made the 
norm to be one egg per season, although it was still not uncommon for a woman to 
produce two eggs at a birth, but have only one hatch, and the other to be devoid of 
any life inside of it.

Diana's use of a fertility drug increased her harvest to three eggs in 
one season. Patricia learned that one of them was determined to be 
unsuitable from the start, and it had been discarded. That left Diana with two. Both 
were fertilized with the cryogenically frozen sperm of human donors, and 
artificially incubated. The incubators kept track of all vital signs inside the eggs 
so that Diana could monitor their progress as they developed. At some point, 
one of the eggs failed to develop any further. The monitor showed a steady 
decrease of activity inside the egg, until finally, all vital signs ceased.  

Diana knew that it was a "rotten egg", and she had pulled it out of the 
incubator, cracked the shell, and autopsied the stillborn horror 
within. According to her records, the hybrid had more than a few problems; the most 
serious being a bacterial toxin that was reproducing in it's intestines. The 
waste products from the bacteria, when it died, was excreeted into the 
fetus's bloodstream. Toxemia was the result, and it was listed as the primary cause of 
death.

The other egg continued to develop, and eventually spawned Madeline. As 
it would seem, Madeline had some of the bacteria present in her bowels 
upon her hatching as well. However, the amount in her body was far less 
significant. As it died off, the by products had caused this hybrid some digestional 
distress, dehydration, and mild toxemia. However, the build up was flushed from 
her body before it had the chance to kill her. Meanwhile, Diana had no way of 
knowing what had happened to the hybrid she had impregnated L'ura Kathka with. 
L'ura, mortified when she'd learned what had been done to her, defected from 
the ship. This act of insubordination was about the only instance that Patricia 
could ever deem as excusable. In fact, she could almost feel pity for the 
poor girl. To imagine what it would be like to find out that the hatchling you 
bore was a laboratory nightmare was unthinkable.

At last, Patricia could fully understand why the Leader was so outraged 
about the creation of any more hybrids after Elizabeth, and why he was so 
adamant that they be destroyed. In all her years as a hired mercenary, she had 
never run across an individual or a group of people that had the potential of 
being even more dangerous than she herself was. Though Patricia considered 
herself to be strong, it wasn't her physical capabilities that made her so deadly. 
She relied on her cunning and her superb strategical logic far more than 
any brute strength she possessed. These hybrids defied all sense of strategical 
logic...and they were strong. Dangerously strong.  Neither of them was 
particularly cunning, although she sensed that the hybrid that was biologically her 
granddaughter had the potential of becoming so. 

She'd had two opportunities to confront a hybrid individually, and one 
encounter with the three of them collectively. The first had been with 
the only male. He'd escaped. Though that particular confrontation hadn't injured 
Patricia any, it left her wondering precisely how he'd managed to avoid injury 
himself. In her experience, there weren't many targets of hers that could claim 
that. (Prior to that day, there'd been none.) 

The next confrontation had been against all three of them. Once again, 
they'd all thwarted her attempts to capture and kill them. In addition, she'd 
suffered a minor setback after the two females and Philip had unloaded 
the contents of their venom sacs in her face. Fortuanately, Patricia's false human 
contacts and pseudoskin had protected her from blindness or chemical burns. 
Though her injuries were minor, she had lost almost her entire commando squad by 
then. She realized that the three of them together was a lethal combination 
of raw power. It was then that she fully understood the Leader's intent. She 
could even bring herself to humbly admit that she'd do better to avoid confronting 
the threesome together again. One did not stay alive in the profession she 
practiced if one could not properly assess the risks involved, and 
avoid situations that posed a direct threat. It certainly did not mean she could not 
succeed in her goals. Patricia merely changed her logic to suit the circumstances. 
Eliminating that risk simply meant isolating her targets and picking 
them off one at a time.

Soon afterwards, she had been afforded an opportunity to do just that. 
However, once again, she'd made a near fatal miscalculation.  Madeline 
had been alone, save for Diana's pathetic presence, and unarmed. Somehow, the 
wretched, hybrid beast had managed to turn the situation to her own advantage. 
Patricia had been left critically injured in the process. She would never forget the 
experience of being lifted, completely airborne, by unseen hands, and 
hurled into a coatrack with such a velocity that she'd been impaled.

Patricia had no preparation to deal with an enemy who possessed such 
abilities. She doubted anyone else ever had either. Reassembling her 
assault squad by reinlisting the three that had survived and calling up her reserve 
members to fill in for those that had died would accomplish nothing, although she 
planned to have them at the ready. If she herself could not battle these 
hybrids with typical tactics, certainly no one in her assault squad could either. 
The answer to her struggles existed within science. Patricia was no 
stranger to it. She had served a brief scientific internship at a military hospital/ 
research facility prior to finding her true calling in the political underworld. 

If there was a way to create these starchildren, there certainly had to 
be a way to destroy them. No life existed without eventual death. No one 
life form thrived without natural enemies to thin down their population. By 
pouring over Diana's various logs and notations, Patricia hoped to find that lethal 
combination.  

As it was documented, some of the experiments had failed. Patricia even 
learned of the rumors regarding an alleged hybrid twin to Elizabeth 
Maxwell. It had died shortly after birth, succumbing to an odd bacteria. Though Diana 
had no concrete proof of it's existance, she held to the probability that the 
resistance had formulated their deadly "Red Dust" from cultured strains 
of the bacteria. Of course, this bacteria proved to be highly toxic to the 
Sirian species. However, this did not concern Patricia, especially since a countertoxin 
had been made for the 5th Column traitors that habitated the Earth and 
fought with the resistance.  

What was important was that this bacteria killed hybrids. Why some 
survived infection with it while others did not, was still a mystery.  It was 
obvious that the bacteria was something their own bodies created. Also 
documented was the fact that Madeline had suffered ill effects at birth, though she 
had been able to overcome them and thrive.  Patricia also noted that Diana had 
kept excellent medical records concerning Madeline's continuing health and 
fitness. She paid special attention to the entry that Diana had made concerning 
Madeline's exposure to a drug known as Procorb. Where most individuals dosed with 
it, regardless of whether they were Human or Sullam Voe, suffered few ill 
effects, the drug made Madeline seriously ill. It had induced symptoms of 
immediate nausea and faintness, and later caused lactic shock to the extent that 
her kidney function had been comprimised, despite the fact that she'd been given a 
small dose.  This knowledge could come to be useful.

Everything Patricia discovered was notated and transmitted directly to 
Rendevous Station's Chief Science Technician, Melissa. Patricia had 
also located the graves of L'ura Kathka and the ill fated twin of Elizabeth's.  Samples 
had been gathered and sent to Melissa's lab for analysis. It was now 
Melissa's job to piece together all the information Patricia supplied her and find a 
useful strategy to use against the hybrids. 

With that much decided, Patricia had no more patience for lying flat on 
her back, hovering over Earth. She had her Medical Technician signal for 
David, and now she awaited his arrival.  About ten minutes later, David arrived. 
It occurred to Patricia that he should have gotten there sooner, but she 
held her forks. After all, he had much to do commanding a mothership and 
cleaning up the messes that Diana had left behind. The Medical Technician dissappeared, 
as expected, the minute David entered the room.

"Greetings , T'Ama," David said quietly, affording Patricia with the 
greeting he used only when they were in private.

"Greetings, D'vethe. It has been some time since you have come in to 
see me. You have been kept busy, no?"

"Yes, very busy," David confirmed, trying not to allow his discomfort 
at being under his mother's close scrutiny show.

"This is good. You will be busier yet.  Now is the time."

"The time for what, T'Ama?"

"I cannot afford any more time on my back, no? My crest will be crushed 
flat. It is time for us to depart this air space and reroute to Rendezvous 
Station."

David shot his eyebrows up in a gesture that Patricia had learned 
humans often displayed when they were surprised. Humans very often showed their 
surprise when they encountered her for the first time.

"You seem surprised. This was to be our eventual destination, no?" 

"Of course I am aware of this.  However, there is much left undone," 
David replied pointedly...but cautiously.

"There are things that must remain undone until I have fully recovered. 
I must recover quickly. My medical needs, at present, can only be 
properly administered to by Melissa on Rendezvous Station. She will also work to 
supply me some intelligence I will need when I return to complete my duties," Patricia 
answered.

David felt his blood run colder than usual at the thought of Melissa, 
and the things Patricia would be demanding of her.  

"Yes, but T'Ama, the Medical Technicians here are still not completely 
sure you could withstand the travel," he argued as if he were truely 
concerned for her well being.

"In a shuttle, no. I imagine the journey would be difficult in my 
present state. But, what I want is to engage with Phase 2 now. We will reroute 
this entire, blasted vessel. It can be decontaminated of all traitors and 
all of D'ana's meddlings. Then, it can be recommissioned. It will be a new vessel, 
completely under your command, no?"

"I was not aware that it was to be recommissioned," David said stoicly.

"I have come upon new intelligence that indicates that this is the best 
course of action," Patricia replied.  She stared pointedly at the data 
pads spread before her on the tray.

"How much of D'ana's workings have you personally read yourself after 
you had them decoded?" she asked.

"None. I do not wish to have my mind polluted with her psycopathic 
garbage," David retorted.

"You have much catching up to do then, no? D'vethe, you must explore 
the mind of the enemy if you are to know how to defeat them. Yes, agreeably, 
much of her prattlings are psycopathic garbage. One must not dismiss the 
cunning and the intelligence that got her into the position she ended up in.  She 
knew things...very...interesting things."

"Such as?" David asked as he rolled one of the medic's stools over to 
his mother's bedside.

"Our homeworld is done for," Patricia said. David wasn't certain, but 
he thought he almost detected a mournful tone in her voice. "There is 
pollution, acid rain, starvation. The Leader knows this, no? One by one, he has sent us 
to conquer this fertile planet. He has no intention of allowing us to 
return, whether we succeed in securing Earth or not.  There is not enough 
resources to go around.  Not to mention, with the population of the planet reduced, 
there is no one to form a coup against his rule, no?"

"Your talk sounds insubordinate and dangerous,"David commented wryly.

"This is not my talk. This is what D'ana has concluded. But you are not 
stupid, my son. The Leader is growing older, and, I might add, poorer. 
This war has cost him too much. However, he will not be ousted. He has insured 
himself the ability to rule ironhanded until he is old enough to be mummified.  He 
is no longer a suitable ruler of the people of the Sullam Voe."

"Then, are you telling me that you have no intentions of carrying out 
his orders?" 

Patricia's lips curved in a predatory smile.

"D'ana believes she is to be crowned the next Ruler of the People. Over 
my dead body, no? That is not a job for her. She believes that an 
Enlightened One speaks to her. If this is true, she has misinterpreted the words. She 
has managed to properly understand part of this wisdom. This planet is 
larger, richer, and has almost limitless potential. Our enemies are unaware of it, and 
when the day arrives that they do learn of it, our people will have had the 
time to build an appropriate aresenal for defense. If every man, woman and 
child were brought here, our people could prosper. The Leader has failed to see 
this, no? He grossly underestimated the size of the human population, and he 
underestimated their cunning. As it stands now, we are outnumbered, 
D'vethe, and we will never secure this planet until that changes."

"Do you mean take this planet as ours, and abandon our own?  T'Ama, 
that is ludicrous. What of our culture? Our understanding of our land and how 
we relate to it?"

"Do not start spouting any Pretenama to me. All of these things can be 
relearned. It is called adaptation, no? To survive and evolve, we must 
adapt. This is where Pretanama and the Lords of the Light fail us as our Leader 
has.  There will be no more prosperity and life on a planet that will be a dried 
out husk in less than a century. Let the Leader share this inheritance with the 
Zon Fanatics. The time has come for the rest of us to find a new way. There 
is a new Messiah for us, but...it is not D'ana.  It is you, D'vethe.  You were 
hatched to rule. It is your destiny. Stop burying your crest in the sand, 
pining away for the old ways. You were never alive when the old ways were 
prosperous anyways, no?"

"I am no Messiah, T'Ama," David said as he flicked his tongue around 
the suddenly dry interior of his mouth.

"Nonsense. Messiahs are not hatched. They are made. At least D'ana 
understands this much, although her methods are completely sick. One 
does not create a Messiah of Our People by interbreeding with Relavish scum, no?"

"Oh? And how would you go about creating the Messiah for Our People?"

"It is all in the propaganda. I do not see why you do not understand 
this yet. Our Leader has nearly managed to elevate himself to that status. 
Only he is too selfish and has too many perverted devices. It is why I have 
insisted that you maintain a clean image. You are seen to be loyal, strong, hard 
working and intelligent. Everything you are to the People, I have created with 
careful propaganda. You must work hard to maintain your image. It is what the 
People want. When the time comes, they will willingly follow you here to 
inherit this world of bounty, even if it means they must leave the old ways behind. 
And I of course, will take care of anyone who would tarnish this vision. Our 
people must not be divided. We will unite and conquer. Anyone who does not 
feel this is our destiny will simply be eliminated, no?"

"You would dare suggest that I encourage the citizens of Sirius to 
leave their homes to come live in a poisoned realm? There are many dangers 
present that must be taken into consideration, T'Ama. As you said yourself, the 
Leader underestimated the Human's cunning. Not to mention, they have created 
this Red Dust terror that still makes half of this planet unihabitable to us."

"There are measures of protection that have been employed. Do not 
forget, D'vethe, nature always has it is way of allowing the survival of the 
fittest. In a generation or two, our bodies will develop the immunities to fight 
off this Red Dust. We will also have taken care of the problem of how it was 
manufactured in the first place. The hybrids will be eliminated. No 
more hybrids, no more red dust. You will come to see, David, as our People will, that 
this world is meant to be ours. In fact, it started out this way. This planet was 
once dominated by creatures very much like us. Mammals were the lesser 
species...and they still are. Nature has brought us full circle, no? Once again, a 
reptilian species will emerge dominant, and this planet will host us as it did 
millions of years ago." Patricia explained.

"And, suppose the same thing happens that wiped out the dinosaurs you 
speak of?"

"Nonsense, D'vethe. We may have biologic similarities that the 
dinosaurs  had, but the dinosaurs that roamed millions of years ago were part of a 
primitive Earth. They were the most intelligent creatures, obviously, but even 
then, they were so stupid that they make crivits look brilliant, no? We can 
safeguard ourselves from giant meteors or volcanoes...or whatever phenomena it 
was that killed off the ancient dinosaurs."

David pursed his lips and wondered, for not the first time since this 
conversation had begun, if the pain medications Patricia was on hadn't 
addled her brain. Or, perhaps it was something else. Unbeknownst to his mother, 
David was a superstitious individual. He could feel the insanity the walls of this 
mothership bred. Perhaps it was infesting his mother's mind. As 
Patricia's words rolled in his brain, she cleared her throat and hissed for his 
attention.

"Enough debate, no? You will begin preparations needed to transport 
this ship to Rendezvous Station. Contact Melissa at once and have her make ready 
for me."

David knew enough not to argue with her now. She was too lucid, and 
would be able to detect any potential insubordination on his part. Pushing back 
his stool, he stood and nodded curtly.

"As you wish, T'Ama," he stated. Any and all emotion left his tone.

***************************************************************
"I wish she would just choke on a gerbil and die," Melissa stated into 
the monitor that allowed David visual access of her on Rendezvous Station.

"Yes, it is a shame she pulled through. I am afraid, Melissa, that the 
time has come for you. I cannot stall her any longer."

Melissa appeared as though she understood.

"How much time do I have?" she asked.

"No more than a week at the maximum. Contact me when you know what you 
will need to take with you, so I can arrange for your transport."

"David, How will Patricia react when she finds out I am gone? Will you 
be punished for it?"

"It will not be a problem, Mi'Alith'ca. I have made a few loyal 
contacts on board this ship. They are willing to travel ahead of us to take care of 
some business. They have been instructed to make what is left of your 
laboratory and personal quarters look like an assassin struck."

"I am not certain that will work. Your mother is an assassin. She 
knows...things..."

"Yes, but she cannot walk, and without you there, she will not be 
mobile any time soon. She will simply have no choice but to rely on my reports." 

"I have full faith in you," Melissa responded, a dark smile crossing 
her true features.

"Your work is important. It must be allowed to continue."

"Commander, I have one other thing to report," Melissa stated.

"Yes, that would be?"

"In regards to that special request you made a while back...to have 
your  sister released from her confines in the hospital so that I may begin 
to study her condition and formulate a treatment plan..."

"Has this been done?" David asked, trying not to allow any excitement 
to show in his tone.

"In light of Patricia's sudden interest in Se'there...I am afraid I was 
unable to make the arrangements to get her out at this time. In the 
meantime, though, I was able to make a trip to the Homeworld two weeks ago. I met 
with her therapy team and with her. She really is a remarkable patient, and from 
what I understand, she is responding well to some of the treatment plans I 
offered her medical team."

"This is a good thing, I suppose," David stated, "Perhaps someday, she 
will be able to lead an independent life out of the institution. She was 
granted a government stipend for her care up til a year and a half ago. Then, the 
money ran out. D'ana has been paying for my sister's care since then. But, 
with D'ana out on civillian commission now, there is no telling what will happen 
with Se'there's needs now."

Melissa made a face.

"Lovely. The insane caring for the insane," she remarked.

"At least D'ana seems to have a little more compassion in these matters 
than I was ever permitted to believe."

"Se'there will be kept safe. I will keep posted on her condition. I 
must ask you, David, where did you learn of this?"

"I was granted access to some financial records of D'ana's from a 
trusted source. He will ensure that your arrival on Earth will be secured."

"Philip?" Melissa breathed, almost hopefully, yet with a nervous edge 
to her tone.

"Who else?"

"David, I am happy to hear this. However, you know I still worry about 
trusting Philip too much. He was part of the Creche Youth...unlike his 
brother Martin. They did all the same things to Philip that they did to my own 
brother Lu'kath-"

"Yes, I am aware of this. By the way, I can now inform you with good 
consious that your brother Lucas was one of the three operatives in Patricia's 
unit that survived the assault on Earth. Both he and the other 
two...uh...Dennis and Corey, I believe...are going to be transported back here from Visitor 
Fields before we leave."

Melissa only looked marginally relieved, but David understood why. Her 
brother, if he were to ever learn of Melissa's alterior motives, would 
not hesitate to kill her. Creche training had taken well to Lucas, as it had with 
Diana.  It had destroyed the mind of Diana's fraternal twin sister, Se'there.

Many other reports of mental instabilities occurring within the higher 
ranks of surviving officers poured in on a regular basis. According to 
Melissa's research, it was usually the eldest hatched of society's more elite 
class of families that was selected for the Creche training. That class of 
families included the likes of the Retathekets of his own biolgical line, the 
Nath clutch, which spawned the identical twin brothers, Philip and Martin, the 
Kathka's, from which Brian had been chosen, and the Levasss clutch, which Lucas had 
been taken from. Even some middle class farmer's and merchant's hatchlings 
had made the Creche cut. The Tevith family had unwittingly given their daughter 
Lydia to Creche service when enrolling her in the Academy. They had been told 
that she would be trained amongst the elite class's hatchlings, and would be 
afforded many privileges and opportunities that she would otherwise be denied 
her due to her mere middle class standing.

In most cases, it was only the oldest hatchling chosen for the Creche. 
However, there were a few instances when a younger child would be taken 
instead. Those instances included the untimely death or incapacitation of the 
clutch's eldest child, or if a younger child simply showed more promise. In the 
case of David's family, Se'there had been the eldest hatched between herself 
and her fraternal twin, D'ana. Therefore, Se'there had initially been elected 
for the Creche. Sadly, something had happened to Se'there at some point in her 
training. No one ever told David precisely what it was. She had been unable to 
complete her training, and was now relegated to a carefully structured life 
within the confines of a mental hospital. D'ana had promptly been drafted to fill 
the void left in her sister's absence. Though it was believed that D'ana 
would never excell as she had been hatched weak, she had proven everyone wrong. She 
took to the training like few ever did, and flourished.

Diana's success had been the only reason David had not been marked for 
the Creche. According to Melissa, the Creche program was an experimental 
one, geared to create the perfect tactical soldier. The government was aware of the 
downfalls. Hatchlings, like in Se'there's instance, could be harmed. 
That was the reason they typically selected just one child from each clutch that 
produced two or more offspring. In the event of solitary hatchlings, that child 
was taken with no apologies to it's parents. This logic was all that saved 
herself, David, and the other second borns such as her childhood friend L'ura 
Kathka. In addition to younger children, hatchlings of society's lower class were 
not deemed suitable for the program. This had spared William Bethkambet and 
his entire large clutch of brothers and sisters. 

Melissa had dedicated herself to the study of the Creche's subjects, 
and the hopes of undoing what had been done to these children. All of them were 
now adults, varying in age from 21 to 40. Though the government had finally 
become financially unable to continue the Creche program on a wide scale, it 
was Melissa's belief that hatchlings were still being recruited in secret. 
She suspected that some of the training was being done on Earth, and could 
even possibly include some human children for experimental purposes. 

Melissa hoped to bring it to an end, completely and totally. She was 
convinced that it was the Creche program that had ruined her brother's 
mind, and she remained ever bitter because of it. David wasn't certain if the Creche 
program was the entire culprit that had made vicsious monsters out of half of 
an entire generation of his people, but he was aware that something was 
wrong. Camp Bernadino, and his mother's inordinate amount of concern surrounding 
it, gave some of Melissa's theories enough credence, in that respect. He was 
willing to support Melissa's research to the best of his abilities. It was 
possible she was right, and even if she was not completely, it was a wonderful 
thought to think that she might be able to restore his sister Se'there's sanity.
***************************************************************
The transmission between herself and David had already gone on much 
longer than it should have. Melissa knew that it would be one of the last 
opportunities they'd have to touch bases personally. In the meantime, there was much 
to be done, and she had to go about it as quietly as possible, so that no one 
else on Rendezvous Station would suspect her of anything.

In regards to her personal effects, packing them up would not be a 
problem. Melissa was spartan in nature. She owned few garments, because she 
honestly hated them. Were it her choice, she would carry on her daily life 
completely bare scaled. As it was, she seldom wore shoes outside of the laboratory. The 
Inspector General, who was aware of Melissa's peculiarities, had one 
time told her that she was the sort that humans would refer to as a "hippie", 
whatever that meant.

It made her wonder if David was right to trust Philip. There was no 
denying that he was Creche trained. But, over the course of her research, 
Melissa had learned that some took more readily to the schooling than others. 
Perhaps the most aggressive of the Creche students were the ones who'd spent more 
time in the conversion chamber (which was a frequently employed method to 
induce feelings of loyalty and intolerance to foreign ideas). Or, maybe they'd 
been given stronger doses of the various medications used to hasten their growth, 
deaden their emotional response centers, strengthen their immune systems, and 
sharpen their mental acuity. Since it was an experimental program, some were 
trained a bit differently than others, and then the results compared to see which 
group achieved the most desireable outcome. Perhaps Philip's control group 
had been subjected to a less aggressive altering.

She thought over all of this as she padded quietly down the hallway in 
her bare feet; the claws on her toes trimmed so they would not make noise 
on the tiles. Since she was still theoretically in public, she was otherwise 
fully clothed. Her modest robes made little noise as she moved. To invite a 
look of normalcy, Melissa clutched one of her usual data pads in her claws. It 
looked for all the galaxy that she was simply on her way to her lab. Indeed, she 
was...but actually, she keyed herself into the secret anteroom within her 
laboratory. There awaited one of her 'test subjects'. 

"Greetings, Thi'an," she called to him in their native tongue.

"Greetings, Mi'Alithca," he responded in turn.  

"How have you been feeling?" 

"Well enough, I suppose," he answered, in a somewhat flat tone of 
voice. Melissa noted in her data pad that her patient sounded tired. Then, a 
racking cough overtook him, and his bony shoulders heaved beneath his human 
appearing skin.

"We will need to get you rested and stronger, quickly. I am going to 
increase your vitamin formula and your protein allotment over the next week. We 
have to relocate our facilities to a new base on Earth, and I need to get 
you strong enough to withstand the trip," she told him soothingly.

Thi'an stopped coughing almost on cue and snapped his head up to stare 
at Melissa. The exasperation in his eyes wasn't hidden by his blue 
contacts.

"Have you lost your mind?"!" he cried, "Earth is poisoned! I will never 
go back there again!"

"You may not have a choice.  I have recieved word that Patricia is on 
her way here.  If you stay behind, Thi'an, she will learn that you are here, 
and from what I understand, she has orders to kill you. I am warning you now 
that she will not spare you."

"I do not understand what I have done to warrant her wrath," Thi'an 
sighed, a resigned sadness slowly flooding into his voice,"I have always served 
faithfully and loyally."

Melissa rolled her scarlet eyes toward the ceiling in exasperation, 
glad that Thi'an was staring listlessly at his hands in his lap; oblivious to her 
sarcasm.

"You warranted her wrath when you fathered a hybrid, Thi'an. Now, there 
is to be no more concern over it. We must prepare ourselves for the journey." 
With that, she padded over to a cabinet and pulled out several tubes of 
medication. 

"Melissa, I will die anyways. Did you not hear me?"

Melissa continued her work without a response. Two air masks joined the 
medication vials on the worktable. Next came various guages, droppers, 
application swabs, sterile wipe packets psuedoskin repair patches, and an air 
injector. Anything and everything she could think of on a moment's notice went 
onto the table so she could pack it up.

"Mi'Alithca!"

Melissa's work was halted when Thi'an rose from his seat on his bed and 
pulled her away from the table. A few of the items she'd collected 
scattered, and she whimpered in spite of herself. Though he was ill, Thi'an still 
possessed a brute strength that Melissa suspected came from Creche conditioning. 
With a mental shake, she forced herself to gather her wits and regain the 
upper hand with him.

Thi'an! You will let go of me at once, or I will sedate you!" she 
ordered, holding up the air injector she still had clutched precariously in her 
claws. It was not dosed with anything yet, but Melissa was counting on the bluff 
to work. It did. Thi'an released his hold on her and backed away, his eyes 
reflecting anger and confusion.

"You would kill me too?" he questioned, "If I go to Earth, I will 
either go into hibernation shock from the red dust, die from it, or be murdered. 
You know this. Why-"

"There is no other alternative. I have formulated an antitoxin that 
will be strong enough for you, Thi'an.  It will protect you in the warmer 
climates like the standard antitoxin protects all others of our kind there. As for 
murder...well, Thi'an, I can assure you that you will surely be 
murdered if you stay here.  However, ultimately, it is your choice.  I will not force you to 
come with me.  I will just highly reccommend that you put aside your 
suspicions and trust me, because I have absolutely no wish to see any harm come to 
you."

The half-scared, half-crazed look slowly began to leave Thi'an's eyes, 
and he swallowed his venom audibly.

"Yes, I should know to trust you. You are my younger sister's closest 
friend, after all," he said, his tone noticeably more relaxed.

"Absolutely," Melissa agreed, keeping her voice as neutral and even as 
possible.  Now was not the time to inform Thi'an of L'ura's death.

"Where will we stay?" 

"Details are forthcoming. First I must concentrate supplying the 
antitoxin for us, and obtaining a psuedoskins and a new identity for you." 

"This will not be easy," Thi'an said, warning coloring his tone. His 
posture had changed from relaxing to agitated again, and Melissa sighed 
inwardly, noting to herself to check his dose tolerance before they departed. It 
could be that the medications she administered him to control some of the Creche 
induced agressiveness and paranoia needed to be adjusted.

"How do you mean?" she asked calmly.

"You have never been to Earth, have you?"

"No," Melissa responded honestly.

"The Leader lied to us. Humans are not like he told us."

Thi'an's admission stunned Melissa momentarily. She gazed up at him 
solemnly, making more mental calculations about his medication and his general 
mental health.

"I have heard this before. It is one reason why I wish to go to Earth 
myself now.  If our Leader has told us lies, then I wish to learn for myself 
what humans are really like."

"They are dangerous. Not as scientifically advanced as we are, but 
certainly cunning, and very dangerous. They have...fragile, warm bodies, delicate 
skin...and sharp, ruthless minds. Even the young ones...Especially the 
young ones."

Melissa gazed at him thougtfully, but Thi'an's conviction did not 
waiver.

"You think I am not telling you the truth, or that I am over 
exaggerating. I am not. You see, Melissa, the Leader wanted me to gather as many young 
humans as possible, train them to be ruthless, remorseless and loyal soldiers, 
and then, when they were ready, he would pit them into battle against our 
enemies. This was my job. It was why he decided that there should be Visitor 
Youth Leaders.  Well...what I learned, as the Visitor Youth Leader, is that 
these human children did not need much of my training when it came to being 
ruthless and remorseless. They already knew how to cut each other down, disrespect 
their parents, and Zon knows what else."

"I hear what you say, Thi'an. Many creatures are born to hone their 
defenses when they are young, and they learn to control them as they grow. The 
young ones have not yet learned the art of self restraint. However, I highly 
doubt we will be keeping company with too many young humans."

"You must take care to never eat in front of a human. Do you know how 
hard that is?"

Melissa favored him with a wide, bemused smile.

"I will not be wasting my time making excuses to any human I meet about 
what I eat. If one should encounter me eating live prey, they should just 
consider themselves lucky that they are not my dinner."

Once again, Thi'an began to relax. Melissa was able to finish packing 
the contents of the cabinet, with the exception of one small implement that 
looked like an ordinary pair of eyebrow tweezers.  With those, she turned her 
attention to Thi'an. After ripping back the psuedoskin he already wore, she  
plucked two individual scales from his hand. One scale was representative of 
the deepest, darkest, shade of amber coloring that accented his pattern 
mottling, and the other was of the green that made up the large percentage of the rest of 
his scales. She put the two scales into a small glass tube concealed within 
the folds of her robes.  

"This will have to do for getting you a new psuedoskin. I hope it makes 
you look somewhat different. Your hair should be a couple of shades darker, 
at any rate, and I will make certain to get a different color of eye contacts 
for you," Melissa told him.

"As you wish."

With her charges now informed of the upcoming journey, Melissa now felt 
a new sense of urgency.  She put Thi'an's scale sample in the Sculpter's Lab 
with samples taken from other new cadets here at Rendezvous Station.Work 
would not begin on this next batch of psuedoskins until the day after tomorrow, 
but that was fine. Thi'an's skin would be ready when Melissa needed it. If not, 
she supposed she'd swipe one from a similarly marked cadet, and that 
unfortunate cadet would eventually get Thi'an's. Annexed to the Sculpter's Lab was 
a small workshop where the contact eye lenses were manufactured. Melissa 
noticed, through the big picture window, that no one was in there at the moment. 
Glancing at her chrono, she realized that the dinner hour was on hand. A rumble in 
her stomach told her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast, but her own 
appetite would have to wait.

The door slid open when it sensed Melissa's presence, indicating that 
it wasn't locked. She looked around carefully, but purposefully, not 
wanting to seem as though she were sneaking around if she was caught.  All around her, 
accusing eyes stared. Quite literally, too. It was very unnerving, and 
she found herself on edge. Finally, she stepped behind the counter and regarded 
the racks of matched contact sets until she found a pair of green ones that looked 
just like hers.Yes, it would be easy to justify to anyone who saw her with 
them that she needed a replacement set. Thi'an would just have to have green 
eyes.

None of the employees finished with their suppers and returned to the 
contact lab before Melissa finished. Before long, she had the contacts 
concealed in the folds of her robe, and she was hurrying along her way as though 
she'd never detoured there in the first place.

The only loose ends remaining were their transport off of Rendezvous 
Station, and the squad that would obliterate Melissa's lab after her departure.  
These tasks, of course, were David's to take care of. Melissa tried not to 
think about this last part. Rendezvous Station had been her home for the last 
six years. It was a training nucleus for cadets, a vacation mecca for the 
exhausted, a repair port for ships and equipment that were too large to be 
transported all the way back to the Homeworld, a state of the art medical facility for 
the most severely injured or ill, a maximum security prison for inmates 
needing either heavy guard or lots of secrecy,(oh, and of course, a secret 5th 
column population) and a scientific oasis for continuing research for those 
with minds like Melissa's. 

Here on Rendezvous Station, Melissa had all she needed to conduct all 
kinds of research on a great many of subjects. Everything from the Red Dust 
to the Conversion process to innoculations against any known human pathogens 
was studied. Separate areas of Rendezvous Station also conducted research 
on hydroponic food production, and methods to scrub the environment to rid the 
Homeworld of acid rain. To Melissa, Rendezvous Station was all and everything. There 
was good and evil in this world, like in any other, of course, but...

It would seem that the evil was going to win here.

Patricia was returning.

Patricia, who'd often told Melissa that her own hatchling, Diana, had 
once been much like her...

If that was true, and Melissa didn't doubt it for one moment, then it 
was time to find herself a new home, especially when she retreated to her 
own quarters for the night to find a personal message awaiting her on her 
computer. It was specially encoded, from Patricia.

"My recovery goes well, but I expect, with your help, I will fare 
better. I have made arrangements for Commander D'vethe to prepare an envoy for 
me, and I expect to arrive on Rendezvous Station soon. Meanwhile, I have a task 
for you. Compare the blood composition readings Diana got from Madeline versus 
the ones she obtained from Elizabeth when she had her on the Mothership. 
They are still filed in her Medical Records, and I transmitted them all to you. 
It is not as good as fresh specimens, but they will have to do. Next, do a 
pharmocological breakdown of Procorb. Procorb has been known to make 
the hybrid Madeline extremely ill in small doses.  It is no secret that I would like to 
have her crest on a platter. What is in the procorb that does it to her? What 
about Elizabeth? Could we expect similar results? If your research yields a 
positive result, I will make it my business to obtain a fresh sample from the 
half breed boy. Someday, I vow, I will drag his whole wretched hide in here and 
spit on it, too.  

With any luck, we have a potential weapon against these monstrosities 
that is harmless to us. This research, needless to say, is priority. Make it 
so."

Melissa could almost smile coldly at the irony of knowing that she 
wouldn't be here to commit anymore of Patricia's atrocities or research, but 
there was nothing funny about this.David had been absolutely correct in his 
assessment of the situation. Worse yet, it sounded as though Patricia might actually 
be onto something about the Procorb, even though Melissa's vast knowledge 
of pharmocology argued the point that this Madeline might have an extreme 
sensitivity or even an allergy to any of the ingredients in Procorb, where the other 
two hybrids may not.  Regardless of whichever proved to be the case, 
Melissa knew one thing, and one thing only. She wouldn't be around to help Patricia 
figure out which it was. If Zon was with her, Melissa would be far away from 
Rendezvous Station, and if all went as planned, Patricia would be investigating 
her supposed death.

With a sigh, Melissa reached out a claw and turned off the computer 
screen.  Tomorrow would be another long day of preparations...yet, somehow, 
Melissa would have to make it look like she wasn't preparing for anything at 
all.

Chapter 34 

A Few Loose Ends 

Midnight Blue
"For all of the times you told me you need me, 
Needing me now is something I could use. 
Midnight Blue. 
Wouldn't you give your hand to a friend? 
Maybe it's not the end. 
And I think we can make it, one more time, 
If we try. 
One more time for all the old times 
Midnight Blue." 

~~Melissa Manchester 

Miranda Juarez-Taylor gave a conspiratorial glance at the schedule tacked to the wall behind the bar. It was the first day since the scare with that bounty hunting lizard lady that Willie had been able to come back to work at the Club Creole Deux. Elias had made certain that Willie had enough vacation time to pay for the time off. Miranda smiled when she remembered Willie's shock at being handed a paycheck despite not working for over a week. Miranda's sly smile had nothing to do with Willie's vacation pay, however. 

She glanced over at Thelma, who was doing her side work at the server's station in preparation for the Happy Hour that would be starting shortly. Willie's shift as the head bartender was due to begin in two hours, but Miranda had jury rigged the schedule to where he believed it would start in ten minutes. That would give him and his estranged wife some time to talk. She crossed her fingers momentarily before she untied her kitchen apron and hung it up on it's peg. Elias had hired some of Miranda's reletives to staff the restaraunt as cooks, dishwashers, and waitpeople. Tia Rosa was busily stirring up dinner fare at the huge stove, and her Primo, Estefan, was loading dishes into the industrial dishwasher. Other employees hustled about their business, smiling at Miranda as she went on her way to the small back room behind the kitchen. There was the employee breakroom. It had a television set, a table, and a coffee pot (and maybe one day, the coffee pot would get real, full strength coffee). There was also a small toy box there, and three children, Hope, Samantha, and Benjamin, were busily rummaging through it. A fourth child, little Cameron, was napping in a carseat. 

"Hola, Meja!" Miranda greeted her own daughter. Hope looked up from her play, her dark, exotic eyes sparkling happily. 

"Hi Mama!" Hope called back. She then quickly returned her attention to her scaly playmates. Benjamin had tried to snatch one of the barbie dolls from her hand. Like any three year old, Hope clubbed him over the crest with it. Before Miranda could chastise her, Samantha abandoned her toys and scuttled over to Miranda's lap. 

"Tia Miranda!" she lisped happily, burrowing her scaly cheek into Miranda's neck, "Daddy come home tonight?" Miranda sighed and settled onto the floor, not even bothering to take a seat on one of the chairs. Before long, Benjamin had climbed into the warmth of her lap as well. It was amazing how affectionate and cuddly Visitor children were. Willie had told her that they were drawn to her because she was warm, but they took to her because they genuinely liked her. Whatever the case, Miranda had always been raised around lots of children. She'd been one of five, and each of her parents had also come from large families. Family was something Miranda had been taught to always put first, which was why she was here today. 

"I hope your Daddy will come home tonight, Chiquita," Miranda told her reassuringly. In her heart, she believed Willie would if given the chance. After all, it had been Thelma that had kicked him out. When Miranda had heard of it, she had been absolutely mortified. After working on Thelma, explaining things to her about how a good wife supports her husband's decisions, and telling her how wrong it was of her to throw him out when he was just trying to make the world a safer place for her and their children... Well, Miranda wasn't sure if Thelma heard any of it, or if it was just lonliness in the end, but she finally agreed to talk to Willie, and Miranda agreed to watch the hatchlings so they could discuss things alone. 

She glanced at her watch nervously. It was now five. Thelma's shift had just ended, and Willie should just be getting here. They would be coming to the break room at any moment now, which meant that Miranda needed to get the hatchlings and Hope out of here and over to the park where she and Thelma had agreed she'd take them in advance. Dislodging Samantha and Benjamin, Miranda rose to her feet and clapped her hands loudly. 

"Let's clean up and go to the park," she announced, knowing full well that there would be little in the way of protest. 

"Yay!" Hope cried, stashing naked Barbie dolls with matted hair back into the toy box with the other assortment of castoff toys. 

"We play Crivit!" Samantha exclaimed joyfully, jumping up and down. Benjamin was largely non verbal as of yet, but he seemed every bit as enthused as his sister, and he was equally as helpful in doing his share to clean up the scattered toys. As he toddled around on his short legs, he made happy hissing and chortling noises. Baby Cameron continued to sleep, but Miranda knew he'd probably wake up once he got outside into the warm afternoon sunshine. Two hours later, Miranda parked her Chevy Impala in the back lot of the Club Creole Deux. Strapped into the front seat were two extremely sandy three year old girls, babbling excitedly, nonstop. The back seat was reserved for the equally as sandy boy hatchling convention. Benjamin had fallen asleep against the door and appeared to be dead to the world. The tips of his tiny forked tongue dangled from his mouth. The baby, sitting in his carseat, was awake and looking hungry. Miranda had given him some protein paste at the park, but Cameron was gnawing on the straps of his car seat as though the paste hadn't been enough. At least he seemed content. She really had to admit that Visitor babies didn't really fuss much. On the other hand, they had a tendency to take off more and get into things...even more than people babies did. Fortunately, the things Miranda saw little Cameron shovel into his mouth at the park weren't going to hurt him, with the exception of the cigarette butt she'd managed to grab away from him just before he ate it. The kitchen door opened as Miranda unstrapped the littlest one from his carseat. 

Thelma stepped out into the parking lot, sheilding her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. "Did the children behave for you?" she inquired politely as she held out her arms to accept her son. 

"Oh, they were fine," Miranda stated honestly, "How did the talk go?" 

"We will make another try of it," Thelma stated. Her tone was very neutral, and her expression betrayed nothing, but Miranda was cautiously elated. 

"Thelma, that's wonderful. I'm really glad. Your babies will be too. They really miss their daddy, and I know Willie has missed being together with you all." 

"Well, I am glad that I talked to you, Miranda. You see things the way I do, that family is priority. I hope that Willie will start to see things this way too," Thelma replied. 

Miranda felt her heart sink a little, but she willed herself to think past it. "Yeah, family is important, Thelma. Both you and Willie got some thinking to do. See, I told you, where I come from, I wasn't brought up to question what my husband does, as long as he brings home a paycheck, and he's not cheating on me or beating on me. Today, things are a little different, but the principle is still the same. Sometimes, your old man may have to do things you don't like, but what you have to know is...is he doing it in the best interest of you and the family...?" 

"Yes, like you explained," Thelma stated. 

"Well, I hope having that to think about will help him clarify things too. It's what Elias does when he thinks about what resistance jobs he'll go on, and which he'll stay out of. He asks himself if it's absolutely necessary that he's there. Sometimes, the answer is yes, and sometimes, it's no. It just depends. Sometimes, I have to go too. But, we trust each other to make the right decision, even if we don't like it. We're fighting for our lives here. Sometimes, Willie will have to go too, but maybe someday, none of us will." 

"Wouldn't that be nice," Thelma sighed, gazing up at the darkening sky. Her eyes appeared to scan the horizon as if they were searching for a distant star. Miranda wondered if she could see her Homeworld from Earth. It never occurred to her to ask. 

The back door of the kitchen opened again, revealing Elias and Willie. Both girls had managed to squiggle out of their seatbelts and open the car door. Together, they ran towards their fathers, who welcomed them with opened arms. 

"Miranda, I understand that you are Miracle Whip," Willie told her enthusiastically. 

"Yeah, now you know why I married her," Elias remarked with a broad smile. Miranda bit her lip and gazed between Thelma and Willie hesitantly. 

"The real miracle is between these two to work out here. All I am is a friend that wanted to help," she said. 

"Yes, well, it is good to know that I will be coming home tonight," Willie beamed. Samantha still clung to him tightly, her tiny claws embedded into his bartender's apron. As much as it pained him to do so, after a few minutes, he slowly began to unlatch each little claw to loosen her grip. As he did, the hatchling whimpered and pouted. The sound was not at all unlike her human play companion Hope. 

"It is time to come home with me now," Thelma told Samantha as Willie handed her over, "P'tathi must go to work. He will be home when you wake in the morning." 

Willie made short work of assisting Thelma with transferring the hatchlings from Miranda's car to their own. He then bade them a quick goodbye and returned to work. None of this disruption took more than the 15 minutes he was allotted for a break time, even though Elias would never say anything if it had. 

Miranda shook her head sadly as she watched Thelma depart from the parking lot. "Why on Earth do you look so sad?" Elias asked, "You just succeeded in getting those two back together. Willie is so stoked, baby. He's all in there singing the Praise Miranda song, cuz he gets to go home to his babies and his ol' lady tonight-" 

"Elias, I don't think they're gonna make it, that's what," Miranda replied, shortly. 

"Why you say that?" 

"Cuz she's not good enough for him, that's how come!" Miranda fumed. "She didn't hear a word I said. Willie has to be one of the nicest folks on this whole planet. He just doesn't have a mean bone in his body, and he deserves respect, y'know? Especially from his wife, and she just don't respect him. All Thelma wants is her way, and she don't trust that Willie knows what's best. Hell, I know she's homesick, but damn! She's got one hell of a husband, but she just don't respect him, and one of these days, he's gonna get fed up with her ass and..." 

"Yo, baby!" Elias hooted in mock horror. 

"Forgive me, Lord, but it's true. Actually, y'know what? Willie won't get fed up with her. He's not that way. But he should. The only reason I did what I did is because I believe in marriage, and I believe they should try to work it out." 

"I'm with you, believe me, I know where you're at," Elias agreed. 

"Do you think lizards divorce?" Miranda asked. 

"I don't know exactly but if they do, what will you do?" 

"Keep my nose out of it, I guess. I just hope he gets the kids, y'know, because I think he's better with them." 

"I just hope fate would quit taking a crap on poor ol' Willie here and cut him some slack," Elias grumbled. 

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm wrong, and maybe they will work it out," Miranda replied, but her tone lacked conviction. 

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

Diana had only flitted in and out of the fringes of consciousness before now. For the first time in over a week, her eyes snapped open. Devoid of her contacts, even the slightest amount of light felt like cruel, sharp daggers stabbing the horizontal slits of her pupils, but she willed herself to keep them open. Waves of nausea followed, but with nothing in her stomach to vomit, it soon abated, and Diana was fianally able to focus on her surroundings with little interruption. 

A hospital. She was sequestered in a hospital, judging by the monitors incessantly beeping in her ears, and the automatic blood pressure cuff strapped to her arm. Her crest had been securely bandaged and it ached badly, but pain was something that Diana could shut off for the most part. She had been taught how at Academy and in military training. After she took a few measured breaths, she forced herself into a precarious sitting position. The room swayed again, but Diana regained the upper hand. She noticed her medical chart fastened at the end of her bed, and this interested her far more than any pain she felt did. 

Slowly, she scooted down the length of the mattress until her bare claws could snatch the chart off the hook. Five minutes later, she'd hissed about every sibilant swear word she could muster in her native tongue as she finished reading the all of the lies the 5th Column had managed to doctor in her chart. The blaster shot that Patricia had delivered to Diana's head had resulted in a superficial scalp wound that had caused a resultant crest shock. It could have been a serious and even a life threatening injury, similar to a human's concussion, and this was appropriately documented in Diana's chart. However, the time she'd spent recuperating in the hospital, and the treatments that had been administered since had effectively managed this particular injury. There were also first degree burns, but fortunately, the psuedoskin had insulated her scales from any worse damage. 

This was all believable. The 5th columnist's lies were further down, within the neurologist's findings. Apparently, Diana had been subjected to numerous scans while she'd been sleeping. The cranial scans had supposedly indicated that there was a tumor in her brain. Diana stopped reading when she read the neurologist's indications that the tumor was too large to go in after at this point, but that it could be "starved" if the blood vessels feeding it were "cauterized"...and then, after it had shrunken... 

"My ass!" Diana spat angrily. She then remembered where she was, and what else the chart said. Her condition was believed to be "most serious", and her state was listed as "quasi-hibernative". Ha! Tumor or no, her hearing was as sensitive as ever, and it didn't take her long to detect the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside her door. Carefully, Diana replaced the chart on the hook, scooted her way up the mattress, and laid back down on the bed. Her timing was impeccable as always, because as it turned out, her nurse was on her way in to do her afternoon rounds. 

Diana dared to open her eyes a slit when the nurse made notations on the chart, and she was able to watch as medications were administered into the air injector. Unfortunately, she had read what her dosages were in her chart, and she was well aware that her lights were about to go out very soon. With an airy hiss, the nurse injected Diana's neck with a potent cocktail, and soon, any objections she had to her condition or her treatment were obliterated for the time being.

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

Jha'me Bethkambet's life had always been one of sad goodbyes, so she had learned to rearrange her life to accomodate them. She had lost both of her parents simultaneously in a tragic shuttle accident where she'd been the sole survivor. With no other nearby reletives, she'd been taken in by her father's older brother, his wife, and their large clutch of hatchlings. It was here that Jha'me learned that sometimes, misfortune can bring entirely different sets of circumstances into the picture that might not be considered bad. Once she'd come to live with her uncle's family, Jha'me was blessed with the opportunity of getting to know her elderly grandfather in the few years he had left. His tales of his grand Crivit Wrangling days shaped her young imagination and stayed with her always. 

It also afforded her the chance to bond with her older cousin W'Vern, or Willie as he was now known on Earth. In fact, Willie was old enough to mentor her; the space of years being such that it made him typically too old to be an older brother, but too young to be her father. Jha'me had patiently weathered through all of the talk of mating arraingments that had been made by Willie's parents on his behalf to Thelma, by her parents. She had been there to witness the first of their courtship rituals. 

As Thelma fell crest over claw in love with Willie, Jha'me felt a part of herself wither and die, as though she'd lost someone special for herself. Granted, they were related, although clutch-cousin marriages were no more uncommon between their own kind than they were amongst humans, and, granted, Jha'me was far too young to be mated with anyone at the time. Besides, their parents had matched Willie with Thelma, and covenants like that were seldom broken unless it was declared to be undesirable between the two would - be betrothed. 

Yet, Willie was now etched forever into Jha'me's heart, and she would measure all potential future mates up to the standards he'd set long ago. So, Jha'me kept her pain to herself, and watched the budding lovers from a distance. But, she was there when another tradgedy struck. The Leader's plan to build the military for the invasion of a distant world took favor and a draft began. Willie recieved notification that he was to attend a group interview. Days later a recruiter came to town, and all of the young men and women who'd been notified assembled and attended the meeting. A week later, an officer arrived at the door with notification for Willie. He'd been drafted. Another goodbye was at hand, yet Jha'me had no way of knowing that the worst was yet to come. The officer at the door had seen Jha'me as she'd clung to Willie and clutch called to him. As it hadn't been policy at that particular time to draft parents of young children yet, he'd informed his superior officer that perhaps William's draft card should be pulled, as it appeared that he may have a hatchling. 

A quick investigation into the matter revealed several facts. The first was that Willie was simply too young to have a hatchling of Jha'me's apparent 9 years of age. The second was that he was not married or recorded to have any hatclings of any age. The third was that the heads of the Bethkambet household had no hatchlings that young, yet they themselves were not grandparents yet. Before long, it was revealed to them just who Jha'me was...an orphaned hatchling. The orders for Willie's draft stood. When the shuttle came for him, there was another matter that was to be dealt with, simultaneously. 

That matter was the fact that it was felt that the elder Bethkambets had committed a crime when they had taken Jha'me into their home instead of remanding her into foster custody. When Willie was taken for his draft, Jha'me's Aunt and Uncle were placed under police probation for a willful violation of the Leader's code, mandating that, "Any hatchling that is orphaned or otherwise removed from parental custody shall become a ward of Government Custody before any determinations can or will be made to the hatchling's final placement." 

Jha'me was taken, that very moment, with no chance given to say goodbye to the family she'd come to love and the crowded, rambling residence on the sandy outskirts of the township of Emitha that she'd come to know as home. Soon, any sadness Jha'me, or Jaime, as she was now known to her new friends on Earth, felt, was trained out of her. She was put through Academy, and she almost welcomed the brutality of it all. The schooling she underwent was so harshly different from the Compulsory School in Emitha she'd walked to every day. Despite the comforts she'd grown accustomed to, Jha'me had always known that life could be cruel. 

Thanks to her grandfather's tales of his Crivit Wrangling feats, she'd learned a thing or two about sizing up predators. At Academy, predators were usually other classmates. By knowing things like this and learning even more, someone with her typcially gentle disposition had managed to make it through training and through the ranks of the military. It also helped when one had the ability to stop making separations and goodbyes matter anymore. 

It had hurt Jha'me when her longtime friend Orlando first spoke of his plans to leave Los Angeles and help out with the 5th Column efforts in Texas. At first, she'd hoped that he was just talking this way because of the pain and indignity Diana had caused him when she'd forced him to come along with her as her prisoner during her stay at the Halfpence Hotel. Once Orlando had recovered enough to be released from Visitor Fields, Jaime discovered that he meant what he said. Just two days ago, when his lactic acid levels had regulated, and his bones and burns had healed, he was gone. Orlando had asked Jaime if she'd reconsider and come along with him, but they had both known what the answer would be. Jaime had ties here, and Orlando did not. 

So, now Orlando was gone. It was late at night, and Jaime patrolled the parking lot first, on the graveyard shift as a security guard at Visitor Fields. The night was quite warm, and dry; rather surprising for a coastal city. Jaime supposed if she were strolling the beach, it might be different, but out here on the blacktopped lot, the evening felt very much like a night back in Township Emitha. If she were in a better mood, she supposed she might actually enjoy the feeling. Even though she tried not to let it matter, Orlando's leaving hurt, and Jaime knew just who she blamed for it all. He might still be here if...

Venom flooded her mouth and Jaime looked around quickly and alertly before allowing herself the luxury of spitting it out on the blacktop. It was best to get distracting thoughts like that off of her crest immediately and get back to her duties. She finished her parking lot patrol, punching out a violation ticket from her data pad, and affixing it to a car that had been parked in a timed slot for too long. The information would be transmitted to their accounting department for collections. It was one way Visitor Fields had to get revenue. hen, she followed a group of interns inside so she could begin her "floor sweep". This, of course, consisted of making sure that there was no one poking around in unauthorized areas, no couples were mating in janitorial closets, that high security areas were being monitored, and that all perimeter security systems and monitoring devices worked as they should. 

There was alot for her to do, but within a week, Nigel would be starting work on her shift, too. She and Nigel had already become friends, which helped ease some of the sting of Orlando's parting. After all, Nigel had recently lost his beloved older sister, and he mourned her loss deeply. Misery loved company, Jaime supposed inwardly, and one was as good as the other at hiding how they truely felt. It was the only way to survive a life in the 5th Column. 

Jaime's finely tuned senses quieted down when she rounded the corner to T-Ward. Humans termed it Intensive Care; at Visitor Fields, it was simply called the Trauma Ward. The hallway looked as normal as ever, and everything was as preternaturally quiet as a T-Ward ought to be. Most of the patients were in some sort of hybernative state, and family members were not allowed to sit around in the patients' rooms all day. They could only visit for brief, pre-allotted times, much like in human hospitals. The hallway elled past the nurse's station, and the rooms in that section were not visible from the elevator bank. 

It was past this nurse's station that Jaime knew Diana was kept. She was considered to be a "Political Patient". Orders had come from the mothership that she was to be detained here until further notice. Only Jaime knew, as a resistance insider, that there were more than a few grumbles about it from the humans who knew of this mandate and were not satisfied with it. However, for the moment, Diana's condition was listed as " Quasi-Hybernative", which was the human equivalent for "in a coma". She wouldn't be getting a trial anywhere or atoning for any crimes in her current state. The nurse at the station beckoned Jaime over to the desk. 

"Lola should be going into Queen Rezzi's room right around now," she hissed in Jaime's ear with a 5th Columnist's conspiritorial giggle. As she whispered, she pushed the security log over so that Jaime could examine it. As she suspected, everything was in order. The guards posted at the elevators and at both exits hadn't reported anything strange. All visitors had been carefully checked in and out; everyone accounted for. No one had been permitted into Diana's room, and no one had asked to go in. Jaime only allowed herself to chuckle once she'd assured herself that all looked well. 

"My Auntie would box my Vennies if she heard me talk like that!" Jaime drawled back at the nurse in mock shame. "May Zon split my tongue all the way up!" Jaime was still chuckling a little as she set the log book aside. Then, all traces of humor vanished as she turned and nodded to the guards posted beside the elevator bank. They nodded their response to her, and then Jaime began her "sweep" of the T-Ward. 

Cautiously she poked her head into the room of a young man who had been with Patricia's Commando Squad when they'd hit the Bernstien's house. She'd known him ages ago, back when she'd first been assigned to Earth. He'd been there in Louisiana with her, at the Work Camp, until he'd been selected for Patricia's Unit. His name was Lu'kath, or Lucas, on Earth. She hadn't had time to recognize him that fateful day at the Bernstiens, but instinctively, she'd known he was there. Jaime wondered if he recognized her from so long ago. She didn't know much about medical charting, but one glance at Lucas's chart told her that he was slated for transfer. Though he was asleep now, as he'd been every time Jaime had ever seen him here, his condition must have improved enough for him to be moved. Jaime allowed herself the extra moment to read his transfer orders. Mothership to Rendezvous Station, eleven hundred hours. Yes, that made sense. Rendezvous Station was where non critical patients with long term recovery prognoses were sent. But, for Lucas, it made even more sense, since his sister, Melissa, was the Chief Science Technician there. Jaime sighed softly in relief. Whatever the case, Lucas wouldn't be around after 11 a.m. tomorrow morning to cause her any problems, just in case he did recognize her. Lucas stirred softly in his bed, and Jaime stepped out of the room before he fully roused. She certainly didn't want to tempt fate. 

Moving on, she stepped into each room and took a precursory look around, as was her usual custom. Only one of the rooms she stopped in had a visitor in with the patient, and Jaime was very brief as not to be disturbing. Just as she'd been told by Tracy, the front desk nurse, Jaime found the nurse, Lola, standing over Diana's bed. Without thinking, a smile curved on the contours of her human features. She loved it when Lola was on shift. If there was one individual in all of the galaxy that couldn't stand Diana more than she herself, it was Lola. As a nurse, of course, Lola treated her patients professionally, but once she was safely at the nurse's station, jokes could be traded freely. Lola had dubbed Diana "Queen Rezzi", and she had a bevvy of other hysterically horrible nicknames for her too. In addition, Lola could do imitations of Diana's voice, mannerisms, and facial experessions, all in a hillarious caricature. One time, Jaime had related this to Nigel in preparation for his beginning employment there, and he had responded that Lydia probably would have gotten a kick out of Lola. Jaime didn't doubt it. 

"Hi, Lola, I'm just doing my rounds," Jaime announced quietly, as she stepped into the darkened confines of the hospital room. 

Lola wheeled around and faced Jaime. Her contacts were missing. "Carry on then." Lola said, woodenly. Jaime's hand relexively reached for her blaster. She only had time to raise it before "Lola" knocked it from her grasp with a roundhouse kick. Then, she sprang forward, her momentum forcing Jaime against the wall. 

A cold implement was shoved into her neck, breaking the seal of her psuedoskin. "Time for your medicine, my dear." Jaime's mind knew exactly what to do. Every basic move screamed out in her brain, right along side with the reality that Lola wasn't really Lola. Somehow, Diana had managed to fool them all. The real Lola had been stripped of her psuedoskin and was now laying half askew on the bed, eyes staring, as Jaime could now see from her pinioned vantage point... But there was nothing she could do, because it was time for her medicine. With a loud, airy hiss, the dose of drugs that had been intended for Diana had already been injected into Jaime's exposed neck, and she was sliding bonelessly down the wall. When Jaime awoke, her tongue felt like it was glued in a dry, leathery strip to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes were dry too, and hard to open. When at last, she could part her lids, she found her cousin Willie at her side. She tried to ask him where she was and what he was doing here, but she only coughed in a hoarse, unintelligible rasp. 

"Do not try to talk, Jha'me. You have had a terrible ordeal, but all will be well now. The doctors say you will recover." 

"Recover?" Jaime rasped, "From what?" Her mind was blank at first. She hadn't been blasted or injured or anything of the sort. She'd just been shot up with drugs... But Willie was talking and it was best to listen to him...

"Diana shot you full of drugs that were meant for a sick person.  You, of 
course, were not sick. At least, not until she gave the drugs to you. 
At any rate, she hid you in the bathroom so that no one would see you lying 
there right away.  You were not found for over an hour, and by then, the dose had 
already taken effect. All they could do was let you sleep it off.  They have 
been monitoring you for lactic shock, and you were in the beginning stages 
of it when you were found, but so far, you have stabilized.  How do you feel?"

Willie's voice sounded distant and tinny, but the concern in it 
registered past all the fuzziness in Jaime's aching crest.

"She got away, didn't she?'

Willie nodded mournfully.

"I am very sorry.  I do not know what to say for my incompetence."

"You are not incompetent. The hospital is simply stunned that staff 
that had close contact with her on a daily basis were fooled. I myself do not 
understand how she could have done it."

Even in her woosy state, Jaime knew better than to suggest Voodoo 
Powder.  It was likely that even Willie wouldn't know what she was talking about 
anyways. Did Quasi-Hibernative people qualify as zombies that could be brought 
back from the dead with Voodoo Powder?  She rolled her eyes against the 
thought, knowing full well that Diana hadn't used any such potion to pull off 
her amazing feat.  Cunning, desperation, and luck had been her magic combination, 
and Jaime herself had been witness to most of it.

"Is Lola dead?" Jaime asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I am afraid so.  Blunt trauma to the crest. Diana 
apparently....do you want to hear this? I take it that Lola was your friend?"

"Tell me, Willie.  I should know how she got away with this."

Willie sighed before continuing.

"Diana waited for the nurse to approach her bedside to administer her 
meds, and then she surprise attacked her.  Took her by the head, banged it 
into the wall.  It must have been hard enough to...Well, then, Diana put on 
Lola's psuedoskin and clothes,..and right after that must have been when you 
walked in."

"She heard me announce myself," Jaime continued, "So she grabbed the 
injector that Lola had brought, knowing already that I would be trouble. The 
rest is history. Let me guess that Diana is now running around dressed as Lola, 
with my blaster."

Again, Willie nodded, looking even more morose than before.

"And I can also bet I can be looking for a new job when I am 
recovered."

"No.  Like I told you, the hospital knows that this was not your fault.  
In fact, when I came up, I heard your supervisor asking Howie how long he 
thought it would be before you could come back to work. Your supervisor must 
not hold you to blame for this, or she would not want you to return to work."

When Jaime's vitals registered within normal limits, and her blood 
chemistry panels indicated that she'd eliminated the majority of the medications 
from her body, Howie released her from Visitor Fields.  She was given 
instructions to take it easy for another 48 hours before returning to work, just to be 
safe, to eliminate the possiblility that she might still be under the 
influence of any lingering ill side effects. By the time Willie drove her to her 
temporary home at the Half Pence Hotel, 23 hours had passed since Diana's escape. 
Despite the late hour, and despite her knowledge of the sleeping patterns most 
humans kept, Jaime was mildly surprised to find Ham Tyler in waiting for them 
in the hotel parking lot.  She was even more shocked that he emerged from a 
vehicle that was not his usual van.  It was a cantankerous metal contraption 
that only looked slightly more roadworthy than his van did, but by Jaime's 
standards, most human vehicles actually operated better than they looked.

Jaime was in no mood to deal with Ham Tyler.  The grim expression on 
his face told her all she needed to know.  He was angry that Diana had escaped.  
Willie seemed to sense it too.  As Ham approached the car, he tensed.  
His apprehension showed on his features as an expression not unlike 
sadness.  When Ham was two strides away from the car, Willie opened his door and stood, 
effectively using the door as a shield between himself and the man that could be 
presenting himself as an opponent.

"Do not start on her Ham.  She has had enough.  Jaime is under doctor's 
orders to get rest."

Willie was doing all he could to make himself sound tough, but Jaime 
could hear his voice waiver despite his conviction.

"Has anyone questioned her about what happened?" Ham asked, "It's 
important that we get to the bottom of it."

"She does not remember much.  Diana had everyone fooled.  That is what 
happened.  It was not Jaime's fault.  You must leave her alone now so 
she may get some rest."

"Willie, if you let her go to sleep on it for too long, she may forget 
some important details.  There's no better time than the present to pick her 
brain.  I've dealt with crime victims before, and I know how to handle 
situations like this.  Give me half an hour with her.  Between the two of us, 
we'll hammer this out and narrow the distance between us and Queen Scaly..."

"No. She needs rest.  Howie's orders." Willie insisted.

"Willie, I don't get you.  Sometimes, you can be thicker than a block 
of lead.   That crazy bitch just bashed a nurse's head into a wall to 
escape, and she got your cousin higher than a friggin' kite on tumor drugs, pain 
killers, and anti-whacko shots that were supposed to be for hers truely, just so she 
could get the hell out of Dodge.  Meanwhile, while Jaime was flying around in 
orbit, she might actually have seen something...or heard Diana tell 
someone something...you just never know...

"Willie, it is okay.  I owe Lola and Orlando this much.  I will talk 
with Ham for a little while," Jaime said quietly.  While Ham and Willie argued, 
she had quietly crept out of the passenger seat and walked around the car 
until she stood on the other side of Ham. Ham was thrown for a second.  He 
grimaced for a second, and muttered something under his breath.  Jaime thought she 
heard something about "swamp gators", but she couldn't be certain.

At the very least, both men stopped arguing and positioned themselves 
to each side of Jaime, should she falter while making her way to her room.  
Though her legs felt like they were cast out of lead, Jaime managed the trip 
with no incident. She perched herself ridgidly on the edge of her bed, awaiting 
Ham Tyler's interrogation. Meanwhile, she cast a quiet glance at her cousin 
through the thick fringe of her human eyelashes. Guilt kept her from making 
direct eye contact with him as she remembered that he shouldn't be here, 
nursemaiding her. Willie and Thelma had recently reconciled, and Willie should be at home 
with his wife and hatchlings.

Her silence was brief, though, because Ham Tyler was waiting. Before he 
could lead her with questions, Jaime began with a very accurate description 
of all events as she remembered them, up until the time that she lost 
consiousness. It was as though she was filing a verbal security report. Amazingly, 
she found that the details were still there, locked in the horrors of her 
embarrassed recollection. She wondered, briefly, if this was her just reward for 
killing the guard, Andrea, on board the mothership when she and Orlando freed 
Polly Maxwell.

"So, basically what you're saying, is that Diana is roaming around the 
greater Los Angeles Area looking like some Scaly Florence Nightengale, 
with a brain tumor the size of Texas in her head that's making her crazier than she 
already was to begin with...and she's armed to boot," Ham reiterated when Jaime 
finished, "And, to make matters worse, she conked your lights out for 
24 hours, and as a result, she has a good day's head start on us."

"Well, not exactly a day," Willie interrupted, "We've known since Lola 
was found dead and Jaime was found unconcious what happened, basically. 
That really only gave Diana roughly a six hour head start, if that..."

"That's too much of one for her. She could have ditched Lola's 
psuedoskin in that time and changed into another one."

"It is likely she did," Jaime responded flatly.

"Go fetch the Dino Detectives and tell 'em to come in here," Ham 
ordered Willie. Willie only responded with a blank stare.

"Philip and Nigel...and Stan Bernstein, too, while you're at it. He's 
adding his two cents worth from time to time."

"Oh, yes...of course," Willie replied politely, not seeming the least 
bit offended by Ham's gator humor. Jaime might have been mildly annoyed if 
Nigel's name hadn't aroused a spark of some other interest. It was suddenly 
squelched, however, when she realized that she would have to face her new friend 
with the shame of her failure.

It appeared that Willie didn't have to rouse Philip and Nigel, despite 
the late hour. Stanley Bernstein was a different matter. When they all 
showed up at Jaime's hotel room, Philip and Nigel were both alert and fully dressed. 
Stanley wore hastily thrown on clothing and he was sleepily rubbing at 
his eyes.

Any embarrassment Jaime might have felt was short lived. Nigel eased 
his way into the hotel room and took a nervous seat next to Jaime on her bed. 
Looking earnestly at her, he took her hands.

"I am most distressed to learn of your predicament, and to know that I 
was not there to aid you," he told her solemnly, "You were so brave to face 
Diana alone."

"I just wish I could have done something to stop her from getting 
away," Jaime sighed mournfully. She lowered her gaze, but as she did, her 
breath nearly stopped in her chest. Did she feel Nigel's fingers lightly press into 
her palms? Why, quite possibly...she...did...

Slowly, her gaze traveled back up to meet Nigel's, to find that he was 
still intently looking at her; his earnest expression unchanged. The others 
in the room seemed completely unaware of the significance of the moment. 
However, in the space of mere seconds, the distance of friendship between Nigel and 
Jaime was ever narrowing. She scacely had time to ponder the size of the gap, 
though. Suddenly, Ham Tyler's voice sounded through the mud of her 
thoughts, and she was forced to bring herself back to matters of a more pressing and 
unpleasant nature. Yet, she briefly had a second to wonder about a possible 
pairing between herself and Nigel...a mating of the House of Tevith to the 
House of Bethkambet. Almost laughable, really. Nearly as ridiculous as it had 
been to consider that anyone such as Orlando, a decendant of the House of 
Raman, could have found anything in common with a girl from the House of Bethkambet.  
True, the Tevith House was nowhere near as prestigious as the House of Raman, 
but...

Crivit dung had more prestige than a Bethkambet, or so it would seem.  
Thoughts like these helped bring Jaime back to the discussion of the 
possible whereabouts of the missing, crazy, and dangerous member of the 
illustrious House of Rhetatheket. Despite her own lowly lineage, Jaime was glad she was not 
a member of the Rhetatheket clutch. She would not want to have to claim 
Diana as a relation.

"So, have you two had any success in breaking into any of Diana's 
banking access codes so that we can bleed the bitch dry and, at least, limit 
her ability to buy herself any weapons or disguises?" Ham asked, not wasting any 
time getting to his point.

"None," Philip replied dryly. He then took a hesitant breath.

"Diana has already prevented any further attempts, too," Nigel 
finished, "Sometime this morning, she closed Eva Gimaldi's accounts. She 
suspects, I'm sure, that we know of this identity, so she has, with a simple phone call to 
her banking establishments, severed our ties there. Plain and simple."

"Son of a bitch," Ham swore, "What about her lizard accounts?"

"Her Sirian interests?" Philip corrected.

"Yeah. All that loot she has in the Homeworld Savings and Loan, or 
where ever."

"Diana still has it, of course, and I can still access the records 
through the institutional mainframes, if I am careful.  However, I can only 
access the records. Any attempts to manipulate funds in her accounts or any others 
from my computer would set off security triggers in the bank computers. My 
activities could then be traced."

Ham considered the information for a brief moment, obviously unhappy 
with what he'd heard. Then, he jerked his head up with a snap.

"So, if you two messing with the computers to try and crack the access 
codes to Diana's Scaly Savings will set off alarms, and if you're telling me 
that you attempted to do the same thing with the same risks with her Eva 
Grimaldi accounts here on Earth, let me ask you boys if it ever occurred to you 
just how bad off we are if she is allowed to run around free with all this 
dough.  You've had roughly a week while Queen Leatherass was hybernating in a 
coma.  In all this time, it never occurred to either of you to pull a whammy on  this 
job?"

Nigel and Philip both stared at Ham blankly. Stanley shifted 
uncomfortably from foot to foot. Jaime cast a glance to Willie, who sat silently one 
of the two chairs in the room. It became obvious to her that the only person 
who knew precisely what Ham was talking about was Ham himself.

"What is a whammy?" Nigel questioned naively.

"Maybe you've heard the tales about a certain young Starchild who 
disarmed a doomsday device just by thinking about it," Ham sneered, "Well, if she 
can think about disarming a doomsday device, don't you suppose she can 
think out an ATM code?"

"Oh, Elizabeth," Willie interjected seriously, "Yes, I suppose 
Elizabeth could do it, but Kyle would not wish for her to. It would be too much 
like her stocking the market. He would not like that."

Ham's eyes narrowed into two horizontal slits.

"Oh, Kyle would not like that," he mimiced in disgust, "Ok, fine, so 
Bates Jr. would not like that. Who gives a shit what Bates Jr. thinks. We've 
got a killer to catch. He can go get bent. But, if Elizabeth really cares 
what he thinks and wouldn't do it on that principle, there's two other 'brids. 
Why can't we stick one of them on the project?"

"Abraham volunteered already," Stanley stated, but his voice was so 
quiet, it barely registered.  Ham stopped his tirade and turned an expectant gaze 
upon the nervous man.

"He failed.  He tried very hard, and came close, I think, but in the 
end, it just didn't work out. At least he tried. I would hesitate to ask him 
again, though. He took his failure very hard."

"Well, he should not," Jaime said quietly, "After all, what was being 
asked of him was short of impossible."

"So, we're overlooking the obvious choice. Who better to vaccuum out 
Mama's accounts than Madeline?" Ham said.

At the mention of that name, Nigel made a sour face and Philip 
stiffened perceptibly.

"No," Philip finally said, with inmistakable conviction, "I can agree 
with your logic that if anyone could do it, Madeline might be able to. 
However, I was present during various times when Diana ran batteries of tests on her 
when she was smaller. Madeline never showed any particular aptitude in that 
area. Furthermore, even if she did, there's always the chance that..."

His voice trailed off for a moment as he tried to sort out his 
thoughts. Ham had no patience for his thought process, though. With a grunt that 
verged on rude, he cleared his throat, urging Philip to continue.

"I am not quite certain, because it is something I never questioned 
Diana about, or Madeline, for that fact. I am wondering, though, if Robin or 
Elizabeth might be able to present some clarity to this issue of curiosity?" he 
wondered aloud.

"What issue?" Ham snapped.

"I have always suspected that each of the hybrids have hightened 
perceptions to the emotional states of others...particularly to those they are 
bonded to by blood. If this is true, then, what about the reverse? Does Robin, for 
instance, feel more perceptually aware of Elizabeth's thoughts and 
actions...especially when those thoughts and actions relate to her? And 
if Robin does, what about Diana? If we allowed Madeline to try to break into Diana's access 
codes, would Diana sense what Madeline was up to somehow?"

Ham made a loud snort, and even Nigel shook his head doubtfully.

"You may think it sounds far fetched," Philip continued, "But I do not 
think it was any happy accident that found all three generations of the 
Rhetatheket family confronting each other in the hotel room at the same time. Yet, 
we can be fairly certain that there was no direct contact between Madeline and 
her mother, or Madeline and Patricia. She was with Elizabeth, Brandon, 
Abraham and I in Lodi at the time. So...this is what brings me back to my point."

Though the expression on Ham's face hadn't changed much, he refrained 
from any further noises. Nigel looked considerably chasened. Jaime 
considered herself convinced. As far as she could tell, Willie was too. As for Stanley 
Bernstein, he just looked as nervous as always; as if any crazy idea he 
ever heard was possible, despite it's hairbrained sound.

"I think we should just keep that poor girl away from anything that has 
to do with her lunatic mother," Jaime piped, "She got short shelled straight 
from hatching, and she just should not be put through any more misery."

"Assuming she hatched," Ham grumbled sarcastically.

"So, then, what do you suppose we should do?" Stanley asked, his lips 
pressed into a thin line.

"Well, from what I hear, she has a huge tumor in her head. There are 
not too many hospitals or clinics that are equipped to deal with her condition 
besides Visitor Fields. She is bound to either turn up somewhere for 
treatment...or she will surely die," Jaime summarized.

"Don't count on it," Ham said, "The bitch leads a charmed life. She'll 
outlast us all.  Hell, she'll outlive a cockroach in a nuclear 
holocaust."

"Embezzling from Diana's accounts will do little good in locating her," 
Nigel pointed out solemnly, "If anything, it will simply alert her to our 
attempts to find her and force her deeper underground. Frankly, I don't think 
any security overrides Madeline could attempt would be so good that an 
internal alarm wouldn't be tripped along the line sooner or later. Someone as paranoid 
as Diana would have all of her bases covered. She might have even 
engineered safegaurds against her own daughter, for all we know. I don't know how 
it could be possible, but with Diana, anything is, really."

"Yes," Willie agreed, "And one other thing."

All eyes turned to him, as he had remained largely quiet during the 
debate.

"We already have the key to finding her, I believe. Diana never gave up 
her attempts to recapture Elizabeth until she had her own starchild to play 
with. I think that she will not go far without Madeline. Not today, 
perhaps...but someday, maybe soon, when she is feeling stronger, I will bet that 
Diana will try to contact Madeline..."

"Bait," Ham stated, almost happily, "You know, Willie, sometimes, you 
really do shine. Dollars to donuts, you're right. And when she does, we'll be 
waiting to pounce on her scaly ass."

Chapter 35  Clear Skies at Night

"Is this the real life,
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see..."

~~Queen  Bohemian Rhapsody

Work at the abandoned airstrip was proceeding apace. At long last, 
there was power, all though, at first, there were frequent surges from the faulty 
power pack to wiring conversion that led to more light bulbs bursting than 
Elizabeth Maxwell could have ever been held accountable for in her brief life 
span. Surge protectors kept the majority of the sensitive equipment from 
being fried, and soon, Paul Keifer had a computer hooked up in the main hangar bay, 
ready to swap Prodigy postings and electronic mails from resistance cells around 
the country. Once he and Natty trained the others on how to use this 
novelty, they bade the members of the Los Angeles Resistance farewell and made their 
way back to the Central Valley.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Chris finally had some time to set to work in the 
scrap yard. Together, they had managed to strip various working or repairable 
engine parts from different, wrecked planes that would be compatible 
with their desired end result. The plane they hoped to salvage was a small, four 
seater Cessna that had sustained only superficial damage to it's body after 
the Visitor's attack on the air field. However, the many years of neglect it had 
endured required many of it's engine components to be replaced. 

Maggie had only been a small craft pilot in her day, not an airplane 
mechanic. However, growing up as a tomboy in Encino, she'd spent enough 
time under the hood of her older brother's various junk heap muscle cars, helping him 
fix them whenever he'd allow her to. Her knowledge of auto mechanics was 
coming quite in handy. So, too, were the various manuals and guides that were 
to be found in profusion around the main building. Coupled with Chris' natural 
puzzle solving abilities and manual dexterity, they found little in the way of 
insurmountable challenges when it came to tackling their task. With the 
help of the small plane service mechanic who'd been reccommeded by Kyle 
(apparently, he'd worked for Nathan Bates, servicing the private armada of both business 
and personal planes that Bates had owned) they'd cobbled together their 
damaged Cessna. 

It had obviously needed some fine tuning and some adjustments, but it 
took to the air, kept it's passengers safely airborne, and returned them to the 
packed dirt landing strip safely, if not smoothly. With a devil may 
care grin, Maggie jauntily exited the craft one step ahead of Chris. Then, she 
promptly vomited on the ground. But, motion sick from the turbulent landing or 
not, she was far too jubilant to let that discourage her.

On the inside, the Headquarters was little more than a communications 
command post, a meeting place, a land and air parking facility and a munitions 
dump. Gone, it seemed, were the days where Julie had to have a fully 
functional lab, and everyone had to have sleeping quarters. True to form though, there 
were fold out cots stored away, in case anyone needed a place to hide out 
for a while. There had already been a small kitchenette, and it would have to 
do. Any bigger renovations would be too costly and time consuming. 

As for a laboratory, Julie was an expert at improvisation. Little was 
needed for her here, since she had access to sophisticated equipment at 
virtually any time at EcoSound. Whatever scientific research she couldn't conduct 
there with a reasonable amount of privacy, or, as required in some instances, 
if the research was of a more medical nature, she had made valuable contacts 
at UC Med Center and at Visitor Fields. Either those individuals would do the 
research for her and provide the answers she needed if they could, or, whenever 
possible, she could be given their helpful cooperation in conducting 
whatever tests were needed, and granted secured access to their labs when it was 
feasible to do so. Therefore, Julie kept her  laboratory needs to a minimum at the 
headquarters. Really, only basic first aid and medical triage equipment 
was kept on hand. It was much safer, in the event of an attack. Less in the way of 
valuable equipment or information would be lost. It also cut down the risk of 
possible insider security breeches. Though this was not the primary concern, the 
past could bring forth too many examples of times where trusted resistance 
members had been captured and forced to talk. There had even been a few, 
isolated incidences of intentional sabotage by Visitor converted resistance 
'plants'.  

For security reasons, none of the information disks that Paul had given 
them for data storage on their new computer would be kept at the 
headquarters. Little would be downloaded on the hard drive, either. Julie was elected 
as the data custodian for the time being, but it was widely agreed that the 
custodian should be changed from time to time. Ham insisted that no one who 
currently resided at the Half Pence Hotel should keep the diskettes in their 
custody. Too many resistance members clustered too closely together invited 
disaster, in his opinion. For once, no one argued.

Even though most of the "necessary" restoration work had been done, 
people caravaned to and from the new headquarters on a frequent basis, though 
ever mindful not to attract too much attention to their comings and goings. 
Those that came in droves were those that didn't have full time jobs or demanding 
families to hold down and keep them busy. At first, a vacation by the 
poolside at the Halfpence Hotel had been a welcome respite. Then, very quickly, boredom 
set in. Mike brought a sullen Sean many days to keep him occupied and away 
from his Procorb dealing, mall rat friends. When Brandon wasn't working at the 
Tune Emporium, he brought Bram along, and sometimes, Tonya would hitch a 
ride when she wasn't job hunting. On a few of those occasions, Polly came along, 
too.

Kyle was not part of the restoration crew. On strict doctor's orders 
from Julie, he was now to take it easy. An infection had set in to his 
wound, impeding its healing progress. These days, he spent most of his time in the 
hotel room he shared with Elizabeth, gorked up on the pain pills prescribed 
for him, with his leg elevated on pillows. Since he slept alot, Elizabeth was 
finally encouraged to venture out. 

The first occasion was on Robin's insistence, to help her and Katie 
deliver some hardware supplies needed at the new headquarters. The next time 
was when she was invited to come along with Philip, Madeline, and Emily. Philip 
would be helping to install a second phone line. Madeline would be babysitting 
Emily while he did so. Elizabeth would simply be company, and perhaps, useful 
in other areas. For the first time since returning from Lodi, Elizabeth 
emerged from Kyle's shadow, and learned that he would be quite all right without her 
constant, hovering presence. She also learned, even if she felt a 
little guilty about it, that this was a welcome respite for her.

Likely, the busiest person at the new headquarters was Chris's neice, 
Rachel. Since she went where ever Chris and Maggie went, she often found 
herself at the headquarters, not that she minded. Life in the Lousiana Work Camp 
had been much harder than this, and keeping busy was simply second nature for 
her. Incoming supplies were now always inventoried, "shopping" lists of 
items that were running low were up to date and ready for whoever asked for them, 
furniture was dusted, floors were swept, holes were patched, and broken items 
were set aside and labeled for whichever handiperson, if any, could fix them. In 
addition, Rachel logged any calls that came in, took messages, relayed 
them whenever possible, and tried to make something in a pot that passed for coffee. 
If the resistance had never had an official "secretary" before, they had one 
now. Whatever tasks she couldn't do herself, she quickly saw to it to learn 
who could. 

In this way, anyone who happened into the headquarters looking for 
something to do to pass the time could always count on Rachel for an assignment.  
When Rachel did take an occasional break, she could be found leafing through 
a dog-eared copy of the Holy Bible, or once in a while, an outdated fashion 
magazine that featured all the skinny, bone thin models wearing clothes that she 
valiantly wished she could squeeze even one of her thighs in to. Though 
Rachel wasn't one to complain loudly about her weight, or anything else, she 
didn't seem to notice that her work efforts were paying off, at least some. It 
would be some time before she could be considered thin, but it was plainly 
obvious to everyone (but herself) that there was a lot more room in her clothes 
these days.

Whatever chores the various members of the resistance did to keep 
themselves busy, one thing became evident as the days passed. They had all simply 
run out of things to do, and really, all that was left to do was hurry up and 
wait. The mothership still hovered above them, despite what Orlando and Jaime 
had told them upon their initial arrival. Diana was gone, and few clues had 
surfaced as to her possible whereabouts. Everyone knew that Patricia had been 
grievously injured at the Halfpence Hotel, but then again, so had 
Diana. If Diana had managed to brazenly waltz out of Visitor Fields when she was supposed 
to be in a near comatose state, there was simply no telling if and when Patricia 
would return. Philip warned there would be no 'if' about Patricia's return. 
She would be coming back to finish what she'd begun, to which Chris Faber 
responded that he'd be there waiting to "open up a can of 'whoop-ass' on her for 
what she'd done to Rachel." (Not to mention Druid).

One morning, while manning what serviced as the "reception desk", 
Rachel was leafing through the catalogue of fall semester classes being held at 
the community college that had mysteriously surfaced at the headquarters. 
She made a questioning grimace at one of the circled courses being offered in 
"Beginning Investments and Money Management". Someone had obviously been browsing 
the magazine before her and had bookmarked some interests. Finances didn't 
interest her much. Instead, she was wanting to see what was being offered in the 
realm of an aerobics or a jazzercise class, although the idea of stuffing her 
jiggly, over porportioned self into a leotard and prancing around in front of a 
dozen svelter, washboard thin classmates was somewhat unnerving. She had 
heard that boy, Brandon Watts, laughingly refer to her as "Rocky Mountain Rachel" 
to someone, and it had stung. Sadly, it wasn't the first time she'd ever 
heard rude comments about her weight made behind her back, and she was getting 
tired of it. One of these days, she knew she would have to brave the inevitible if 
she wanted to change it. As Rachel pondered her options, the phone on the 
desk rang, temporarily ending her pursuit of a higher education.

"Lindberg Agricultural Services, how can I help you?" she greeted, 
using the fake business name they'd all agreed upon in advance to answer the call 
with.

"Rachel, it's Donovan," Mike stated on the other end of the line, "How 
many others are there with you?"

"A few. Why?"

"I'm on my way in with some news. I've been told we may have to get the 
H.Q. ready for some company."

Mike arrived in fifteen minutes with Sean, Philip, and Emily in tow. 
Moments later, Nigel and Jaime pulled up. They had finished their graveyard 
security shift at Visitor Fields just a few hours ago and hadn't even returned 
to the Halfpence Hotel to sleep yet. 

Without any announcement, the resistance members working at the H.Q. 
began assembling in the main room. Maggie emerged from the small, cramped 
bathroom, looking somewhat worse for the wear. Despite her obvious stomach 
malady, she was wearing a pair of grease stained denim overalls, and looked as though 
she'd been doing some sort of engine work. Chris, wearing a sweat stained, 
gray T-shirt and baggy jeans, looked like he had been helping. 

Now that the front facing windows had the glass in them replaced, Tonya 
and Brandon had been hanging curtain rods and white backed drapes to cover 
them. These had all been purchased at thrift shops around town. Inside, the 
look was decidedly mismatched, as always, but it effectively worked. In the 
"janitorial closet", Polly and Bram had been sorting various boxes of ammunition 
for easy storage. One shelf, for instance, held bins devoted for 'standard 
ammo', while another went to 'teflon coated', and still another, small area was 
devoted for practice blanks and paint pellets, while another shelf was set 
aside for specialty equipment like darts for cross bows and tranquilizer guns. 
This way, it was easier to inventory what was running low. However, keeping it 
organized was a never ending task that required someone to always stay on top of 
it. Once they heard Mike's arrival, Polly and Bram called a quit to their 
inventory, even though this particular job was one of Polly's favorites. 

Nigel cleared his throat once he had the attention of everyone 
assembled. He clearly looked nervous that he had "command" of the situation, and that 
he had more intelligence at the moment than Philip, who had once been his 
superior.

"I have received some highly classified information from Howie, who has 
just been notified from a high ranking 5th columnist on board the 
Mothership," he started.

"Who would that 5th Columnist be?" Philip questioned, somewhat 
perplexed at the notion of not having the slightest hint at where this information 
was coming from.

"Howie could not tell me, though I asked him," Nigel returned quietly.

Philip fell silent, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

"Go on," Polly prodded, impatiently.

"From what I have been told, the Mothership will be departing Los 
Angeles airspace within 24 hours, and is scheduled to dock at Rendezvous 
Station eighteen hours later. Patricia has ordered a scientist there to help her create 
some sort of bio weapon that she plans to use when she reinvades..."

"Bio weapon?" Mike echoed, "Like the Visitor's answer to the Red Dust?"

"I do not know, exactly, but let me finish. Apparently, this scientist 
has no plans to help Patricia. Instead, she is using this very narrow window 
of time to plan her escape from Rendezvous Station."

"Well, I guess this confirms our fears that the Bitch in Black is alive 
and kicking," Brandon sniffed, "Though I don't see how she could be. From 
what I heard from Robin, it was like...Death by Coat Hook!"

"Pa'theha is unstoppable," Sean stated, almost as if by mantra. A few 
worried glances turned his way, but his expression was so completely neutral 
that no one could judge what he was thinking. Only Philip continued to look 
perturbed by Sean's use of the assassin's Sullam Voe name.

"What we need to do is find a place for the scientist to hide out. If 
Patricia gets her claws on this poor woman, all he-  Well, if you 
humans have some better way of saying it without the use of an expletive, I would be 
happy to say it, but...all hell will break loose. I have heard of this scientist 
from an officer I used to work with in a work camp in Louisiana," Jaime 
explained, trying to avoid the horrified look that came across Rachel's face as 
she began her tale, "This officer I knew, Lu'kath, is the brother of this scientist. 
He said his sister is...like...Diana. Brilliant, if you know what I mean."

"Great. Another nutbag," Tonya muttered stoicly.

"No," Nigel insisted, "She is rumored to be quite sane. 5th column."

"I can confirm this," Philip added quietly, "I have met her 
personally."

"So, let me guess," Polly interjected, "This scientist is the guest 
that we're going to be holing up here at the H.Q."

"That would be a correct guess," Nigel responded, oblivious to the 
sarcasm dripping from the young woman's tone.

Tonya made a rude face and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose I got a job at just the right time..." she stated, 
letting her voice trail as a hint.

Polly jerked her head in her friend's direction, and her eyes flew open 
wide. 

"You did?!" she exclaimed, "That's fantastic! You've been searching for 
practically forever!"

"Yeah, that is great," Brandon said, "But what has you getting a job 
got to do with some lizard scientist staying here at the H.Q.? Were you 
thinking you were gonna get stuck gatorsitting her if you were still unemployed?"

"No, you jackass!" Tonya responded. She might have laughed if she 
didn't remember the disaster Brandon had wraught when he'd had to take his 
turn "Gatorsitting" Bram's mother Laura two years before.

"No, actually, I got hired at Pandora's Pet Palace...get it?"

Brandon wrinkled his nose and shrugged his shoulders. Simultaneously, a 
look of horror began to spread across Rachel's face.

"Oh, I get it!" Bram quipped from beside Polly, "The new scientist 
won't have to worry about where she'll get her next meal...."

Tonya awarded him with a slightly nauseated smile.

"Hey, I wouldn't mind working there," he stated innocently. Polly 
turned and gawked at him in horror, as did Rachel, but Bram was completely 
oblivious to their stares. Actually, the only thing he was aware of at the moment 
was the fact that his stomach was rumbling. Fortunately, he was the only one 
that noticed.

"So, then, we should expect to bring her here when we get word of her 
arrival?" Nigel interjected purposefully, trying unsucessfully to 
stifle a yawn.

"Are we the only ones voting?" Maggie asked, making her presence in the 
room known for the first time since her arrival.  Beside her, Chris stood, 
tall and hulking, with his arms crossed over his bulging front.

"For now, I'd say we're it," Mike stated, "We don't know exactly when 
she'll arrive. From the information we've received, we can expect the 
mothership to pull out of here just about any time now...and she'll arrive any time 
after that. So, I'd say we'd better decide our course of action quickly."

"If she is running from Patricia, like Elizabeth, Madeline and me, then 
I think that makes her one of us," Bram said emphatically, "I think we 
should hide her."

"I've about had it with that looney witch. The last thing I want 
hanging around here is more bait for her..." Rachel said.

"We shouldn't agree to hide someone we don't even know. How do we know 
she's on the up and up?" Polly questioned.

Chris grunted his agreement to both Rachel and Polly's statements, a 
look of rabid anger shining in his eyes at the mention of Patricia's name. 
Maggie didn't verbally cast a vote, but she took a few steps closer to Chris. 
Mike, Tonya, Brandon and the fifth columnists had yet to cast their votes, 
but suddenly, Bram stood up and faced Rachel, Polly, Chris and Maggie.

"Look, my grandparents have been running a resistance safe house for 
years. Maybe I haven't been around very long, but I've been around long enough 
to see them take in people and hide them from the Visitors...People they 
don't even know. They helped Brandon and Tonya; Orlando and Jaime...it doesn't 
matter if they're human or not. My Grandmother almost died helping others, but 
she never stopped to question what she was doing or why. She knows why. My 
Grandfather knows why. He knows because he was smuggled out of Nazi Germany in a 
suitcase when he was a baby and kept at a safe house until his Dad was freed 
from a concentration camp! I have no doubts in my mind where this scientist 
could go if our house wasn't still wrecked up... But we're still fixing it. So, 
until it's fixed, I don't care what the rest of you think, I will keep her 
safe here!"

Polly bit her lip, and smiled up at Bram.

"You're right, y'know? Your parents hid my whole family in their 
poolhouse, despite the danger." She tactfully kept her mouth shut about the 
remainder of the events that day, including about how Bram's father had wound up in 
the Bernstein's pool after he'd drug Robin out of the poolhouse and 
drunkenly declared he intended to force her to marry him.

Mike gave Bram a pat on the back.

"I agree with you. I vote we should hide her out, although I do err on 
the side of caution. She should also be questioned by a trusted member of 
the fifth column, like Nigel, Jaime or Philip."

"Yeah, and she should be kept under strict guard," Maggie said.

"I s'pose it's better than having her out there on the loose," Chris 
mused, chomping thoughtfully on his Juicyfruit.

No one else verbally stated their opinions on the matter, but even 
without speech, it appeared that Bram's words had sunk in. Wordlessly, Rachel 
rose from her chair at the reception desk and dissappeared into a small anteroom. 
She returned a few moments later with a resigned expression on her face.

"We have a roll away cot, but we'll need a blanket and a pillow for 
it," she reported in a flat drawl.

"Not a problem," Mike said, "So, I guess the matter is settled."

*************************************************************
An early morning transmission from David was the cue Melissa needed to prepare her charges for the day's activities. First, she'd made certain that all files pertaining to her research projects were safely downloaded and stored on a portable computer that she carried with her. Secondly, she also stored the medical records that David had authorized the Mental Health Hospice where Se'there had been institutionalized to transfer to her care. She planned to give these to him when she next saw him, because there was some information contained within that he needed to see. Any necessary (and portable) lab equipment she might need was already secured aboard the shuttle she'd be using for her escape. So, too, were the provisions that she and her travelling companion would need for their time in route. Now, all that was left to do was grab her charge and run. (Without being detected). David had assured her that someone was coming to ensure that it would look as though the lab had been obliterated and Melissa killed. 

Melissa slipped into her lab, taking one last wistful, but quick look around. Then, she keyed the sequence into the pad that allowed her access to her anteroom. There, she found Th'ian, busily stripping down and folding up the metal legs of the cot that he had slept upon for the last several weeks. When he was finished, he stowed it, legthwise, on the wall racks, with the rest of the extra med bay cots. The bedding was merely wadded up and tossed into the laundry bin with the rest of the soiled laundry from the patient's beds. 

He was dressed for travel in a freshly laundered uniform, and his psuedoskin was on, but he bore only a slight resemblance to the man he'd been before, when he'd served his first assignment on Earth. Today, he was several pounds lighter, as repeated bouts of a serious respiratory illness had taken it's toll on his frame. His outward appearance was still caucasian, but instead of blonde, his hair color had been changed to a medium brown.He also had new contacts. Instead of the mesmerizing blue ones he'd had before, these ones were hazel. The earlier protests that Th'ian had voiced about returning to Earth were quiet now. Melissa was grateful to see the change in his attitude. Even if he didn't seem excited or relieved, at least he wasn't moody or despondent anymore. 

She vaguely wondered if any of her Post Creche Deprogramming Therapies were working with him. Th'ian was an excellent subject to work with. His mind was still strong; his reasoning skills still somewhat normal, and he appeared to be sane, despite his Creche training. 

"I hardly recognized you," Th'ian remarked to her as he finished the last of his tasks. A round of coughs overcame him, shaking his frame from his recent exertions. Fortunately, he recovered quickly and wasn't required to take a hit from his prescribed inhaler. 

For the first time, Melissa seriously considered his fears about his returning to Earth. Granted, the reports seemed to substantiate that the Red Dust was all but neutralized in the warmer climates. However, Th'ian had suffered from a prolonged, enclosed contact with a substantial quantity of the toxin. It had caused him to go into acute lactic shock, which had then caused him to fall into a state of hibernation shutdown. Since his respiration and heartbeat had all but slowed to nearly nothing at that point in time, Melissa supposed it may have well been what saved his life. However, it hadn't happened in enough time to prevent permanant damage to his lungs. She hoped that exposure to any minute traces wouldn't result in a repeat episode of lactic acidosis. Interestingly enough, though, the lab tests she'd been able to conduct with samples of his blood and cultures of the red dust showed that his body was quickly developing antibodies to the toxin. To this date, his blood was the only sample she'd obtained that did manufacture antibodies...a fact she found puzzling. For now, it was also a fact she kept to herself. 

"I suppose it is good that you do not recognize me. For the record, you do not look much like the Th'ian that left the Homeworld, either. I do not think you will be recognized," she responded. 

"This is a good thing." 

"From now on, you are to be known as 'Theo'. David has authorized your passes and made new scans for you. We will work on your history on the journey to Earth," Melissa stated. 

"Very well, then." 

"Remember, Theo, all the training you received as a hatchling was..." Melissa swallowed past the lump in her throat, realizing something else for the first time. Her Creche Deprogramming Therapy was about to be put to the test. She had to put her trust in Theo now if the three of them were going to make it off of Rendezvous Station undetected. 

"Hurtful and demoralizing." 

"Yes, Theo. But they did not break you, and your mind is your own now. It is time for us to go..." 

There was time for only a brief mental checklist. Outwardly, Melissa knew that she looked different. David had suggested that she smuggle a new psuedoskins for herself, from the stock used to outfit the new recruits that were constantly being shipped to Rendezvous Station. To further avoid detection, Melissa had selected the skin from the 'reject' pile...skins that were discarded because of minor defects or irregularities. Her skin had "dye lot" skin tone discolorations in places that were completely hidden beneath clothing. Of course, such defects were not acceptable for recruits being sent to Earth disguised as 'perfect human beings'. For Melissa's purposes, she couldn't care less. She was more concerned about 'skinventory'. By using a discarded one, Melissa was able to avoid any inventory counts of wharehoused skins coming up short. Thi'an's, on the other hand, had been All medical supplies that couldn't be carried, all grooming needs, and all changes of clothing were already on board their escape shuttle. The computer files and portable needs were in the rectangular shaped case that looked for all the world like an ordinary technician's repair kit. 

Melissa was dressed as a technician, while Theo wore a guard's uniform. Like any guard, he was armed, and Melissa was glad for it. Finally, Melissa felt confindent enough to proceed. Clutching the repair kit tightly in her grip, she took a deep breath and keyed the door out of the supply room. Only instead of spilling them out into her lab, this door opened into the Med Bay. At present, there was only one patient admitted here, and he was under the care of the Rendezvous Station Surgeon. Fortunately, he was also fast asleep. The surgeon was not present at the moment, and Melissa did not check the duty roster to find out where he was. There was no time. Another cot was quickly being prepped. Melissa forced herself to ignore the proceedings. She knew who that cot was for. Pa'theha would be arriving soon, and preparations were being made for her convalesence. Nearby, a second cot was also being readied. Melissa pretended not to know that it wasn't for her brother, Lu'kath, who was being transferred in, right along with Pa'theha, his commander. It was best just to forget these things, for in mere hours, she would be dead to them. 

Melissa navigated her way through the bay and the corridors and Theo brought up the rear, just as any guard should. To any passer by, they looked nothing out of the ordinary. Once out of the reletive safety of the Med Bay, Melissa felt her pulse pick up as though she had decided to lay beneath a sun lamp. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. Theo looked alert. His posture was poker-straight; his pace brisk and purposeful. Around them, business on Rendezvous Station continued as usual. New recruits were being put through drills on one of the lower decks. Melissa was quite familiar with the next deck down. It was the Physical Activity Deck, where the gyms, tracks, target ranges, sporting arenas, and competition rings were located. It was also where the Physical Restoration Bay was housed for Kinetic Therapy patients. Melissa couldn't help an inward smile as she envisioned all of the torture Pa'theha would have to go through at the hands of the Kinetic Therapists. The next deck they passed down through was the Mess Deck, and finally to the Landing Bay. Melissa reached into the pocket of her coverall for the shuttle pass that would allow her access to the shuttle she'd been assigned. She'd managed this far without an incident, and she supposed that this was likely to be the trial moment. 

With the pass in claw, (or hand..or whatever appendage she'd be using from this moment forward), she stepped up to the control booth. The booth guard took the pass without hardly a glance at her and scanned it. "You've been authorized to use shuttle XE-207", he told her in their native tongue, "Proceed to E-Dock, space 207." 

"Thank you," she responded curtly, in Sirian. Then, she looked up at the post above the control booth and realized that they'd entered the Docking Bay in the B-Dock. They were three holds away from their final destination. Fortunately, Theo had overheard the guards instructions and was also aware of their situation. When Melissa returned, he jerked his head towards the ground transporters that made rounds and carried passengers from one vast bay to another. 

Ten minutes later, they were let off in the E-Dock, though it was still quite a walk to space 207. The shuttle looked just like any other, but once they let themselves inside, Melissa could tell immediately that it was not. David was a very clever man, and whoever worked for him was clever, too. Everything they needed for their journey was stocked up neatly, just as she'd been promised. There were even two emergency oxygen masks, and two space crash suits, in the event of a disaster. Space was cramped, but it would be adequate. If they travelled at the top speeds this shuttle allowed, they'd enter Earth's atmosphere in about 22 hours. The craft certainly was not the fastest within Rendezvous Station's fleet. 

However, David had wanted to ensure that Melissa and her crew would have enough time to get off Rendezvous Station before Pa'theha arrived on board the Mothership. However, he'd also wanted to make certain that her shuttle would not arrive on Earth before the Los Angeles Mothership was scheduled to depart Earth's atmosphere. Melissa was aware that there was a small chance that this might be the case. In the event this should happen, Melissa had been told that the shuttle was stocked with a few day's extra provisions of pre packaged protein meals and water capsules. She was to devert the shuttle to it's pre-programmed alternate landing bay and wait for the mothership to leave before proceeding to her primary destination. Melissa knew little about the Primary Destination, save for the fact that it was managed by '5th Columnists' and human resistance members. She and Theo were to be housed at their headquarters until such a time that they could make their own living arrangements. The shuttle was already programmed with it's coordinates. She knew even less about the secondary destination, which was simply called Area 51. Supposedly, it was located close enough to Los Angeles to where she would be able to know when the Mothership departed. There was an observatory there where she'd have access to a telescope for better confirmation of this fact. However, it was seated far enough away to where she wouldn't likely be detected by any of the Mothership crew. Also, it was supposedly abandoned. Melissa was only a fair pilot, as she spent most of her time in a laboratory. No one graduated Academy without passing a few basic courses in piloting, and for these, she was suddenly grateful. She quickly learned that all she had to do was key in the lift off sequence. Then, she guided the shuttle out of it's space and into the main bay, where she had to await her departure clearance from the traffic control tower. Moments later she was given the all clear. With a sudden jolt, the shuttle catapulted out of the bay and into the dark, cavernous maw of outerspace and the unknown. 

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

The Club Deux was hopping, as was the usual custom for a Saturday night in July. Willie found himself checking a lot of patron's I.D.'s to make certain that those requesting alcoholic beverages were at least 21 years of age. His blenders were working overtime, whipping tasty and potent potables for Human and Sullam Voe customers alike. 

In the sea of faces were a few familiar ones besides those that he worked with. Robin was here tonight, which was a surprise, considering that she spent much of her time looking after her younger sister Katie. At the same table sat Madeline, who had been served a drink of some sort, though Willie was unable to determine if it contained alcohol. He was also puzzled as to whether or not a Starchild fell under the same drinking age laws as the other patrons. He knew enough not to question Antonio, his bar assistant. Antonio most assuredly had not known that Madeline was a hybrid when he'd served her, and Willie knew better than to point that out to him. In addition to these two, Chris Faber's neice was dining with them, and so was Elizabeth. Willie had been in a bad mood at the start of his shift because he and Thelma had fought before he came to work. However, he noticed that his foul mood was starting to dissipate some. Willie supposed that seeing Elizabeth again after not having been able to for a few days might be why. He considered them to be special friends since he'd witnessed the moment of her birth. Perhaps, he was like her guardian angel. 

At the moment, though, he didn't feel much like an angel. Instead, he truely felt embarrassed, because, for the life of him, he could not remember the name of Chris Faber's niece. That depressed him. She really seemed to be a nice member of the human species. Tall, somewhat heavier than the other ladies at the table, and very soft spoken with pleasant tones to her voice like the ones his cousin was trained to speak with, he remembered that the young woman had reacted quite politely when she'd been told of Willie's true nature. Once again, a cloud of despair washed over Willie, and he diverted his gaze to concentrate on his task of stacking cleaned shot glasses beneath the counter to be ready for the next wave of thirsty customers that would come to be served at the bar. 

"Say, my man, what's with the long face? You look like someone stole your puppy," a familiar voice sounded behind him. It was Elias, of course, looking debonair as usual in a pair of dress slacks and a crisply ironed shirt. Willie immediately straightened his slumping posture in an attempt to restore some dignity to his pose. 

"Nothing," he responded haltingly, "I just..." 

"'Just'? Hmmmm. 'Just'. Well, with you, 'just' could mean about anything, and it usually ain't good," Elias mused. He then slapped Willie on the shoulder companioniably. "C'mon, bro. What gives?" 

"Well," Willie sighed, "I noticed that Robin and Elizabeth are here with Madeline and...Chris Faber's niece..." 

"Yeah, Rachel. She's filling them in on some 411...and the 'birdie' is gonna fill me in later, if you get my drift..." 

"Rachel!" Willie exclaimed, almost loudly, "Yes, that's it!" 

"Huh?" Elias asked. 

"I...um...well, thank you for remembering her name for me. I felt terrible, because I had forgotten Rachel's name." 

"You've got to be kidding." 

"No, I am a frayed knot. I was not kidding. I forgot her name." 

"You mean that's what you was so upset about? Shit, Willie, I think maybe you need a vacation or something...If having a brain fart gets you all uptight like that..." 

"Brain fart?"

"Never mind, Willie. It's just a term. What I meant was..." 

"I know what you mean, Elias. But, no. It is not all there is. Thelma and I had fight before I came to work," he explained. 

"You serious? Oh, man, Willie, that sucks. What's her trip this time? I mean..there hasn't been any raids, so it's not like she can be mad about that, so what is it now?" Elias pressed. 

"I do not know exactly," Willie sighed, "But I know that it is hard sometimes, when we are both so busy with work and the children. You know, we do not have much time alone..." 

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean there." 

"So, the kids were napping for a little while this afternoon before I came to work, and that was when the arguement started. So, I thought of those tips that you told me...you know, like how you handle things when Miranda is in a bad mood. Instead of fighting with Thelma, I tried being extra nice to her. When she said something about being homesick, I knew she must be sad...and I remembered what you said you did when Miranda got like that when she was pregnant with Hope. You said singing to her cheered her up, so I sang to Thelma..." 

"Yeah?" Elias said, "You did? Did it work?" 

"No," Willie said mournfully. "It made her even angrier. She slammed into the bedroom and would not even say good bye to me." 

Elias scowled in surprise for a moment. "Either your singing really sucks or...Uh, Willie, what did you sing to her?" 

"I sang that song that I have heard you sing to Miranda. The one that makes her laugh." 

"Which one is that?" 

"I do not know who sings it, but it goes like this..."I like big butts and I cannot lie...You other brothers can't deny..." 

"Sir Mixalot? You sang Baby's Got Back to Thelma?!?! Shit, no wonder she dissed you! Willie, dude, when I meant sing to her, I had some Freddy Jackson in mind...y'know...like 'You Are My Lady'. That's what I used to sing to Miranda when she got the pregnant blues...I sure didn't sing no song about red beans and rice not missin' her booty!" Elias cried. Then, in spite of himself, he began to chuckle, trying to hide it behind his hand. 

"I do not understand it then," Willie sighed, "I have heard you sing that song to Miranda, and she laughs. Why does it not make Thelma laugh?" 

"Cuz, my man, Miranda has a sense of humor. Even a mop has more of a sense of humor than Thelma has. Look, man, I'm sorry to have to say something like that 'bout your old lady, but she's so damn uptight, that if you shoved a lump of coal up her butt, you'd get a diamond in two weeks. See, Miranda knows that I think she's a goddess. She also knows that she does have a healthy helping of boo-tay..." 

"Boo-tay?" Willie echoed. 

"Butt, Willie. Miranda is always bitching about her Tia's cooking and how it's making her butt big, man. See, in my eyes, though, I like what her Tia's cooking is doing to her caboose...so I sing that song to her to let her know that whatever junk she think she's got in her trunk is a treasure to me, get it? And...Miranda gets what I'm tellin' her...and she thinks it's funny, too. But, timing has somethin' to do with it, Willie. I'd never toss that at Miranda if we was fightin'. I don't think she'd find it too funny then...in fact, she'd probably kick my ass." 

Willie reflected on Elias's wisdom for a moment, several questions swimming through his mind that he could somehow never form the words quickly enough to ask. Before his thought process could untangle itself much more, a vibration began to hum slightly within the walls and the fixtures of the building. He could feel it in his fingers, which were resting on the wood of the countertop. The human diners, and even Elias appeared to be unaware of the disturbance, but Willie noticed that a few of the Sirian patrons had snapped their attention away from their dining concerns and were looking around. He was unable to tell what the vibration was coming from, or what was causing it. 

"Willie? You alright, man?" Elias asked, suddenly aware of Willie's strange behavior. 

"Yes, I am alright, but...there is a vibration. I feel it, and so do some of the customers." 

"I don't feel nuthin'," Elias responded, but he looked out at the dining room and quickly took stock of what Willie noticed. He also noticed that the two hybrids sitting at the table with Robin and Rachel weren't ignorant to the disturbance. Moments later, the cyclic vibrations increased, and now Elias could feel them. For the first time, some of the human customers were looking up from their tables in curiosity. Some of the Sirians were out of their seats peering out of windows. By now, any diners that hadn't felt anything could judge that something was going on simply by the behavior of the other patrons. Grabbing his dinner jacket from behind the counter and straightening his clip-on tie, Elias stepped out from behind the bar and into the dining room, prepared to do anything necessary to put his customers at ease. Willie followed Elias, stopping only when he heard a hiss of air summoning him and Elias to the table occupied by Robin's party. 

"Willie, do you feel it?' Elizabeth asked him quietly. 

"Yes, I do. I have no idea what it is." 

"I think I do," Robin said, with a slight edge to her tone. "Think about it. We've all heard this sound before, right?" 

"The mothership," Madeline muttered, staring down into her drink. She watched as the vibrations made the ice cubes in the glass rub together as if they were shivering in fear. 

"My gosh!" Rachel exclaimed, "You think the mothership is leaving!?" 

"Or another one is coming like when Pamela-" Willie started. 

"The mothership is leaving?" Rachel's exclamation had been heard, and suddenly, it was being repeated around the restaraunt like a shot. Before Elias could get a soothing word in edgewise, customers began to pour out into the parking lot in a mass exodus. Staring at the confusion, Elias was speechless. Willie nudged him when Miranda approached the group. She had come from the kitchen area, where the staff had been working when they noticed the vibrations themselves. 

"What's going on?" she questioned breathlessly, as she watched customers pour out the doors to assemble in the parking lot, "Is there a raid or something? Half the staff is afraid that the INS showed up for a surprise inspection..." 

"No," Elizabeth told her, "It's the vibrations. It sounds like the engines on the mothership are powering up." 

"Yeah, I recall something that Jaime and Orlando told us when they brought Polly back. They told us that the mothership was going to leave. Does anyone else remember that?" Robin asked. 

"I do recall that now," Miranda replied, "But seeing's believing. Let's go have a look for ourselves out the back door in the kitchen. It won't be so crowded." 

As the group threaded their way into the kitchen, the vibrations increased to a resonating throb that rivaled the bone rattling subwoofers installed with the stereo system in Elias's car. The kitchen staff had all but deserted the area, and the back door stood wide open. They were all outside in the employee parking area, staring up into the evening sky. At first, there wasn't much to see. The mothership that had hovered in the sky for nearly as long as anyone could remember was still there, hogging up airspace, and blocking the view of the dusky horizon. Then, a hazy corona of vapor appeared around the ship as the vibrations increased even more yet. Slowly, the mothership began to tilt. When it reached a 45 degree angle, it also began to rotate. The vapor cloud that had been surrounding the ship began to dissipate at this point, as if the vessel's motion had created enough air disturbance to blow it away. Finally, with one last round of tooth jarring vibrations, the vessel had gathered enough momentum to propel it's gargantuan mass out of Earth's atmosphere and out into space. 

To everyone's amazement, the ship did just that; slowly at first, but rapidly gathering speed as it continued on it's outbound course. Within two minutes, only a rainbow of vapor fumes and a faint residual humming was all that remained of the Los Angeles Mothership. As darkness claimed the sky, hardly any one could tear their eyes off of the piece of the horizon they hadn't been able to gaze upon for years. 

Chapter 36  Those Left Behind

Just a little uncertainty can bring you down...
And nobody wants to know you now..
And nobody wants to show you how..

So if you're lost and on your own,
You can never surrender.
And if your path won't lead you home,
You can never surrender.
And when the night is cold and dark,
You can see, you can see light,
'cuz no one can take away your right
to fight, and
to never surrender....

~~Corey Hart   Never Surrender

Nearly two hours passed before Rachel had a chance to pass on the 
information to Robin, Elizabeth and Madeline about the eventual arrival of the AWOL 
5th Column scientist from Rendezvous station, who would be hiding out at 
the new H.Q. As an added bonus, though, Willie, Elias and Miranda were informed 
at the same time. The parking lot remained crowded for some time after the 
departure of the Mothership, but business resumed quickly enough. Many of the 
patrons looked upon the event as a celebration. Soon, Willie's bank of blenders 
was vibrating nearly as much as the mothership had been earlier, to keep up 
with the customer's demands. 

Robin handed the keys to Elizabeth and downed a strawberry daiquiri 
herself. Even though she knew that the gaping space in the sky didn't mean that 
there still wasn't trouble, she couldn't help feeling ecstatic. Common sense 
told her that she shouldn't, but the daiquiri she slurped had a way of telling 
that nagging voice of common sense to shut up. She wasn't alone by a long 
shot, either. All around her, people were getting sloshed. She'd seen Willie sneak a 
nip just before he returned to work. Rachel and Elizabeth kept their drinks 
virgin, as had Madeline at the start of the evening. However, Madeline was not 
as naive as Elizabeth had been at this stage in her life. Though Robin couldn't 
quite say that Madeline passed for legal drinking age, Antonio seemed to 
think so. Now, he was serving her a second Long Island Iced Tea. Robin debated 
whether or not she should say something, but quickly thought better of it. She 
didn't want to be a party pooper. Instead, she ordered herself a second 
daiquiri, only this one was an extremely alcoholic banana. Despite her journey towards 
inebriation, she took a few minutes to reassure Elizabeth that she knew 
her limits, and she would not get drunk like Kyle had. This would be it for the 
night.

When Rachel excused herself to get her Uncle Chris's car back home, 
they all took their cue to leave. Elizabeth only had a dummied driver's lisence 
under an alias name, but she had been driving for a couple of years now, and 
Robin trusted her daughter's abilities enough to know that she'd get them 
back to the Halfpence Hotel safely. The scene in the parking lot at the hotel 
wasn't much different than the one they'd left at the Club Deux. Lounge chairs from 
the pool area had been brought out, and someone had a Smokey Joe portable 
barbeque, grilling hot dogs. 

Of course, the crowd out here consisted of resistance members and fifth 
columnists, so their celebration was somewhat more reserved. People sat 
in clusters, having quiet coversations that looked a little bit like 
planning strategies. For the first time in ages, Lynn Bernstein sat amongst the living, 
looking almost childishly small in the lounge chair she occupied. Her arm was 
encased in a heavy cast and further supported with a padded sling. Stanley hovered 
close by her, not looking any less stressed by the absence of the mothership. 
Perhaps, she mused inwardly, that Stanley was concerned because it 
didn't seem that Polly and Bram had returned from the headquarters yet.

Robin quickly scanned the scene, searching for her younger sisters. 
Amir had offered to keep an eye on Katie while Robin, Madeline and Elizabeth met 
with Rachel. She didn't need to look far. Katie and Medina had situated 
themselves on a flight of stairs that faced the parking lot, where there was 
plenty of light from the exterior bulbs on the landing, to play a game of Uno. 
Robin glanced at her watch and smiled. There was no need to disturb her 
little sister's game of cards. It was 9:30, and there were no more illusions to be had 
about Katie finishing summer school this year. It just wasn't meant to be. 
Tonight was one of those rare occasions where a 12-year-old girl would get to stay 
up late.

"I should go check on Kyle," Elizabeth said matter of factly. 
Naturally, he wouldn't be a part of the parking lot gathering, since Julie had 
ordered him off his leg. At least, he wouldn't be down there if he thought, for 
five seconds, that Julie might show up, see him, and light into him. 
And...he wasn't anywhere where he was likely to be tossing back beers, getting lit like 
a hurricane lamp in a storm.

"Yeah, he might have missed the whole thing," Robin replied breezily.

"It was not like there was much to see," Madeline sniffed, sounding 
somewhat morose, but surprisingly sober for all she'd had to drink at the Club 
Duex.

"No, the departure of the Mothership wouldn't be the spectacle," 
Elizabeth stated, "It would be the sky now, without it. Take a good look, 
Madeline, because you've never seen the sky this way...and if the Mothership 
comes back, you may come to appreciate this night. It's one of those things we don't 
take for granted."

Robin agreed wholeheartedly, but though she wouldn't say she was drunk, 
exactly, she certainly wasn't sober enough to put things as eloquently 
as Elizabeth had done. Madeline did look up and study the sky, but she did so with 
an expression on her face that betrayed a mixture of emotions. Robin had 
no idea why she might be sad about the mothership leaving, but she did have enough 
insight into Madeline's situation to know that her time on Earth hadn't been 
very pleasant. 

However, who as of late, could say that their time here had? If she was 
the sort to give advice, she might tell the girl that you got out of life 
what you put into it. Lord only knew, she'd spent enough of her youth 
complaining about the hardships she'd been dealt. Though she'd never shirked the 
responsibilities of dealing with them, she only found that things got 
easier when she accepted her lot with the grace of an adult instead of the grief of a 
child. And, to add to that, sometimes, if one wanted to find joy in life, one couldn't 
wait to find it; one had to make it happen. Those pearls of wisdom were hard 
enough to live by, let alone to pass on to a half grown hybrid who wasn't even 
her own daughter.

Madeline looked back down, and for a moment, her eyes met with Robin's. 
She seemed to understand, in that odd way of a hybrid's, that Robin had 
been contemplating something that had to do with her. She offered her a weak 
smile.

"I will be alright. The Mothership was my first home. It is gone now. 
It is strange to look up and not see it there anymore and to know that I must 
find a new home. But, I have known this for some time, I guess..."

"Yeah, sure, I suppose it must be kind of weird. Trust me, I know how 
you feel there. Resistance life is a lot of hit and run housing. You'll sort 
of learn to make your friends and your own heart your home, I guess," Robin 
replied, taking an uncertain look into her own murky future. The Halfpence Hotel 
was only a temporary roosting spot for many of it's resistance and fifth column 
tenants. 

"You must learn to trust fate," Elizabeth added, "I know that you have 
some of the same instincts that I do. Try to find some peace within yourself 
so that you can develop them. Then, you'll be able to hear the voice of fate 
speak to you."

"I have heard some other voices speak about the things I should do," 
Madeline sighed, "And then there is Philip. He thinks I should continue to 
expand upon my knowledge. Unfortunately, expanding upon my knowledge is doing 
nothing to solve other problems."

"What problems?" Robin asked.

"Well, Brandon, for one. He is still hounding me for his ten dollars, 
and I do not have the money to pay him. I do not have the money for anything, 
especially since Mother took off and closed off the access to her bank 
accounts. I am thinking that I must get a job soon. In order to do that, though, I 
know I will have to pretend that I am someone else that is not a hybrid...and 
that my...um...that Ham will have to help me with that."

Robin stifled an uncontrollable snort.

"Now I know why you look depressed. Good luck!" she hooted.

"Do you think this is a bad idea?"

"No, I don't think it's a bad idea, Madeline. I mean, welcome to the 
real world. I'm not sure what you're qualified to do, but that's why there's 
entry level jobs, y'know? For people with no job experience. We'll find you 
something. But...in the meantime..."

"Mother, are you serious about Madeline getting a job?" Elizabeth 
asked, incrediously.

"Well, yah, Elizabeth. She's not like you, with a rich boyfriend and 
dead relatives with mediocre trust funds to take care of her. I mean...she's 
got a relative with a trust fund, but...Well...that's beside the point. It's 
not available. She has to do something beside sponge off of others, right? 
But, maybe Madeline shouldn't be the one to approach Ham."

"Huh? If I do not ask him for help, who would?"

"I will," Robin told her, "Madeline, you and I both know that you're a 
touchy subject with Ham, and that the two of you get along like oil and water, 
but I do know that he's in the camp of folks that's in favor of you getting 
job skills and going to work."

"Yes, perhaps that is a better idea. He might listen to you, since the 
two of you are lovers. My mother once told me that men will listen to their 
lovers when they will seldom listen to anyone else," Madeline said, a spark of 
hope showing in her eyes. She then favored Robin with a knowing look.

Afterwards, she and Elizabeth exchanged glances, and suddenly Robin 
felt her face flush.

"Well, Mother, I'm going up to see Kyle now," Elizabeth said, a slight 
smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I am going down to the pool," Madeline stated. Though she wasn't 
exactly smiling, she had the typical 'cat that ate the canary' expression on 
her face. 

Robin watched them both depart, still feeling flustered and 
embarrassed. Without a particular destination in mind, she found herself following 
her daughter's footsteps up to the second floor. Her own room was two doors 
down from Kyle's, and it seemed like as good a destination as any, though she 
wasn't tired. With any luck, she might catch a broadcast of the Freedom Network from 
the T.V. bolted to the wall in her room. As she cleared the stairs and 
stepped onto the second floor landing, she was surprised to find Ham. He appeared to 
have just left the vicinity of Kyle's room and was now heading her way.

"If you had any plans to visit with Baby Warbucks, I'd...uh...take a 
raincheck. He's kinda busy," Ham told her, with a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"Baby Warbucks? You mean Kyle? Oh, right...um, I know. Elizabeth went to 
go check on him," Robin replied, lowering her eyes and trying to keep her 
response as breezy as possible.

"Yeah. Something like that, I guess."

Robin's averted gaze was quick to notice the half empty six pack of 
beer dangling from one of Ham's hands, and she looked up at him quizzically.

"Now there's a sight to see. You were planning to celebrate the 
departure of the Mothership with Kyle, of all people?"

"Not quite," Ham grunted, almost goodnaturedly, "Actually, I was 
planning to change the oil in my Buick and needed to borrow his tools. I know the 
tools are here, because we rescued them from his garage. I figured I might 
bribe him with beer."

"...But he's busy," Robin finished. Then, she smiled, surprised at 
Ham's unusual amount of conversation. 

"Yeah, he's busy, so I guess I'll have to change it in the morning."

"Um...you were going to change your oil tonight? In the dark?" she 
questioned, the smile she'd had fading rapidly into a quizzical frown.

"Yeah, why not? I've got a power light and plenty of space in the 
parking lot," Ham replied matter of factly.

"Well, wouldn't it be easier just to wait until tomorrow anyways? I 
mean...what's the rush?"

"I got places to go and lizard hides to fry, that's what."

With that, he pulled one of the beers off of the plastic carrier ring 
and handed it to Robin, and then pulled another one off for himself. One 
remained, which, Robin supposed, would be left for Kyle, if he would be generous 
enough to loan Ham the needed tools in the morning.

"Road trip, huh?" Robin stated, trying to sound casual as she popped 
open her can. She'd never tell Ham that she hated the taste of beer, and 
frankly, the taste of the malt was better than the bitter news he was sliding past 
her right now. With three swallows, she drained the can half way down, 
biting back the grimace she wanted to make.

"Yeah," Ham responded, "Diana's still out there somewhere, and I have 
every intent of finding her before anyone else does."

"What will you do if you find her?"

Ham snickered and finished off his beer, crushing the can cruelly in 
his fist.

"Depends on what kind of mood I'm in," he returned with a crude smile.  

"You were just going to leave without saying goodbye? I mean...Katie 
would be crushed, y'know."

"I'm not much for goodbyes...but I don't pull disappearing acts on 12 
year olds if I can help it. I would have told her something before I left," 
Ham replied. 

Robin bit her lip and took a deep breath, knowing with a full 
conviction that it was now or never. She hadn't planned on broaching the topic that 
she'd discussed with Madeline just a short time before so soon with Ham, but 
if he was planning to leave tomorrow, she realized she had few other options. 
Suddenly, time was running out, and she was realizing a few other things, too. 
All of the things she hadn't allowed herself to think about or bring up to Ham 
about what had happened that night at Kyle's were also rising to the surface, 
demanding to be shown the light. They'd never said a word about that 
night since. In fact, it seemed to Robin, that they had spent the rest of the time 
since pretending that it hadn't happened...or at the very least, conveniently 
forgetting that it had.

It had just been one crazy kiss, right?

What had it all meant, anyways?

"Ham, um, before you go, can we talk?"

Robin's voice found it's way out of her throat before her will 
consciously projected it, and she nearly startled at the sound of it. Ham did too, 
as it seemed that he was momentarily lost in a reverie of his own.

"Yeah, sure, I guess," he replied, somewhat absently.

"Not here," she stated, motioning for him to follow her towards her 
room. To her surprise, he followed her without hesitation and waited wordlessly 
by her door while she fished her key out of her purse. 

Once inside, she turned on the bedside light and perched on the edge of 
her mattress. Ham sat across from her on the mattress of what would 
ordinarily be Elizabeth's bed, if she weren't camped out in Kyle's room for the 
night. They sat in an awkward silence for a moment until Ham cleared his throat.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?" he asked. Then he leaned 
forward and watched as the expressions on her face transformed from someone who 
was at a loss for words to someone he couldn't quite read. Her face had 
lost that awkward, trance look, and now, a slight smile played on her lips.

"I know I'm at risk of being idiotic for being relieved that the 
mothership is gone," she started, "But I'm glad it's gone just the same, aren't 
you?"

"Not really," Ham countered, "The lizards are still up to no good. The 
only difference is, now they're just a little farther away. Besides, they'll 
be back. Is this what you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes and no. I know that the war is far from over...but...it's 
nice to know that, at least for a little while, it's not right over our heads. 
Like, for tonight, at least, we can take a breather."

"We?"

"Yeah...you know, we. Collectively. You don't have to change your oil 
tonight, that's for sure. Look downstairs in the parking lot. Everyone is at 
least cautiously optimistic...haven't you done anything to celebrate? To take 
a load off? To think of anything besides the war?"

"I had a couple of beers at the H.Q. with Chris," Ham responded, with a 
hint of defensiveness in his voice.

"Yeah, and I'll bet you guys were talking about that AWOL 5th Columnist 
that's supposed to be arriving there soon, too. That's not taking a 
break."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing, yet. I had a couple of drinks too, at the Club Duex, but it 
was when Elizabeth, Madeline and I were meeting with Rachel to discuss the 
very same AWOL 5th Columnist..."

"Your point is?"

Robin bit her lip in frustration, and Ham smiled inwardly, somewhat 
enjoying his game of baiting her.

"My point is..." Robin trailed. In a fluid motion, she rose from her 
seat, and pulled Ham up from his.

"My point is this," she finished. Then, she reached up and kissed him 
softly, inviting him to return the kiss. For a moment, he hesitated, but then 
slowly began to respond to her urging until she pulled her lips from his.

"There's more to life than war, and we have some unfinished business to 
take care of," she stated.

Ham pulled Robin's face close to his and locked his gaze deep into her 
hers.

"No one has unfinished business with me. And as for what you're trying 
to do here, if you think it's going to make me stay, you're wrong," he told 
her.

"Ham, I wish you'd stay, but I know you won't," Robin replied honestly, 
"But that's ok. I'd like to think that we're friends, and as your friend, I 
wouldn't ask that of you. But, there is something that I would ask of 
you..."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"I'd just like it if you'd hold me tonight and be with me. And, I 
promise that that's all I'll ask....."

"Hold you tonight? What about Katie?"

"Just for a little while? The mothership already left...now I just want 
the war and the rest of the world to go away for just a little while so it 
can just be you and me...just for a little while..."

Ham felt Robin's fingers caress his neck in slow circles as she leaned 
against him. The fight was gone from her now, for the moment, as she 
had said all she could muster, and the next move was now his. Quietly, he weighed 
his options, but none of them made any sense. Robin's touch grew ever 
warmer and more insistent, and his own need grew stronger with each passing second. The 
warm smell of her hair was intoxicating, and the flesh on her neck beneath 
his lips was so soft. A scented perfume still lingered on her pulse points and 
behind her ears; slightly floral and maddeningly feminine. Everything he'd been 
deprived of for so long was hitting him with a longing beyond containment.

The kisses he rained on Robin's collarbone as he unbuttoned her blouse 
made her knees go weak, but he was there to catch her and lower her to the 
bed. Seconds later, she'd rebounded, pulling Ham down beside her and 
clumsily pulling at his T-shirt. Once it was removed, she ran her hands up and down the 
length of his chest, returning the kisses he'd given her moments ago. She was 
a fast learner. Ham knew he could spend eternity exploring the curves of her 
breasts, kissing and licking them, and tracing them with the tips of his 
fingers, but his need was driving him into a frenzy that Robin was making entirely 
too difficult to control. She seemed to know, as inexperienced as she might 
be, that he was nearing the limit of his control. As his touches inflamed her, 
Robin removed her own panties, rubbing her heat against Ham's thighs.

"Please, Ham," she moaned, pulling him close. Her body continued to 
writhe against him, uncontrollably. With a soft caress, he moved his hand 
between her legs and knew at once that she was ready. She sighed and swayed against 
his touch, and he let his fingers explore there for as long as he could.

"Please...now," she urged him.

Yes, now. There was no more time. With one more movement, he was free 
of the last of his clothing, and free to take Robin at will. She was stretched 
out naked before him; her eyes were closed, and her hair, which had been 
twisted in a carefree upsweep earlier had come undone and was now spread out on 
the pillow. Ham gazed at her, and she opened her eyes.

Was there a hint of fear behind the passion?

"Are you okay?" he asked her softly.

Robin smiled, but it was an uncertain one. No, not fear, but 
vulnerability.  Ham reached up and turned out the light.

"I'm okay," she whispered in the dark. The passion had somehow returned 
to her voice. It was the right move. Their lips met first, and then they 
joined completely, Robin giving herself without fear, and Ham giving himself 
without reserve. With each thrust, he felt Robin relax and surrender, her nails 
leaving imprints in the flesh of his shoulders. Her cries of ecstacy brought 
him closer to the edge of his own passion and her to the brink of hers. Their 
tangled bodies rolled together as their combined momentum shifted their 
positions. Suddenly, Ham was lying prone, beneath her; she atop him. Then, she 
leaned forward, pressing her weight down on his arms. Ham suddenly found his arms 
awkwardly pinned, and for a moment, he was unable to move...

She was astride him, in his lap, writhing hard, without a shred of 
clothing separating the two of their beings. His arms were strapped, and he 
couldn't shove her off of him if he tried. 

It wasn't as if he couldn't feel or think. Actually, it was quite the 
opposite. He could feel. He could feel the maddening arousal in his 
groin, and the relentless friction of Diana's gyrations against him. In fact, 
everything he felt was so much more intense...as if nerve endings had been stripped or 
overstimulated somehow.  He could think, but his thoughts took on a 
vaporous quality, as if the lens of his mind's eye was submerged underwater. He could 
taste the blood and feel the pain as he silently bit down on his tongue, hoping 
that this one little bit of self-mutilation would be enough to stop the 
inevitible from happening.

"Don't fool yourself, Mr. Tyler. You know you like this. Just give 
in..." she panted, lifting one of her fingers to his mouth. With a gentle 
motion, she pried his lips open...

"You can't fool me, my dear. I know what you're trying to do. I can 
smell it. It only makes me want you more," she told him. Then, she...

NO!!!

Licked at his lips with her slender, forked tongue, lapping up the 
little rivulets of blood, slipping her tongue deeper into his mouth to massage 
his tongue...

NOnononoNO!!

Her tempo increased as she did so, and she tightened herself around 
Ham, almost as if to force it...like a damn anaconda...

If only she'd just get off of him...
But he couldn't make her...
and he couldn't stop himself...

NO!!!

Somehow, Ham found his arms. With a frenzied motion, he pushed Robin 
off of him and rolled off of the bed, staggering backwards, tripping, and 
nearly falling onto the other bed. In the dim recesses of sense, he realized 
he tripped over his own pants. Jerking them up off the ground, he yanked them on 
clumsily. The coppery taste of blood coated his mouth and trickled down the back 
of his throat, and his tongue throbbed where he'd unconsiously bitten down on 
it. By some miracle, he managed not to spit on the floor as he hurriedly 
dressed.

"Ham," Robin cried, her voice ringing out like a frightened shot in the 
dark, moments before she snapped on the light, "Ham, what the hell?"

Ham's heart was still in his throat, convulsing wildly. With shaky 
hands, he pulled his shirt on over his head, relieved at the temporary shield it 
provided from the light. It only started to hit him, once he was 
dressed, that it was Robin's voice calling to him, and not the voice of his nightmare. Yet 
it was all he could do to keep his gorge down.

"Ham, are you okay?"

"Look, Robin, I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't," Ham replied, finding 
his voice somewhere in a pit of gravel. 

As he strode towards the door, he intentionally kept his gaze off of 
Robin. He didn't want to see the look on her face.

"Is it something I did? Tell me! What did I do? What's wrong?"

"Robin, it's not you, okay? Just know that."

Moments later, he stumbled out of her room and into the cool evening 
air, slamming the door shut behind him. If Robin called out to him again, 
her pleas fell on deaf ears. 

***************************************************************
Armed with the same fall college catalogue that Rachel had been looking 
at earlier and the classified ads section of the newspaper taken from the 
check in office at the hotel, Madeline had intended to sit out by the pool for a 
little bit and do some research into schooling and job search prospects. The 
watery light set into the wall of the pool was a dim reading light to human 
standards, but it served her needs quite well. Unfortunately, she was 
finding that there was much more she had to learn before she could ever hope to get 
a job.

Some of the processes were becoming familiar, merely by watching the 
progress and listening to the stories that Tonya Follows told as she avidly 
searched for employment. There were leads to hunt down, applications to fill 
out, 
interviews to go on, and follow-up calls to conduct. Despite Tonya's 
experience, it had seemingly taken her a while to find a suitable job, and Madeline 
had no illusions that she wouldn't be looking for awhile, either.  However, 
Madeline was now facing a few ugly challenges head on, and she was willing to 
bet that Tonya didn't have to deal with at least two of them.

For one, she had absolutely no job experience that she could call on, 
and almost all the jobs in the paper seemed to want some...at least all the 
jobs she could read about. Which, of course, was problem number two, and it was 
likely an even larger problem. Regardless of her supposed intelligence 
quotient, Madeline realized that what Brandon had once told her was right.

She was stupid.  Well...perhaps, not stupid, but practically illiterate 
would suffice.  

Then, of course, she was also a nobody...if one disregarded the fact 
that she was a genetic, lab grown experiment. She had no official identity on 
this planet, and if she wanted to work, she'd have to get one. Or, so she'd 
been told. That problem could be fixed the easiest of all, judging by the number 
of different names some members of the resistance were known to have, and 
if that was fixed, she could also pretend that she was not a hybrid freak...

But she would still be illiterate and inexperienced, so therefore, she 
was likely to remain unemployed. Unless, of course, Robin kept her promise 
and talked to her father. Or, to Ham; whatever he preferred to be called.

Madeline gazed up to the door on the second floor landing that she had 
seen Ham and Robin dissappear behind from her vantage point at the pool. She 
really hadn't intended for Robin to do her 'dirty work', but Robin had kindly 
offered, and she did have a point. It was plainly obvious that Ham did 
not like her very much. Madeline hoped to change that. Maybe by showing a 
willingness to do something his way, like get a job, she might begin to change his 
attitude towards her. Though she couldn't say she expected him to love her the 
way a father ought to love a daughter, she did have hopes that one day, he might 
approve of her...somehow...

But, what sort of job could she do?  Remembering back on the scores of 
aptitude tests her mother gave her, Madeline remembered that she did 
well in subjects involving geometry, strategical planning, general mathematics, 
problem solving and many of the more creative and artistic studies. Her scores 
had been quite a bit lower in science and language arts. Diana had been 
noticably disappointed in Madeline's lack of scientific interest and 
proficiency. Philip had once pointed out to Diana that not everyone was destined to be a 
crackpot Science Officer; that it seemed that Madeline's scores indicated that 
she was much better suited for a military career. Diana had sneered at the idea of 
her lab engineered hybrid daughter becoming a mere soldier. However, Philip had 
seen nothing wrong with this, and had taken pains to train Madeline with 
some of the skills she'd need for a career in that field.

Now, it seemed that neither one had been correct. Madeline would not be 
a scientist or a soldier. So, what would she be?  

There were classes to consider in the college catalogue that could 
teach Madeline to be just about anything, as long as she learned to read 
better. She had seen a commercial for a business college; one that taught students how 
to cut and style hair. She remembered how her mother always used to play with 
her hair when she was smaller, and how she always fussed with her own human 
wig. There had been times when Madeline would 'help' her fix it prior to a 
public appearance in the end, before she'd left. Yes, that was something 
Madeline could do...

A smile spread across her face as she realized that it might even 
become a useful resistance tool. How handy it would be to have someone around 
who knew how to cut, dye and style someone's hair to make them look different 
for disguise purposes!

Finally, with a direction in mind, Madeline gathered up the papers and 
exited the pool area, slapping absently at a mosquito that landed on her arm 
for a quick bite. After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, 
she popped the mosquito in her mouth and continued on her way to her own 
room on the second floor. 

She was surprised to see Ham leave Robin's room, just as she was 
heading to hers. Madeline had honestly figured he'd be spending the night with 
Robin. But, then again, the sleeping arrangements were just as strange within the 
ranks of the resistance as they were on the mothership. Sometimes, Elizabeth 
roomed with Kyle. Sometimes, she shared with Robin. But, according to 
Elizabeth, Kyle was still very slow to respond to Elizabeth's advances, and she 
couldn't figure out why. Madeline was beginning to wonder if he was homosexual. 
No...that couldn't be it. Kyle didn't act like Oswald on the Mothership, who most 
assuredly was homosexual, according to both Mother and Philip. (That 
was, perhaps, the one thing they'd ever agreed on.) But, then again, maybe there wasn't 
any one tried and true way for homosexuals to act. According to Brandon's 
remarks, Tonya Follows was also a homosexual, and he even suspected that Polly 
Maxwell was, too. If Oswald was an obvious homosexual, then neither Tonya, 
Polly nor Kyle acted like him...

Confusing. All of it was so confusing.

Ham was coming towards her, and he looked like he was in a hurry. 
Clutching her college catalouge and mess of classified ads tightly to her chest 
and screwing up her courage, she mustered a bright smile and stepped out in 
front of him to halt his progress.

"Uh, hi..." she stammered nervously.

Ham said nothing to her in return. It was hard to read his expression 
in the semi-darkness, but the dark had nothing to do with her difficulties.

"Did you...um...get a chance to talk to Robin...?? About something...??" 
she asked softly, testing the waters.

Almost immediately, Madeline wished she'd never asked. Ham's expression 
twisted into something completely unrecognizable, but something she 
hoped she'd never see again. Then, he lifted his arm and roughly shoved her aside, 
moving her out of his path.

"Get lost," he told her, over his shoulder. Then, he continued on his 
way, even faster than he'd been going before. Moments later, he'd descended 
the stairs and was gone from sight.

Madeline stared after him for a few minutes, trying not to feel the 
pain of yet another rejection. After all, what had she really expected? The 
bundle of magazines and papers in her arms suddenly felt like an oppressive 
weight now. It was all just wishful thinking, anyways.  Her steps felt leaden when 
she finally willed herself to move. As she walked past Robin's room, the 
door opened once again and Robin came outside. 

"Oh," she said, in a dispirited tone of voice, "I saw a shadow pass by 
my window. I thought maybe you were Ham..."

Madeline cringed when she got a look at Robin. Obviously, Ham had upset 
more than just one person tonight. Robin's eyes were almost as red as 
Madeline's own natural eyes, from spent tears. Her hair was mussed and her clothes 
were rumpled as if she'd perhaps thrown herself on her bed and had a good 
tantrum...

Or maybe she and Ham had been fighting. Really fighting. A flash of her 
mother throttling Security Chief Dale flashed through her mind, and she 
shook it free.

"No. I did see him, though. He went downstairs," Madeline replied 
quietly.

"Yeah, I think he's leaving," Robin answered with a sniffle.

"Leaving? To go where?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Madeline, he's got problems, okay? You'd 
just do better to forget about him..."

A new round of tears sprung from Robin's eyes, and she batted them away 
and sighed.

"I need to get myself together and go get Katie," she muttered.

The phone in Robin's room rang, and both of them jumped in surprise. 
Robin quickly turned and dashed back inside, snatching the receiver off the 
hook. Madeline followed her inside. The first thing she noticed was the 
complete disarray of Robin's bed. The second relization brought a flush to her 
cheeks. Call it a blessing or a curse, Madeline had the same scenting abilities of any 
Sirian, and the delicate olfactory glands in the forks of her tongue 
could easily detect something else.

Fighting wasn't all that had happened in this room tonight.

Instinctively, she backed away from the unmade bed, while Robin argued 
with the unseen speaker on the phone.

"Yes, I know, Polly. Katie was playing with Medina...I knew where she 
was! Do you honestly think that I'd leave her out all night to wander around? 
Yeah, well it was sure nice of you to let us know what time you planned on 
coming back from the headquarters..."

Pause...

"I was just coming out to get her! God, Polly, take a damn chill pill! 
I've been taking care of Katie for how long? I don't need you to tell me how 
to do it!"

Pause...

"Of course she can stay at Medina's tonight. That's great, Polly. I'm 
glad you handled it, okay? Geez, it's only 11 o'clock. It's not like it's 
the middle of the night. I figured she had license to stay up late tonight..."

Pause...

"Yeah, well kiss my ass too!"

With that, Robin slammed the phone down.  Then, she flopped down on 
Elizabeth's bed and sighed, looking suddenly lost.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about Katie, now," she said, more 
to herself than to Madeline.

"Your sister is angry about this?" Madeline asked.

"I don't know what's up Polly's butt. She's just mad because Katie 
wasn't already in bed when she got back from the headquarters, I guess. Beats 
me, and I really don't care. Polly is always pissed at me about something."

Madeline frowned slightly and sat down beside Robin on the bed. Sibling 
disputes were another thing she didn't have much understanding of since 
she had no brothers or sisters.

"So, you said you ran into Ham?" Robin asked, deftly changing the 
subject.

"Yes.  He seemed upset about something, as ususal," she responded, 
scratching absently at the mosquito bite that she'd gotten before she'd managed to 
inflict just punishment to the perpetrator that had bit her first, "Did 
you get a chance to ask him?"

"Ask him? Ask him what?"

Madeline blinked in surprise.

"Have you forgotten what we had discussed earlier? I was going to ask 
him about getting the papers I would need so I could get a job. Then, you 
said that I should not do it...that you would do it instead, because he would 
listen to you."

"Oh, yeah, that.  Madeline, I'm really sorry, but no. He wasn't really 
in much of a talking mood. I was going to, but..."

Robin bit her lip and shook her head as if she was trying to rid 
herself of an unpleasant memory. Her eyes were taking on the moist appearance of 
someone that was about to start crying again.

"What happened?" Madeline asked. She knew part of the answer, of 
course, and she was also one of the few people that understood how passion could 
turn into fighting, even into murder. Obviously things were different here. There 
was no corpse. 

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Robin responded vaguely, "Things 
were fine until..."

"Until when?"

Once again, Robin shook her head. She would never rest until she had 
some insight into what had happened, and talking about it with someone 
sometimes could help...but who to talk to? Elizabeth would never do. It just didn't 
seem right to discuss her sex life, or lack of it with her own daughter. 
Polly was equally out of the question. Other people might share personal things 
of this nature with their siblings, but Robin and Polly had never been that 
close. In fact, the more Robin thought of confiding in anyone within the 
resistance, and telling them about what had just transpired between she and Ham, the 
more nervous she got. She could just hear what Mike Donovan would have to say about 
it, and she wondered if Mike would hear about it if she confided in 
Julie...

Madeline and Elizabeth were the only ones that really knew anything, 
and Madeline was right there asking...

And she was Ham's daughter, supposedly.

"Did he get strange on you after you had relations?" Madeline asked 
softly. She looked over at the rumpled bed, and then returned her gaze to 
Robin, "I had something like that happen to me, once, too. I had relations with... a 
man... several times. I even started to feel very close to him....Then, 
he..."

She trailed off in mid-sentence and looked down.

"Now he is with another female, I think," she finished. Her gaze fixed 
on Robin.

"Did Ham do something like that to you? Did he tell you afterwards that 
there is someone else...or that he does not wish to be with you?"

"He didn't even bother to wait until after the relations to get weird 
on me, okay. It happened right in the middle of it," Robin explained morosely.

Madeline's eyebrow shot up and she pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Did he get sick?" she asked.

"Maybe.  Look, I know he used to be a Vietnam soldier. It was like he 
had some kind of weird flashback, but I don't know what started it. I think 
I might have hurt him, though, because I remember...kissing him once, and...I 
could swear I tasted blood on his lip. Then, when the lights were on and he 
was getting dressed, I saw a little bit in the corner of his mouth. God, 
I'll just die if I hurt him!" Robin wailed.

"Maybe he had a conversion flashback," Madeline stated.

The tears that had been threatening to spill broke loose and coursed 
down Robin's cheeks.

"I just don't know, but it was the scariest thing!" she cried. "I hope 
he's okay!"

Madeline didn't answer to that, because there was no way for her to 
judge his mental state. She now was starting to get an awareness into her 
father's hatred of her. Though she'd heard him tell Mother, when he'd been 
imprisoned aboard the Mothership, that he had no memory of the events that had 
transpired that had made Madeline possible, she now knew it was a lie. Perhaps not an 
outright lie, but part of him remembered. She had no idea how to 
explain this to Robin, or if she even should try. After all, it wasn't as if she'd 
witnessed these events. She hadn't even hatched yet. But, Madeline knew her mother, and 
she knew of her methods. Finally, she sighed resignedly, knowing that Robin 
deserved to know something.

"Robin, I do not know much about your personal circumstances, but from 
what I have heard you say, and from what I have heard others close to you 
attest, when Elizabeth was conceived, it was because you were raped by her 
father, right?"

"Damn right. Brian lied to me from the very start. When I was held 
captive on board the mothership, he came into my cell and he started to kiss me. 
After a while, I told him to stop, but he wouldn't. Then, he forced himself on 
me. Later, I found out that your mother...um...I mean...Diana...was behind 
the whole thing."

Madeline nodded sympathetically. If she was offended by Robin's mention 
of Diana's involvement in the affair, she didn't show it.

"Did that experience ever haunt you later? In flashbacks, or when you 
tried to  have relations with anyone else?"

"I had lots of bad dreams," Robin reflected, "especially right at 
first. Even now, I sometimes do. But, I can't really say I have flashbacks...not 
like the ones I've heard about some Vietnam Veterans have. It's like they 
actually feel like they've gone back in time and are re-experiencing the whole 
ordeal as if it's happening to them all over again, or so I've heard."

"What about sex? Is it a good experience for you now?" Madeline 
pressed.

Robin flushed and lowered her gaze. Her hands began to twist together 
nervously in her lap.

"I'm not horribly experienced there," she admitted, "and I guess I can 
sort of blame Brian for that. I don't know. There aren't many guys I trust 
well enough to get that close to.  With the exceptions of Brian and the 
other creep your mom sent to try to knock me up, there's only been two guys...one 
in Chicago that I had an on-again, off-again thing with, and...Ham. I guess things 
would have been good between Ham and I if he hadn't freaked out in the end. 
Sometimes, when Tony and I were together, things were good, but 
sometimes, they weren't so great...Umm...Tony was the guy in Chicago.  His wife was taken by 
the Visitors, and the 5th Column there told him that she was in cold 
storage...so his mission within the Resistance was to eventually free her...Well, 
anyways, after so many years, Tony got kind of lonely, y'know? We sort of hooked 
up, but neither one of us was really looking for a commitment...just some 
company sometimes.  He has a son, too, and his son is like...gosh...a couple of 
years younger than Sean Donovan, I think. Well, his son, Gino, didn't like me 
much.  Anyways...whenever I drifted into Chicago, Tony and I would hook up, 
and when I'd leave, there was never any questions asked, y'know? I don't really know 
where I'm going with all of this, other than just to say that I never told 
Tony about Brian."

"You didn't?"

"No. I wasn't even Robin Maxwell there. I lived with my Aunt Rebecca 
some of the time, and though her maiden name was once Maxwell, it's been Van 
Roy for as long as anyone can remember. Longer than the Visitors have been 
here, at any rate. Ham fabricated an I.D. for me using her married last name and a 
fake first name. That way, I could still be her neice, but I wouldn't have 
to be me. To the folks in Chicago, I'm Kristin Van Roy, and I'm not the mother of 
the Starchild.  Get it? So, Tony never knew about Brian, which was good, in 
some ways, but not so good in others. Tony never hurt me, of course, but 
there were times that I felt he didn't understand me, I guess. It's sort of hard 
to explain."

"I understand.  So, you have never had a flashback, but you do not find 
it easy to trust men because you have been lied to and raped?" Madeline 
stated.

"Yeah, right."  Then, Robin leveled a suspicious gaze at Madeline.

"How is it that you would know about flashbacks, anyways?" she asked, 
"Did Ham tell you something?"

"No. He never tells me anything.  I just remember some things...from 
long before. I suppose they might be like flashbacks...only they are not my 
own," she explained lamely.

Robin still looked suspicious, but she also looked confused.

"My mother tried to put me in the conversion tank when I was small," 
Madeline told her, "But it did nothing to condition me. Instead, I was able to 
see and hear things that had happened there to others before I came. It was as 
if the walls had recorded these things...Horrible things...These images 
would follow me into my dreams at night. Sometimes, they still do. I could 
imagine a flashback to be something like that, only worse, because it would not 
just be witnessing."

Then, she looked at Robin, forcing her to return the gaze.

"My father was in there, too. He was there, and I heard his cries. I 
saw his pain.  Now, I suppose we're  just learning that this was not all he 
suffered. He will never love me, Robin. I must learn to accept this.  But, 
maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Robin whispered.

"Have you moved past your experience?"

"What Brian did to me? Sometimes, I think so.  I know that it's 
something I'll have to deal with forever...it will be something that will always 
effect me...but I'm okay now, if that's what you mean.."

"Do you think you could ever love again?"

"I will never let Brian have that part of me. Yes, I believe I can," 
Robin answered.

"Maybe, Ham will too.  I think that is why he found you. He needs you. 
Maybe you are the one that will be able to help him find his way past his 
pain," Madeline said.

Robin snorted dispassionately.

"You sound like you've been having a Pretenama Pow-Wow with Elizabeth.  
I'd really like to believe you, Madeline, but after what happened tonight, 
we'll both be lucky if we ever see him again."

Madeline flopped the catalog and the want-ads on the bed and let out 
a hiss of air. When Robin got into moods like this, they were infectious, but 
then again, her hope had been somewhat deflated from the outset.

"Where do you suppose he went?' she questioned.

Robin rolled her eyes, which were now dried, but still reddened.

"God only knows. He said he had places to go and lizard hides to fry. 
Listen, Madeline, if you really want to know where he went, then maybe you 
could start by telling us where you think your mother may have high-tailed it 
to. There's a lot of people around here that think you're holding out on 
us, y'know..."

Robin didn't believe for one moment that the Starchild knew where Diana 
had hidden herself, but she knew Ham thought she did. She was vaguely 
surprised that he'd left without trying to badger the information out of her 
first.

This time, it was Madeline's turn to snort, but the noise that issued 
from her throat sounded quite a bit like something Ham would make.

"I have had no contact with my mother since that night when Patricia 
came....and anyone here knows that to be true. As for any special 
channeling abilities I might have? Well, let us just say that I am something of a 
disappointment in my mother's eyes. If you are wondering about that, you would have a 
better chance of finding her with Elizabeth's abilities than with mine. All I 
can tell you is that she is alive. That is all."

Robin didn't press the point. She was one of the few people that 
honestly understood the bond between hybrids and their parents. Since 
Elizabeth's birth, Robin herself was blessed with a few special instincts where 
Elizabeth was concerned. However, none of those instincts would ever tell her where 
her daughter was, exactly, if they ever became separated. She knew this to 
be a fact through experience. Elizabeth had admitted as much in reverse. So, why 
would it be inconceivable that it would be any different for Madeline and Diana?

"If Ham gone chasing my Mother, Robin, then how am I ever going to 
become someone else? How will I ever get a job?" Madeline questioned, her 
attention riveted back to the pile of papers she'd tossed on the bed.

"We'll find a way," Robin reassured her, "There's got to be more than 
one person who can do this. In fact, I know there is. If Chris didn't go 
with him, we can ask him. He knows a lot of the stuff Ham knows, and he only has 
about 6 billion different I.D.'s for himself..."

"I wonder what other name I should go by. There are not many human 
names I know that do not already belong to someone else."

Robin shrugged.

"Well, that depends. At first, Ham suggested I use my middle name 
before I left for Chicago, but my middle name is Rebecca; the same as my aunt's. 
I was named for her. That wouldn't work, so the next thing I knew, he just 
showed up with a bogus I.D. and social security card with the name Kristin Van 
Roy on it. My most recent alias when I worked at the Legation wasn't one I chose 
either. But, I've had other aliases that I have chosen. I've even used my 
middle name before...just not in Chicago. If you have a middle name that's remotely 
human sounding, especially if it's fairly common, you might use that with a 
made up last name," Robin explained.

"I have both a Sirian middle name and a human middle name. Actually, it 
is one name that loosely translates. My mother made my middle name 'Jade' 
in human, which, from what I understand, is a green stone that symbolizes luck 
and power in Oriental culture. Well, there is no such jade stone on the 
Homeworld, but there was a stone called a 'Jhath'le'. In ancient times, it was the 
special stone that medicine men used to grind the herbs and roots for medicinal 
teas and potions to cure wounded soldiers and tribesmen. I have no idea if 
it was green, but, at any rate, she used the translation for my Sirian middle 
name. Is 'Jade' a common enough name to use for an alias?"

"I've heard of the name, but I can't really say it's all that common," 
Robin responded, "But then again, this is Hollywood. I went to school with 
girls named Brooklyn, Starla, and Rayne. And, of course, there's my sister, 
who got tagged with Polly Anna. No wonder she has such a bad attitude. We'll 
just see what Chris says."

Madeline obviously didn't get the reference to the literary classic for 
which Polly was named, so she made no remark. However, she did notice that 
the slight shift in topics caused a mild change in Robin's mood.

"Well, I suppose I should go to my own room now, before Elizabeth 
decides to come back," Madeline said, stretching before she gathered up her papers 
and magazines once again.

"I don't think she's planning on sleeping here tonight, but it is 
getting late," Robin agreed. When she got up, she made a half hearted attempt 
to start smooting out her own bedcovers, readying them to be slept in.

When Madeline left, Robin found herself alone again, to contemplate 
what had happened that night. The mothership was gone, and so was Ham...

The memory of his cries in the dark, and the way he'd pushed her off of 
him crept back into her mind as she tried to settle down into the bed to 
sleep. Every five minutes or so, her head would bob up off the pillow, 
watching to see if he'd pass by her window.

Finally, Robin gave up. Gathering up the lightweight bedspread, she 
curled up on the worn wingback chair in the room that was situated on the 
opposite side of the room. From here, she'd have a direct view of the window.  Deep 
in her heart, though, she knew Ham wasn't coming back. Her instinct was 
correct, too. Within ten minutes, she fell asleep, and slept uninterruped for the 
rest of the night.

Chapter 37  

AWOL

This is my home.
I'm coming home.

Earth below us,
drifting,  falling
floating weightless,
coming, coming home...

~~Peter Schilling  Major Tom

Melissa was the only occupant awake when the blue and white mottled 
planet came into sight through the viewscreen. Silently, she watched as it 
loomed closer and closer. At first, it had just looked like an ordinary 
hatchling's toy, suspended in the all encompassing darkness of space. Then, as the 
distance between the shuttle and the planet lessened, Melissa began to feel as 
if she and the vessel she was seated inside were toy-sized compared to the 
vastness of the mass filling up the viewscreen. This feeling was not foreign to her, as 
she had gone on a few extra-planetary missions from the Homeworld prior to 
her departure to Rendezvous Station. This time, though, the planet she was 
approaching was not Sirius IV.

The blue, swirling textures on the giant sphere of the planet had to be 
water, she told herself. She knew this only because she'd been told of 
this; that the planet Earth's surface was comprised of 70% water. It was a mind- 
boggling ratio. Without warning, the darkness of space gave away to the light 
fringes of wispy atmosphere that grew denser with each passing second. The 
internal temperature began to heat up in rapid incriments, in response to the 
external friction of the atmosphere against the shuttle. Melissa could feel the 
pull of gravity working to slow the craft's momentum, now. The atmospheric 
thrusters fired up with a deep hum, fed by the automatic navigational sequence 
that had been preprogrammed. The shuttle already knew where to go, unless Melissa saw 
the Mothership still hovering over Los Angeles when they arrived. Then, 
she'd throw the override switch to program the shuttle to it's alternate set of 
navigational instructions.

Just as the cabin light blinked a warning for all passengers to secure 
themselves, Theo entered the cockpit and took the co-pilot's seat.  His 
human guise was set in a grim expression as he surveyed the scenery outside the 
opaqued viewport. Melissa had been right, it seemed. They were gliding over a 
body of water that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Melissa could 
hardly take her eyes away from the sight, but Theo appeared to be unimpressed. Of 
course, Melissa rationalized, he's been here before and seen these things.

Now that they were safely established in Earth's atmosphere, Melissa 
flipped a switch that would activate a beacon carried by the 5th columnists in 
charge of meeting her at her landing site. They were now hopefully aware of 
her presence within Earth's airspace.  Before long, Melissa was able to 
detect a land mass. It seemed that the shuttle was angling directly towards it. Theo 
punched in a sequence control pad, and a holo map appeared on the panel before 
them. 

"The Mothership is gone," he confirmed. His tone was completely flat 
and betrayed no emotion suggesting how he might feel about this. Melissa 
silently wished David and the other 5th Columnists en route to Rendezvous 
Station luck. Supposedly, the 5th Column on board the Mothership had been dealt a 
huge blow, when hearing that they'd be subject to a mass interrogation prior to 
leaving for Rendezvous Station, many of their ranks had opted to evacuate the ship 
rather than have their loyalties discovered. Some jumped to their deaths when 
the parachutes ran out. This was what had prompted David to reveal his 
loyalty to the 5th Columnists on the Mothership while he was in charge of the 
interrogations; to prevent any more needless deaths. 

However, those that remained were still not safe. Patricia was still in 
their midst, and she would recover soon enough. Melissa kept these thoughts 
from Theo. Though his recovery was progressing, his 'loyalties' had not been 
put to the test. And, regardless of how much treatment he received, he would 
still not be considered a 5th columnist unless he took the oath himself, based on 
his own beliefs. Therefore, Melissa did not feel inclined to reveal any of 
her 5th Column dealings to him.

As they left the vast ocean behind and flew over land, Melissa could 
make out signs of civilization. Buildings rose up against the horizon, and the 
dawning sun glinted on the many windows fronting the buildings. Roads wound 
through all of this like ribbons. This certainly was not what one would expect 
to see of a people that was supposedly no more intelligent than verlog. 

"This is Los Angeles," Theo told her disspassionately.

"All of it?" Melissa questioned.

"Yes, I believe so. Los Angeles is larger than Merkat."

Melissa said nothing s the shuttle continued it's preprogrammed 
flight. No city on the Homeworld was larger than Merkat. No wonder Diana had 
fought so bitterly to remain in command of the Mothership situated in control of 
this vast city. At last, though, the heart of the city began to spread out into 
suburbs, and then into what looked to be...

Agricultural fields? Yes, indeed, that's what they appeared to be, 
although Melissa could not be certain, because the closest she'd ever been to an 
agricultural field in her life were the hydroponic growth houses on 
Rendezvous Station. 

At this point, the shuttle began a rapid descent. Within moments, they 
had set down right in the middle of one of these such fields. The landing 
was only a little bumpy. 

Theo made a grab for the emergency air masks suspended from hooks in 
the cabin. He passed one out to each of them.

"Put it on. You do not know what concentrations of Red Dust there are 
out there," he instructed them.

Melissa obeyed, while Theo strapped his own on.

Prior to disembarking, Melissa had another of business to contend with. 
Methodically, she grabbed her repair kit, and extracted her air 
injector. Loading up the chamber with a dose of the medication that was called 
"Anti-Toxin", she first dosed Theo. Then, she dosed herself. 

"We have company," Theo informed her.

Melissa glanced out the viewport and saw a quaint looking, four 
wheeled, open aired vehicle approach. In it were a man and a woman. The man was 
familiar. She'd met him on Rendezvous Station before, and recognized him as 
'Nigel'. She didn't know who the woman was, but nonetheless, she was happy to see a 
familiar face. Melissa took a deep breath and hit the button that would 
lower the entrance ramp. Bright light filled the cabin. It was more than she 
could bear, at first. Theo pressed a pair of shades into her groping hand. 
Gratefully, she slipped them on, and then stepped on to the ramp, prepared to take her 
first look around at a new world.

"Greetings. The light is bright." the one named Nigel stated to her 
testily. Melissa knew she was to respond a certain way, and she scanned her 
memory for the appropriate words.

"Yes, especially for a night owl," she replied, wondering what a 'night 
owl' was.

Nigel smiled, and Melissa knew she'd remembered the code correctly.

"I can tell it is you by your voice. Welcome to Earth, Melissa," he 
told her warmly. Then, he gestured to his companion in the vehicle.

"This is Jaime. She is also amongst our ranks."

By then, Theo had emerged from the shuttle and was descending the ramp.  
Nigel looked up at him and then to Melissa questioningly.

"I was not made aware that you were bringing a passenger," he stated, 
not trying to hide the tinges of suspicion in his tone.

"You are aware that in addition to being a scientist, I am also 
liscenced to practice medicine, and I that I have a minor in psycology, are you 
not?"

"No," Nigel responded.

"Well, this is true. This man is Theo, and he is my patient. He has 
been under my care for some time now, and I could not abandon him. I am 
rather surprised that our mutual contact did not tell you that Theo would be 
with me, since he knew of him He arranged for all of his passes and accommodations 
just as he arranged for mine."

With this, Melissa summonded for Theo to hand her his various ID's and 
pass cards for Nigel to scrutinize. In addidtion, she gave him her own.  She 
was well aware that he had once served within the ranks of the security 
fleet on board the mothership. If the passes David had authorized did not pass 
Nigel's inspection, they weren't likely to pass anyone else's either. After a 
few minutes, Nigel handed them back with a curt nod.

"Very well," he said, "I am sure it was just an oversight. Do you 
suppose there may have been any reason why this oversight might have been 
intentional?"

"In what way? Melissa questioned.

"Is Theo being hunted by anyone, perhaps?" Nigel pressed.

"No." Theo replied in his own defense, "I am sure it was just an 
oversight, just as you said earlier."

"Well, then, I suppose you two should get what you need from the 
shuttle, and hurry. Another team will be here shortly to hide it," Nigel instructed.

"And, you can take those masks off," the woman named Jaime said, "As 
you can see, we're breathing just fine without one. The red dust isn't active 
in these parts."

Hesitantly, Melissa lifted the mask up off of her face and took in a 
shallow breath of Earth air. Satisfied that her airways were not going to close 
up on her, she began to breathe more easily.

"If it is all the same to you, I will leave mine on," Theo said.

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

News spread quickly that Nigel and Jaime had been summoned to pick up 
the 5th Column scientist. It was a Saturday morning, and Julie was off. She got 
an early call from Howie, letting her know that he'd gotten the word from 
Philip that Nigel and Jaime had gone to pick up the arriving scientist.  Howie 
informed her that he had a batch of Procorb ready for her to pick up and take to 
the headquarters.

"Use it only if you deem necessary," Howie warned her when she arrived 
at Visitor Fields, "The Mothership was our main supplier of the drug. I do 
not know how readily available our next quantities will be until we find another 
supplier."

"I promise I'll return it if we don't use it," Julie swore to him. She 
knew that Procorb had sedative qualities for both humans and Sirians alike, 
but in Sirian medicine, it served many other purposes. Mixed with some drugs, 
it could be used as a truth serum. This effect could be produced in humans, so 
Diana learned. It was also the primary base to many Sirian pain killers. 

"In order to 'mix' a batch of truth serum, you break open one of the 
Procorb vials and pour it into the top of the injector. The other drug is 
already loaded in it. It is a powder form. Before administering the injector to 
the patient, be sure to mix the two drugs by shaking the injector 
vigorously, several times. Then, it should be ready," Howie instructed her.

"Just one vial?" Julie repeated.

"Yes. One vial is one dose. I measured the powder for you, because I 
figured you would never understand our measurement quantities or the 
measurement symbols on the injectors. You have three injectors in there, which will 
do you for three sessions. I gave you six vials of Procorb, in case you break one, 
or spill. Each dose will last for approximately 2 hours, depending on the 
weight of the subject. Any questions?"

"Is there any chance Procorb produces a reverse effect in a patient? 
You know...makes them aggressive or violent?" she asked. An image of Mike's 
son Sean, and the name of the drug 'Procorb' suddenly flashed through her mind.

Howie's expression went blank for a moment as he considered her 
question.

"Ah, no," he replied, "Procorb tends to make what you would call 
zombies out of us, and you...but...Oh, I think I know what you mean. The men and 
women at the camp, right?"

Julie nodded soberly.

"That was not the Procorb causing that, actually. The Procorb was 
responsible for making those individuals complain, yes. But it was another drug 
that was causing the aggression. That drug is much more like what you humans 
would consider a steroid. In fact, it is a hormone derivative. It is called 
Gethanegan, and it is the hormone responsible for causing our molts. However, in 
large doses, it can also cause extreme aggression and tendencies towards 
violence."

"Just like our steriods can," Julie concluded.

"Rest assured that the powdered medicine in the injectors is not 
Gethanegan," Howie told her with a smile.

When Julie arrived at the headquarters with her carefully wrapped 
package, it was hard to tell who was not already there, based on the plethera of 
cars parked outside. She could take a good guess that Chris and Maggie would 
be there, as it seemed they spent a lot of time at the headquarters working on 
their Cessna. Chris' pick-up truck was parked near the main building; a 
sticker on the back bumper loudly proclaiming that there was only two kinds of music: 
Country and Western. Robin's car was parked, as was Mike's blazer. She 
was mildly surprised when she noticed that neither Ham's van, nor his Buick were 
parked out front, but she reasoned to herself that he might have parked his 
vehicle someplace a little more concealed. The rest of the cars weren't readily 
recognizable.

"Julie's here," she heard someone from inside call as she approached 
the door. It sounded like Polly Maxwell. The door swung open, and Chris 
Faber greeted her with a shaggy smile.

"C'mon in, darlin'," he drawled, "The party is just gettin' started."

Though the front office of the main building was good sized, it was 
filled nearly to capacity with bulky furniture, resistance members and two 
Visitor travellers. There was standing room, only. Both of the uniformed 
Visitors occupied folding chairs, and were seated in the center of the room, away from 
any convenient exits. They looked somewhat overwhelmed. Circling them were 
tiers of the resistance, starting with Nigel, Jaime and Philip. It seemed that 
these three were forming an almost protective stance around the two seated 
figures. Everyone else occupied the outer circle. 

Chris was at Julie's right arm, leading her in. As she'd known from the 
cars outside, both Robin and Mike were there, and so was Polly Maxwell. 
Maggie was perched on the side of the desk, looking decidedly worn and pale. 
Rachel occupied the office chair behind the oversized desk, as if she were 
attending to an ordinary workday's business. Brandon Watts was popping sunflower seeds 
and glowering at Sean, who was skulking nearby. Madeline stood next to 
Sean, holding Philip's daughter Emily. Instinctively, Julie took stock of the 
situation. She glanced at Mike, who acknowledged her with a nod and beckoned her 
over to him. Chris was still at her elbow to help pilot her through the tangle 
of people.

"Move it, Watts," Chris commanded Brandon.

"Ain't my fault you can't fit through here, but it shouldn't be a 
problem for Julie," Brandon replied nonchalantly.

"Watch it, slim. By the way, where's Tonya. Shouldn't she be here?"

"Naw. She's working at Pandora's today. Figure she might snag these two 
some fresh mousies if they're good lil' gators."

"Christ almighty. That's right. We gotta feed these scalies."

"Don't worry about it," Julie told them both, "I'm sure Philip, Nigel 
and Jaime could give us some pointers."

"What's that you got in the wraps, there, doc?' Brandon asked her with 
his eyebrows raised.

"It's Procorb. Truth Serum. We'll use it if we have to, and only if we 
have to," Julie told him.

"I'm thinking we're gonna have to. At least on Mystery Boy over there. 
Didn't know our Lizard Doc was bringing a guest," Chris stated.

At last, Julie sided up next to Mike, who had the closest front row 
vantage point by the fifth columnists shielding the Visitor guests.

"How long have they been here?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, about 45 minutes. We were waiting on you to come with the Truth 
Serum, and for Ham, but according to Chris and Robin, Ham won't be coming," 
Mike replied.

"He won't? Why not?" Julie questioned. She immediately thought this was 
odd. She would think that Ham would want to be in on this.

"Well, Chris told me that Ham was planning on trolling for Diana, and 
Robin says he just flat out took off sometime late last night."

Julie turned to Chris.

"This is news," she told him, "Ham just decided to leave, and left 
without taking anyone? Not even you?"

"I might have gone, but Maggie's been having some problems. Actually, I 
was gonna talk to you about it, cuz she won't. She killed a rabbit the 
other day...you know...one of those home pregnancy test thingies. But, if you 
was to ask Maggie, she'll tell you the test is fulla shit, and the only reason she 
took it is because Rachel bought it and I made her take it..."

"Are you trying to tell me that Maggie is pregnant?" Julie asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, that's exactly what I'm saying. That's why I didn't go, 
see. But, like I'm also tryin' to tell you, Maggie swears to the Man 
Upstairs that she ain't pregnant...but the test says she is, and she hasn't had the curse 
in two months, and she's been sicker than a dog and we all know the gators 
have been foolin' with the birth control, and I say I know better."

Julie bit her lip.

"I thought you and Maggie were using the batch of pills that you and 
Ham got us out of Canada last year..."

"Well, doc, if that's what you and Gooder is still usin', I suggest 
you..."

"Say no more," Julie responded dryly.

"Well, I think it is for the best that Ham is not here. He would make 
things rather unpleasant for our new guests," Philip interjected. He glanced 
at the wrapped package in Julie's arms. "I do not think that will be 
necessary."

"Says who?" Chris stated, "Maybe not on the scientist. But we don't 
know shit from Shinola about her snake-eyed boyfriend over there, and he wasn't 
part of the deal. I say we shoot him up."

"Yeah, I agree with Chris. There's something about that guy that I'm 
not too sure about."  That statement came from Robin, who'd drifted over to the 
group. There was several rounds of agreement from others who'd heard her.

"Why don't we just try some talk first," Julie suggested quietly, in a 
tone she knew the new arrivals weren't likely to be able to hear, "Howie 
told me that the supply of this stuff may not come easily with the mothership 
being gone, and we really shouldn't use it if we don't need to. I'll set it on the 
desk, and if we need it, it will be there."

"Yes, thank you, Julie. I knew we could count on you to be rational," 
Philip said.

The package was put on the desk, and soon everyone took various 
offensive positions. Brandon covered the front exit, while Maggie took position 
by the door to the hangar bay. This, of course, was to prevent any of the new 
arrivals from abruptly trying to make a run for it.  Nigel and Jaime closed 
their protective circle in closer around the twosome.

"No one is going to hurt anyone here," Julie began,"But I'm hoping that 
you'll understand our postion here. Firstly, I'm going to assume that 
both of you understand and speak English?"

"Yes, we do," the seated female answered.  Her psuedoskin reflected 
that she was a woman in her early to mid twenties; an awfully young scientist, 
in Julie's opinion, but then again, Julie had been a scientist and had 
headed the resistance at an early age herself. The woman's English was heavily 
accented in a peculiar way, although the accent didn't reflect any specific foreign 
or domestic dialect. It was as if her English had only just been 'taught', 
it hadn't been 'trained' to belong to one geographical area, like Jaime's, or 
even Philip or Lydia's had. Julie realized that what she was likely hearing was 
English with a 'Sirian' accent!

"What should we call you?" she asked the woman.

"When I am on your planet, my name is to be Melissa. That was also my 
assigned name on Rendezvous Station," she answered easily.

"What about your scaly buddy over here?" Chris asked, assuming Ham's 
role quite naturally, despite his usually easy going manner.

"He is to be called 'Theo'," Melissa responded.

No one asked why Theo wasn't speaking for himself, for it was somewhat 
easy to see why. The man seated next to Melissa wore a breathing apparatus 
strapped to his face that covered his mouth and nose completely.

"What's with the SCUBA gear?" Robin piped. "Has anyone told 'Theo' that 
the red dust is dead in L.A. and it can't hurt him?"

Theo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes boring holes into 
Robin. He then shifted his gaze to Melissa, looking at her questioningly.

"Theo is a patient of mine," Melissa answered, "He was exposed to a 
large quantity of the Red Dust toxin at one point in his life. It nearly 
killed him. Any exposure at all to it could put him into a state known as Lactic 
Acidosis. Simply put, he could go into a lactic coma, and possibly die. Though 
you say the red dust is dead here, Theo is understandably nervous about the 
risk of exposure."

"Well, if his risk level is so damn high, then why is he even here?' 
Chris challenged.

"Like I told you, he is a patient of mine. He is receiving treatments 
for several conditions. To leave him on Rendezvous Station would be 
unthinkable. There would be no one left to continue his treatment. Without it, the 
quality of his life would surely suffer, and he might die."

"What's he being treated for?" Julie tested.

"That is doctor patient confidentiality, and I cannot tell you without 
Theo's express permission," Melissa replied,

Julie offered her a kind smile in return.

"We have similar laws here on Earth," she stated.

"Is Theo 5th Column?" 

That question came from Maggie, who was still guarding the door.

"Theo is merely coming into his own. He will decide his destiny when he 
is well," Melissa answered.

"In other words, you don't think he's well enough to make that decision 
for himself right now?" Julie asked.

"In my professional opinion, no."

"Great. She brought a lizard looney with her," Brandon mumbled, "Isn't 
that just what we all need."

"Nigel, Jaime," Mike addressed the two fifth columnists, "When you told 
us about Melissa, did you know about Theo, too?"

"No, we did not," Nigel answered.

"There must have been some sort of mix-up," Jaime added.

"Right now, we only have provisions for one," Mike told Melissa, "But 
we can fix this problem rather quickly. What we need to know is this: What is 
your purpose here, if you have one? Are you here just for asylum, or did the 
5th Column send you here for another reason, too?"

"My purpose is to continue my work, if I can," Melissa stated, 
honestly.

"What is your work?" Julie asked, making no attempt to hide her 
interest.

"I have been involved in a covert project for the 5th Column. It is a 
very deep level project...I am not certain what sort of liberties I have to 
discuss it."

"I think you better find some liberties," Chris said, eyeing the 
wrapped package on the desk. Rachel, who'd given up her post in the office 
chair to stand next to her uncle, gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, hoping he'd 
back down some.  

"It is a very involved project that was begun many years ago on small 
hatchlings. They were put in special training schools called "Creche 
Academies" and they were literally brainwashed while they attended these schools. In 
addition, they were given doses of a growth hormone called Gethanegan, to mature 
their bodies faster, and other drugs that did other things to them...horrible 
things. The idea behind this was to cull a generation of perfect 
soldiers....agressive, obedient, intelligent, strong,  and ready to 
serve at a younger age. Today, many of these Creche students are in command of motherships 
across your world. Unfortunately, a great many of the other hatchlings never made 
it through the program. They suffered physical illness or psycological madness due 
to the experimentation they underwent. Because of this, the program was 
supposed to have been discontinued...but many in the 5th Column believe that 
Creche training pockets still exist.  Since the Creche Academy itself was a 
secret government program on the Homeworld, most people back home are not even 
aware of its existance. Only hatchlings from elite and upper middle class families 
were chosen for it. This is just one more of our Leader's quiet 
manipulations, you see. My work is to expose the Creche Program, and to expose the horrors 
that it created. You see, even with the ones that were considered to be a 
success, there could still be effects that they will suffer later. Latent 
insanity, bone tumors, brain tumors, hatch defects and memory loss, to name a few, 
have all been reported. It is a frightening thing to think that the ripples of 
the Creche experiment are reaching into a second generation of our young."

"Do you suppose Diana was a product of this Creche Academy?' Julie 
questioned, her eyes opened wide.

"I know for a fact that she was. In fact, she and her sister are two of 
their best documented cases, best kept secrets."

"What do you mean by that?" Mike asked.

"I should explain first, that my other goal is to create therapies to 
help Creche students overcome their training and lead normal lives. This, of 
course, would be a two step process, since what was done to them was done on 
both a physical and a mental level. They would need treatment in both areas. 
Diana and her fraternal twin sister, who is called Se'there on the Homeworld, 
began their Academy training at the age of four. Their mother was well aware 
of what Creche Academy was, of course, because she was one of the founders of 
it. The treatments involved drugs, like I stated, to dull their emotional 
response centers, make them more aggressive, and to advance their growth. Then, 
of course, they underwent a brainwashing process not unlike the conversion 
process. Afterwards came the schooling. All the while, they continued with the 
drugs and the reinforced conversions and propaganda teachings. Around the age of ten 
years, something happened. It became apparent that Diana was advancing 
rapidly, particularly in the areas of the life sciences. Unfortunately, that was 
also the year that Se'there shattered. Something happened to her, and she went 
into a state of near catatonia. She never recovered fully and remains 
institutionalized to this day. Se'there functions at the level of a ten year old 
hatchling. She has stopped maturing, mentally. No one knows if this is a trauma 
defense on her part, or if it is brain damage.  At any rate, their younger brother 
learned of my secret involvement in Creche research. He contacted me some time 
ago and asked for my help. Last year, I met with a team of Se'there's case 
managers, and we worked up some new treatment strategies for her. Up until 
recently, she was considered hopeless, because there had been no change in her 
condition for over twenty years. Once they applied some of my findings, the team 
reported some positive response from Se'there. She has a long way to go yet, but 
maybe...one day...Meanwhile, I have used my successes with Se'there and 
other patients to inspire me to continue my work. I hope to help others."

"Good luck. Diana is hopeless!" Polly whooped, "And somehow, I just 
don't see her laying nicely on your couch so you can shrink her crazy head!"

"So David is your contact?" Philip questioned quietly, his eyebrows 
raised in a human gesture of surprise.

Melissa neither confirmed nor denied his question.

"David? Zon! I would have never suspected! Diana would bust a sac if 
she knew her younger brother was 5th column!" Philip continued, showing more 
emotion than he'd ever been known to display.

"You must understand that his position is quite precarious. If Patricia 
were to find out..." Melissa warned.

"She will not learn of it from me."

Robin cleared her throat, demanding Melissa's attention.

"Besides Diana, do you know if other Visitors were in this Creche 
Program?" she asked.

"I know of several," Melissa responded.

"I'm worried about what you said about the effects reaching into a 
second generation. I was forced to...um...Well, I was a prisoner of Diana's 
once, and she forced me to participate in an experiment with the Visitor Youth 
Leader, Brian. Elizabeth was the result of that..."

"Forced to participate in an experiment?" Polly thundered from her 
spot, "Screw that, Binna. You didn't even get the turkey baster treatment! 
Diana sicced Brian on you, and he raped you! Why can't you just say it!"

Looks shifted around the room from Robin to Polly. Polly flushed and 
crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant stance.

"Polly..." Robin started. Then, she turned to Melissa, and gave her an 
imploring gaze.

"I'm worried about my daughter, Elizabeth. You may have even heard of 
her. She's known as the Starchild. Brian is her father," she explained.

It seemed to Robin that Melissa struggled with her answer for a moment. 
Her human guise tightened for a second, and her posture stiffened. Beside 
her, Theo was as rigid as a rock, and unblinking behind his mask.

"Yes, I am afraid that he was," she responded finally.

"What, then, could happen to Elizabeth?"

"Right now, the effects are not as well known. It seems that the second 
generation is limited to hatch defects, as most of the Creche Students 
have postponed having families until just recently. Some of the defects 
included blindness, spontaneous egg ejection, deformities of the limbs, and mild 
retardation.  If your daughter was not born with any of these afflictions, perhaps 
she does not suffer any latent effects from her father's involvement in the 
Creche Program. Then again, there could be other effects that we will not know 
about until the second generation ages some."

This answer produced some relief in Robin, but not much. However, it 
caused Madeline to squirm uncomfortably. As if sensing her discomfort, Emily 
began to squirm and hiss in her arms until Madeline rubbed her crest to calm 
her. Philip turned to look at his daughter, a troubled look crossing his own 
human guise. He did not know if Lydia had been a Creche Student, but he was 
fairly certain that Martin had been, as they had been parted and schooled 
separately. The government had convinced their parents that since they were identical 
twins, it would be unhealthy for them to be lumped together all their lives. 
Instead, it was felt that different schools would help Martin and Philip develop 
their own, separate identities. Could what had happened to his twin affect 
Emily? He doubted it, but it troubled him just the same. That arguement would 
bear no concern at all if he learned that Lydia had been a Creche Student. Any 
ill effects Emily suffered would then be directly attributed to that fact 
and to none other. Yet, as he glanced at Melissa, a cold sense of dread overcame 
him. He suddenly did not wish to ask her.

Theo still sat, as though he was transfixed, his gaze alternately 
locked on Robin and Polly. They didn't appear to notice because he had to shift 
his gaze from left to right to look at them, as they did not stand next to each 
other. Before long, all conversation in the room ceased when several hoarse 
gasping noises could be heard. Melissa jerked in her chair, responding 
instantly to Theo's respiratory distress. The noises were somewhat muffled until 
Melissa slipped the mask off his face. Then, it became obvious that Theo had 
gone into throes of what sounded much like a human's asthma attack. He slumped 
from his chair and landed on the floor, clawing at his neck and ripping at his 
skin as if he was desperate for air.

"I need my case!" Melissa cried, her reverberation echoing loudly, "He 
has medicine in it!"

"We put it behind the desk!" Rachel responded. She moved surprisingly 
fast despite the people in her way. Within moments, she'd retrieved the odd 
looking case, and brought it to the scientist.

Melissa yanked another, much smaller mask out of the case that had a 
thin tube attatched to a medicine mist dispenser. She had it hooked up in 
seconds, while Theo continued to choke and gasp for air. Then, while everyone 
watched in horror, she strapped the mask to his face and depressed the button that 
released the mist into the mask for him to inhale.  Within a minute, 
Theo's breathing was nearly normal and the crisis was apparently over. Another minute 
passed before Melissa removed the mask and allowed him to sit up.

"This, unfortunately, is what the Red Dust did to Theo. He survived it, 
but he suffered permanent lung damage. He will need this medication for the 
rest of his life. I feel any of you that know him should know this in case of 
such an emergency. What you saw me do is exactly how to respond to one of his 
attacks. Theo knows how to self administer, but he can only do so if he 
can catch the attack in time. Most of the time, they happen too suddenly, and he 
cannot," Melissa explained.

"What about the anti-toxin?" Julie asked, "Would that do him any good?"

"No. His body has already developed some good antibodies that would 
protect him against another onslaught of the Red Dust itself, oddly enough. 
What he is dealing with now is the scarring, if you will. His lungs were damaged, 
and the damage cannot be repaired without an outright transplant."

"He's got antibodies against the red dust?" Julie asked, in amazement.

"It appears to be so. Theo was exposed to a large quantity at one time, 
which could explain why. The red dust is so new, and frankly, it is a 
dangerous thing to study, so I must take care when researching it. To date, I 
have not been able to make many determinations about its properties or its effects on 
our bodies if an attack is survived."

"Lizard Asthma," Chris huffed, "I used to get asthma when I was a kid. 
They say stress can cause it. Could it be that your gator friend is 
nervous?"

"I am not afraid of you," Theo croaked, speaking for the first time. 
Still sitting on the floor, he gazed up at Chris with a look that almost 
seemed contemptuous.

"Calm yourself, Theo.You are tense," Melissa soothed him. She placed a 
gentle hand on his shoulder and lightly massaged it with the tips of her 
fingers, hoping to release some of his pent up energies. His posture remained 
rigid beneath her touch, and she sighed, realizing just how nervous Theo 
really was. She hoped he would not throw himself into anther attack. Just in case, she 
decided to keep the medication kit nearby.

"Please try to understand that Theo is receiving medical attention. 
This is quite a bit of stress for him to withstand. And...the gentleman that 
spoke of stress affecting his condition is correct. It can and has. He has had 
about all he can handle for the day," Melissa told them.

"I am fine, Melissa. I do not need to be coddled," Theo spat, angling 
an angry gaze towards her. Melissa tightened her grip on his shoulder and 
cast a pleading look to the members of the resistance.

Mike picked up on the hint.

"Brandon, Maggie, you keep to the exits. Everyone else, follow me out 
to the hangar bay for a powwow," he commanded, taking charge of the situation. 
No one lagged, with the exception of the 5th columnists.

"Philip, Jaime, Nigel, I mean you guys, too," Mike said.

Reluctantly, they too abandoned their protective stance around the 
newcomers, which had admittedly gotten somewhat looser when Theo had gone into his 
attack. Sean was the last one out into the hangar bay, looking as 
sullen as usual. 

"Ok, what are we going to do about these guys?!" Robin cried, "That 
Theo is a nutcase! I knew there was something about him that I didn't like, even 
before he opened his mouth!"

"I second that," Chris stated, "Ain't nothin' about none of this I 
like. If the Fixer was here, he'd have that wheezin' gator misted up on 'Corb 
and chirpin' like a bird."

"Yeah, well the Fixer's not here," Robin countered, in a sour tone "So 
it's his own tough luck. I say we 'Corb the Croc and make him talk anyways. 
There's something up with him...I just know it."

"I'm with Binna," Polly agreed, "This whole situation stinks like the 
Devil's armpit."

Robin looked to Polly for just a moment, with a look of shocked 
amazement spreading across her face, surprised that her younger sister actually 
agreed with something she'd said.

Julie only managed a disgusted grimace at the three of them.

"You all just saw what happened in there. If we subject him to more 
stress, he could die," Julie said.

"No big loss," Polly returned.

"How do we know they both weren't faking the whole ordeal? The more I 
think about it, the more convenient it seems," said Rachel.

"He was not faking it," Madeline replied, "I could smell his fear."

The three fifth columnists slowly nodded their agreement to her 
statement.

"Yeah, but isn't Procorb a sedative?" Polly asked, "If we 'Corb him, 
he'll relax. Then, we can question him. We don't have to get "Hambo" on 
him...we just need him to pull that rod out of his ass. Maybe we could even have his 
doctor administer the dose..."

There were a few snickers in the group, but Polly's suggestion 
warranted some serious consideration. Mike and Julie looked to each other.

"Maybe if Melissa is willing to submit to questioning first, he'd be 
more relaxed about it," Mike suggested.

"It's a better possibilty than forcing it on him. I don't like the idea 
of letting an unknown, unpredictable entity into the midst of our 
headquarters, but I don't want to be responsible for causing him any harm, either."

"Well, if he dosn't cooperate willingly, then he'll be our prisoner," 
Chris stated.

"Oh, yeah, and that just went over like a fart in church. Remember what 
happened to Brian?" Mike countered. He then shot an apologetic glance 
to Robin.

"So what? We got the Red Dust, didn't we? I say, Atta Girl!" Chris 
continued, addressing Robin with a wink.

"I do not think any of this should be necessary. You did not subject 
Jaime, Nigel or Orlando to any of these treatments. Why them?" Philip 
questioned.

"Because, Philip, they didn't start spewing off at the mouth and 
yelling, and glaring at us, like Theo has," Robin replied, "I get the distinct 
impression that he's not 5th column."

"Yeah, and I don't like the fact that your doctor friend is cozied up 
to him," Polly added.

"All in favor of Procorb on Theo, raise your hands," Mike called.

Around the hangar bay, hands shot up, save for the fifth columnists and 
Madeline, and Julie. However, Mike rationalized that Madeline may not 
have voted because she had her arms full of a squirming hatchling.

"All in favor of not using the Procorb, raise your hand," Mike 
continued, to be democratic. As he suspected, the fifth columnists raised their 
hands, and this time, it seemed Madeline had no problem voting either, Emily or 
no. As a matter of fact, Emily decided to mimic her father, who was within her 
line of vision, and she was emphatically waving her claws in the air. Julie 
held her ground as she usually did, chosing the more cautious route.

"I vote we have Howie come here and administer the meds. I just know 
I'm going to be asked to do this, and I don't want to be held responsible 
for killing him," Julie said.

"I'll do it, no problem," Robin deadpanned, half-seriously.

"I say we have Melissa do it," Polly insisted, "She seems to know 
stuff. We can watch her to make sure she's really doing it. We'll handle the 
questioning. And, if he shows any signs of distress, we'll stop. Deal, Julie?"

"Alright, that sounds better, but on one more condition. I want the 
room cleared of anyone that's not necessary. I'll be there to observe from a 
medical standpoint, and we'll need one more resistance person that has 
experience with questioning. For Theo's sake, we'll need an equal number of fifth 
columnists. That makes two humans, two fifth columnists, and two people guarding 
the doors. No more."

"You'll need a recorder, too," Rachel said, "Someone to sit quietly out 
of the way and take notes. I'll do that. I'll sit at the desk where no one 
will see me."

"Good point," Mike said, "Now, I've noticed that for some reason, Robin 
makes Theo nervous. Maybe it's all the dirty looks you give him. Chris, too. 
You two are out. I don't want Watts anywhere near the situation, so he's 
out. Maggie looks exhausted, so we'll let her off..."

Finally it was decided that Mike would handle the interrogations, while 
Rachel would record, Julie would observe, and Jaime and Philip would 
act as liasons for Theo and Melissa. Nigel and Sean would guard the exits. Rachel went 
to take her post at the desk while Mike and Julie went to talk to Melissa 
about their plans for Theo. Before much discussion got underway, Rachel let 
out a loud whoop.

"Hey, didn't Julie have the package put over here on the desk? I could 
have sworn she did!"

Julie's eyes instantly tracked over to the desk and opened wide. 
Indeed, she knew that package had been placed on the desk, in her plain sight. Now, 
it was gone.  Rachel was making a careful inspection of the area.

"Maybe I accidentally knocked it off when I went for Melissa's medicine 
kit!" she cried, with an edge of panic in her voice.

"No, it was still there when you brought the medicine kit over here," 
Julie said, "I know it was." 

By now, those that had been left in the hangar bay began to shuffle 
back in, one by one, at the sounds of the disruption within the main building.

"Yeah, well did anybody search Donovan's brat?" Brandon inserted, with 
his head poking in the door, "I think he took his exit guard duty a little 
too seriously, and took off. I'll even bet the ten dalars that Madeline 
'stoll' that he 'stoll' the 'Corb, too."

"What the hell would make you think that?" Mike countered, his tone 
teetering on dangerously annoyed.
 
"Well, clue one. Sean's not here. Not as far as I can see, anyways. 
Clue two. The 'Corb is missing. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure 
that one out."

"I'll check the bathroom," Chris offered, "And if that little pig is in 
there, I'll flush him out real good."

"He couldn't have gotten far," Julie said, "Not on foot."

"Maybe he didn't leave on foot. He knows how to hotwire cars," Mike 
inserted. Then he turned his attention back to the group that had returned from 
the hangar bay.

"Did anyone see him leave the hangar bay?" Julie asked.

She was met with a chorus of shrugs and headshakes.

"No one suspected that he would, so why would we watch for it?" Polly 
asked, innocently.

Chris's search of the bathroom turned up empty. Mike roamed the parking 
lot, and as he was beginning to suspect, his Blazer was missing. He reported 
this to the group solemnly.

"Why didn't we hear the engine start up?" Maggie asked, "The walls 
aren't that thick. I can hear cars start up from inside..."

"Not if he put it in neutral and rolled it towards the road before 
starting it. We were all busy talking, and no one would have heard a thing," 
Brandon offered.

"That sneaky lil' shit!" Chris cried.

"I'd just like to know when he got his greasy little mits on the 
'Corb," Maggie said.

"Yeah, and I'd like to know what he plans to do with it. Is he into 
black market dealings?" Polly asked.

"Nope. He's probably gonna mainline it..." Brandon shot back.

"That's quite enough," Mike barked.

"Sadly, both possibilities could exist," Philip explained, "Sean knows, 
from the camp, that Procorb causes a high. Unfortunately, it is known to be 
addictive in repetitive doses. Also, it sells quite well on the 
streets, so I have heard."

He then turned to Julie.

"I will explain this to Howie. It is not your fault, what has happened 
here. You should not have to take the blame."

Julie bit her lip, feeling a flush creep into her cheeks. She alone had 
been the one to heed Howie's warnings, but she knew that Mike felt an equal 
amount of shame.

"Well, until we get more Procorb, Theo stays under guard. Maggie and I 
can keep watch on him, I reckon," Chris stated. He looked around the main 
room, mentally tabulating what he'd need to gather from his house to maintain 
enough supplies to outfit a guardpost. Julie glanced at Maggie, wondering how 
she'd hold up, based on what Chris had just informed her about her condition. 
However, she kept her mouth shut, in case Maggie got upset about such 
confidential information getting leaked out without her permission.

"We can take turns," Brandon offered, with a half predatory smile on 
his face.

"You better just stick to you job at the Tune Emporium there," Chris 
informed him easily, "We all know what happened the last time you was gator 
sittin'"

"I'll help," Polly volunteered, "I won't have much going on until the 
fall semester starts at U.C."

Once again, it seemed that Theo stiffened, but only Melissa noticed.

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

Much later that night, after extra provisions for Theo had been 
brought, and most of the human resistance members had gone to their various homes, 
with the exception of Mike, who'd borrowed Chris's pick-up truck to search for 
Sean, Melissa and Theo laid stretched out on their rollaway beds. Outside of 
their makeshift sleeping area, which was really just a sheeted off section of 
the main room, they could hear the movements of the bulky human man named 
'Chris' who was acting as guard for the night's shift.

"I thought you said these people are your friends," Theo hissed to 
Melissa in the semi-darkness.

"David is my friend, and David has friends among some of their 
members," Melissa replied, tiredly.

"They are not my friends. You will soon see, Mi'Alith'ca. They are 
killers."

Melissa turned onto her side to face Theo, surprised somewhat to be 
addressed by her Sirian name. It had been so long since she'd heard it!

"That is the Creche telling you that. You must not subscribe to that 
thinking," she told him earnestly.

"It is not the Creche. It is the truth. You must protect me, Melissa. 
Do not let them put that Procorb in me. It will be my undoing. I swear to all 
things holy, Mi'Alith'ca, you must not let them. Make something up, if you 
must!"

"You ask me to lie to them, Th'ian..." she started, but her arguement 
was lost when Theo sat up on his bed, reached over and pulled Melissa to a 
sitting position on hers. Their cots were scooted so close together in the tiny 
space that their knees now touched. Tenderly, he brought her face to his and 
kissed the corner of her mouth.

"It is not lying if it saves a life. Your job is to save my life, is it 
not?"

"Yes..." Melissa sighed.

"Our families have known each other for many years. You and my little 
sister were the closest of friends as hatchlings. You are all I have to trust, 
Mi'Alith'ca. You would do this one small thing for me, would you not? 
You would do it in the memory of L'ura, would you not?"

"Alright, Th'ian, I will if I must, but only if it comes to that. 
Promise me but one thing?"

"Anything I can."

"You must try to contain yourself. Do not do anything to stir up the 
contempt or the suspicion of these humans. That will likely be your undoing 
before any Procorb will. Promise me that?"

Theo took a beat to answer, but then he nodded slowly.

"Yes, I see your wisdom. We have an agreement," he replied.

They both then laid back down on their respective cots, but fell asleep 
with their claws clasped across the narrow space that separated their beds.

Their pact was made, and a deal was a deal.

The End

Stay Tuned for Book Three in the Series:

Eye in the Sky