The wreckage was like nothing Jack had ever seen. They had simply come to pack it up, but that was easier said than done. The first wreck would be small enough that it could be easily moved, but there was no easy way to get to it as it was surrounded by federally protected forest. As such, it had to be removed piece by piece. That meant that he and his team could view it directly. There was no circuitry that any of them could recognize. There was no recognizable combustion system. The engines were constructed on principles that not even the most brilliant of their engineers could recognize.

The closest that any of them could come to explaining what they were seeing was when one engineer surmised that the crystals that were laced throughout the ship were the circuits, were the computers, and were the ship's systems.

Jack said, "You mean like on the planet Krypton?"

The engineer who posited the theory said, "Exactly, or like Superman's Fortress of Solitude."

"Okay, that would be really cool if it were possible."

"Well, maybe it's not possible for us, but it's clear that there isn't just us."

The next problem was the second crash. It was just as remote, and that ship was quite a bit larger. They were clearly the same technology, but what made the small crash more interesting was the fact that there were bodies…and they didn't die from injuries related to the crash. The injuries had been caused by those staff weapons. What was more intriguing was that the bodies were human, except that there were minor differences. Their medical examiner described them as a Darwinian "what if". What if humans had evolved on another planet?

Jack was no scientist, but it sure was an interesting question. Where had they come from? Why were they so decidedly human? Most importantly, what was the reason behind the war that had been brought to Earth's doorstep? Who was fighting who, for what reason, and what was their intention for Earth? He really wanted to have a word with that mysterious cop-killer that the state troopers had captured. He would have to ask General West about procuring the prisoner.

Coming out of the woods was another military team. General West must have decided that the murder and the armed assailants in the forest merited a special investigative unit. Then he saw who was in charge of the reinforcement.

"Shit," he said.

It was Colonel Simone Porter. He didn't hate her. He didn't dislike her. Regardless, he didn't want to be in the same state with her. She was a forty-something black woman with a statuesque figure, and a monumental attitude. She approached within ten feet and saluted. Jack returned the salute, though he was sure he didn't look very enthusiastic.

Simone said, "Well, if it isn't Colonel Jack. Who did you piss off to end up down here?"

Jack smiled and said, "Nobody. I requested the assignment."

"That's your story." She turned to the man beside Jack. "Hey! Kawalsky, you still hanging around with this loser?"

Kawalsky smiled and said, "He finds the best beer."

"Hey, shit. That's a good reason. I'm down for that." She looked at the wreckage. "So, humans flew it, but it's not human. That's what I was led to believe."

Jack said, "That's what it looks like."

"Meanwhile, accompanying the crash is a team of soldiers, equipped with weapons unlike any we have ever seen. Their techniques that have been observed, and were captured on the dash-cam of one Sergeant Carol Lawrence, are not unlike our own special forces."

"That's right. It's a shame that dash-cam was disabled so early in the fight."

"Still, it gave us some insight into what we're dealing with. They wear armor in a style reminiscent of the Ancient Middle East. They even wear kohl."

"Coal?"

"Kohl! K-O-H-L. It's black makeup that the Ancient Egyptians used. You'd probably call it eye-shadow. In fact, it's still used in makeup. It is eye-shadow."

Kawalsky had a strange look on his face as he said, "These badass soldiers wear makeup?"

"Kohl. They wear it in the traditional Ancient Egyptian style. Men and women used to wear it for religious reasons."

Jack looked at her strangely and said, "Funny you should say that. Our experts say that all of the writing in these ships is in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics."

"I know. I've been keeping apprised. There's some very curious shit going down here."

Jack said, "What are you thinking?"

"There are some archaeologists that theorize that ancient aliens may have been involved in the birth of our civilizations, but the ones that come to mind whose specific focus is on Ancient Egypt are a Swedish national named Catherine Langford and an American named Daniel Jackson. Jackson has been in Giza for the past year, but Langford lives in Washington, D. C. She's been in my office too many times to count about some alien curio her father discovered and the Pentagon is keeping in a warehouse somewhere."

"'Alien curio,' you say?"

Simone nodded and said, "Her father found it in Ancient Egypt along with a mummy; a mummy wearing the exact armor your kohl wearing soldiers had."

A dim bulb brightened. Jack said, "That's why General West called you in."

"A lot of people in Washington think that the parallels between this crash and Doctor Langford's research merit further examination."

Kawalsky said, "So these really could be humans from another planet."

Jack said, "Well, it's safe to say that my Holy-Shit-o-Meter just went nuts. Do you suppose we could arrange a meeting with Doctor Langford?"

"If you can catch her when she's not running around Capitol Hill. First, let's make sure there aren't any death ray toting psychopaths in these woods."

"That's a problem. We found one in a catatonic state. He had a bad experience with a water moccasin. One is dead courtesy of the Missouri State Highway Patrol, and one is in their custody. All ground evidence suggests that there are seventeen more and that they are no longer around."

Kawalsky said, "Our guess is that they made themselves scarce when the cops showed up."

Simone said, "Bad guys usually do."

Jack said, "You should have seen it. They must have had fifty patrol cars on that little stretch of road. They had an onsite forensics lab and a mobile command center. The only thing missing was a donut stand."

"That's generally how they react to cop-killers." She looked at the wreckage with the teams pouring over it. "So, you're sure there are no hostiles in the forest?"

"This isn't my first rodeo, Simone. I've had snake-eaters out searching since yesterday. We've got infrared. We've got spy satellites looking right at us. We even have a few trackers, and we've got dogs out there. Hostiles were there yesterday. Today they're gone."

"Hey, it's good. I'm just covering my bases."

"Yeah, we need to broaden our search. If they're in the cities we'll lose them and we can't afford to do that."

Simone nodded and said, "General West's orders are to get this out of here and to Scott Air. Meanwhile, I've got possible alien soldiers to track. Once you're done here, you're to join me and assume operational control of the search. He seems to think you're better at this Boy Scout shit than I am."

"Am I?"

"Hell, yeah. Man, my idea of roughing it is forgetting to bring a can of Off to a barbeque."

Jack and Kawalsky both laughed. Jack said, "Sounds like a plan to me." He turned to the research team and said, "Okay, let's pack it up. You can play with it later."

# # #

Once Aylala was safe, reality hit her. Samrenga and Tophalga were dead. Jaffa had entered the craft and shot Samrenga before their very eyes. Tophalga gave his life to make sure the rest could escape. Now, Aylala was separated from the others, miles away with no way of contacting them. The only link she had to her home were the zat'niq'tal that Carol didn't know she had and the gatekey she had stolen from the police evidence bags.

She had to find a way to her friends and to continue their quest, which had lately been to return home and start a rebellion against Ra. Many planets had rebelled and now lived in freedom from the despot. Still, she had no intention of betraying Carol. After all that Carol had done for her, she would rather die than betray her.

If there was one thing that Aylala could say, it was that she liked Earth. In her life, she had never been anywhere like Earth. She liked hot chocolate. She liked hot showers. She liked rock and roll. She liked Star Wars. She loved, loved, loved ice cream. She also liked Nate, Jr., but she had no way of telling him, and she wasn't going to express it because she suspected that he found her a bit strange. She was learning, though. She was learning fast, and it wouldn't be long before she could talk to him.

For Carol's part, she was completely enamored of the young girl. She simply watched as the enigmatic young girl would pick up everything she saw and say its English name. Two days had passed and she was already forming sentences. That puzzled her and she began to seriously give thought to what her still nameless suspect had said about Aylala being special. She leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Aylala observing her world.

"Aylala," she said.

Aylala turned at the sound of her name.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Where are you from?"

Aylala gave her a puzzled expression. The word "where" was the problem. Carol wasn't sure how to express the meaning of a word as abstract as "where". She had taught the girl "here" and "there" well enough, but "where" remained a point of confusion. "Are" was another word that caused some trouble.

Aylala, in her mind, felt that the best way to understand this language was to listen to it. Her memory could not fail and she felt that if she heard enough instances of a word used in multiple ways, she would begin to understand it.

Nate called out from the living room, "Mom, where's the salt."

Carol had a similar idea and as she was pondering this very problem, decided to take advantage of it. She picked up the salt and said, "The salt is here."

Aylala put the pieces together. "Where!" she said.

"Where are you from?"

Nate said, "What?"

"Come in and get it. Your legs ain't broke."

Aylala pointed up. "I am from far away."

Two days, and Aylala could communicate like this. "That man said you were special."

"Jaffa?"

"Who?"

"The men you fought. They are Jaffa. They are after me."

"Why are they after you?"

"Ra chose me. My mind is…it is…" she held her flat palms to her head and tapped each side of the crown with her palms alternatingly. "Word…word…my mind is…" She snapped her fingers and pointed with both hands. "I cannot forget. I see; I never forget. I hear; I never forget. It stays in my mind forever."

"You have a photographic memory."

"What is photographic?"

Carol blew into her cheeks. "Well, a photograph is…this is a photograph." She pointed to a picture of her son. "And photographic; it's like, you see something, your mind takes a photograph of it and you can look at it whenever you want." It suddenly struck Carol that this was why Aylala was learning so quickly. If her memory was perfect, then nothing ever had to be repeated. She wouldn't forget things she learned. For her, learning was instant and once she learned it, she didn't have to practice. She could simply put what she learned to immediate use and make adjustments as she went. That was why after merely two days, she was speaking a comprehensible form of English.

Still, that seemed a stretch. Carol even worked with people with photographic memories. They weren't like this. They definitely could recall information nearly perfect, but to blow through a foreign language would be a bit daunting to them. This girl was on a whole other level. Regardless, her understanding of English was still painfully basic. She decided not to ask about complicated things until the girl had learned more. Instead, she tried to ask about something the Aylala knew. "Who are Jaffa?"

"Jaffa are Ra's…what is word…word…word…police? No. Soldiers. Jaffa are Ra's soldiers."

"And who is Ra?" And wasn't he a bit egoist calling himself that?

"Ra is the god of sun."

"Honey, Ra isn't real."

"Yes, he is. He is…I do not know words."

Someone calling himself Ra and professing to be the very sun god of Egyptian mythology chose her for something, and it may have been for her memory. If she could learn complex systems exponentially faster than ordinary people, that would be very valuable. Carol was beginning to understand why these Jaffa were chasing her.

Throughout the day, Aylala continued to find a name for every new thing that she came across. It was a marvel how Aylala seemed to experience things much more deeply than other people. Carol had been surprised to discover that the girl was more than experienced with Chess; she knew so little about anything else. Still, Carol supposed she shouldn't be surprised. It was, after all, the oldest game in the world.

Festus, Missouri…

Three days had passed since the crash and Simone had managed to rather quickly pick up the trail of two men that may have come from the crash. They had happened upon a camp site where a family was vacationing from up north; a husband and wife and two daughters. Simone was sickened when she saw what the monsters had left behind. The father had been killed while fishing in the Little Piney River. It was more of an oversized creek than a river, but it was rich in rainbow trout. He had been cleaning a catch when his attacker stabbed him in the base of the skull.

The mother was back at the campsite, and had died trying to defend her children. She and one of her daughters died hiding in the tent. The other daughter managed to escape and had by chance encountered one of Simone's teams. The situation could no longer be contained. That had been well over fifty miles from the initial crash site and by the time Simone's troops could respond, they had already taken the family vehicle. They couldn't close off such a broad swath of the Mark Twain National Forest. To make matters worse, this was a high tourism part of the forest, with Rolla, the Civil War town of Pilot Knob, Lane Springs National Park, and Meramec Springs National Park in this vicinity alone. Traveling farther north was Meramec Caverns and further south was Branson. All of those tourist traps surrounded the Lake of the Ozarks and the Tantara Resort. Cutting right down the middle of all of it was one of the most historic stretches of Route 66.

That rural part of Missouri brought in hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue each year for the state and federal governments. If they shut this area down, even for a few murders, they'd take hell from the Missouri State governor's office. Jack's voice came over her radio. "Can I get a heads up?"

"Yeah, fucked up beyond all recognition." She looked at her watch. "Jack, I have a lead in Festus, a stolen Dodge Caravan that a couple of our targets may be cruising along in. Cops saw the license plate about fifteen minutes ago and let us know. A couple of my boys found another lead heading up to Pevely. Some kind of altercation with some bikers and a couple of Confederate flag waving rednecks. Which one do you want?"

"The Pevely one sounds interesting. I get kind of bored chasing stolen minivans. What's the story behind that one?"

"They murdered a family and stole their ride. They killed a nine-year-old girl that the mother was trying to shield. The fifteen-year-old got away and found Major Hartley."

"Ah, shit. I hope they resist."

"Damned straight."

It had taken another hour to get to Festus and Simone was worried the trail would go cold. Police made way for the Humvee and armored truck that came cruising up the street to examine the stolen vehicle for themselves. They were able to break the lock on the hatch within seconds and they found the abandoned armor in back.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Simone turned to Air Force personnel and to the police. "The guys who stole this van murdered a family of campers for it. We are beginning a manhunt immediately. I want all available officers looking for these guys. You're looking for men of Middle Eastern descent, fit and in shape, probably shaved bald. It is probable that they do not speak English. They do not have ID or if they do, they are not valid. They are armed and extremely dangerous. I want roadblocks at every exit from town. I want to stop all traffic crossing into Illinois. If you encounter them, do not engage. Radio for assistance."

Simone held up drawings of two men. "These are facial composite sketches of the murderers. I want these on the front pages of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and the Chicago Tribune. I want them on Fox, ABC, CBS, CNN, and any other news source you can think of. If you have to defend yourselves, shoot to kill." A deputy sheriff took the sketches as she turned to her men. "We're starting in town. Look in every shop, every alley, every dumpster, every sewer hole, go door to door. I want these bastards. Get to it!"

Air Force personnel and police alike scrambled to obey. Simone almost expected the police to complain about taking orders from military, but nobody was going to say no to hunting a couple of worthless child killers. They didn't say a word about it.

She took out her radio and said, "Colonel O'Neill, come in."

"I read you, Colonel Porter."

"They were here. I've called a full scale manhunt."

"General West isn't going to like that."

"Sorry, Jack. These assholes are killing civvies. We have to ramp this up."

"Yeah, I hear that. Look, these bikers have our boys up here in hiding. We're going to see if we can flush them out. When we're done here, I'm going to see about making your manhunt statewide. There are a lot of these guys running around."

Simone said, "Sounds good. I'll keep you posted."

It was fifteen minutes later that Simone got a call from Major Hartley. He had found a couple of suspicious characters making their way across town. They looked like the police sketches and they carried themselves like military. The men realized they were being followed and they turned down an alley off of Olive Blvd. That had been their mistake. At one end, they met Major Hartley and two of his men. When they turned to go back, they met Simone and Captain Hauser.

"Where are you going, boys?" asked Simone. The men simply looked at each other and the back at her warily. "We just want to have a little chat. Been round about Pilot Knob lately?"

One of them drew a weapon, a small black device reminiscent of a Star Trek phaser. He began to fire off electrical bolts. As Simone and her men drew down, the Jaffa dove for cover behind a dumpster. The other one managed to break and run. "Nab him!" Simone ordered and she pursued the runner, following him across two intersections, never thinking that she was disregarding her own admonition that nobody should attempt to apprehend these men without assistance. He vaulted clear over moving cars. Simone rolled over the hoods. Following him down another back alley, he drew his own weapon of the same type. She drew her gun and put a bullet right between the Jaffa's eyes.

Hartley came across her radio. "We got him. We managed to rush him, and he's shackled now."

"Mine's dead. Get a body bag down here."

If Simone had been paying attention to the body, she might have noticed something interesting. She might have noted how the dead man's stomach undulated under the influence of something inside. She might have noticed a hideous creature breaking its way free. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the alien vacate its Jaffa, who carried and incubated it for all of his life. She didn't notice it coil and spring and when she felt it latch onto the back of her neck, it was already too late.

Meanwhile in Pevely, Jack and his men had a Motel 6 surrounded. Yes, two bikers who had been selling Civil War memorabilia favoring the Confederacy at a local flea market had noticed the decidedly Persian men and started trouble with them—after all, dressed in that armor and wearing makeup; they were asking for an old-fashioned ribbing. These alien warriors believing that they could easily dispatch these fools had attacked them viciously. They had underestimated the bikers and found themselves fleeing twenty of them, some of them old Hell's Angels, and thus, they holed up in a motel waiting for the trouble to pass.

Kawalsky couldn't stop laughing listening to the account. By the time every witness was done explaining what had transpired, Kawalsky, and indeed most of Jack's team had tears in their eyes. Jack said, "Thank you very much for your service, gentlemen, but we'll take it from here. We need them in one piece."

One biker said, "Hey, when I'm done shoving this broom handle up their asses, they'll still be in one piece."

Kawalsky almost screamed in laughter and coughed loudly to cover it. Two soldiers covered the door, staying at either side. A microphone was put on the door and the operator looked back and nodded, confirming that the room was occupied. The other soldier operated a fiber optic camera that he stuck under the crack of the door. Jack saw the two men, in full armor and kohl, with their staff weapons aimed at the window.

Jack stepped up the door with the troop on the right and pulled out a flash grenade. He signaled to break the door. A soldier approached with a battering ram. Jack pulled the pin on the grenade, released the handle and nodded. The battering ram swung, knocking the door off its hinges. Jack rolled the flash grenade and in two seconds a brilliant light filled the room. Soldiers rushed immediately into the room to find the warriors trying to ward off the light from the flash grenade.

There was no resistance. By the time they could see again, they were already surrounded and they were being physically disarmed. There were two shotgun blasts and both warriors were struck hard in their backs with beanbags. It was all over.

Five had now been captured alive, four by the Air Force, and one by the Missouri State Troopers, and it seemed he was the only that spoke English. When Jack finally rendezvoused with Simone, he noted a distant look in her eye. She was preoccupied and he realized she must have been thinking about the horror she had witnessed at the camp grounds.

"Hey, Simone, what happened earlier today at the campground, that's why we do this, right? We're here to protect people and get rid of the scumbags who do shit like that."

Simone nodded and continued to stare blankly into the distance. "I hope you never see anything like that. They did that to a little kid. The one psycho that survived; I wish we hadn't taken him alive." She stood up and walked over to the Humvee. Jack distinctly heard her ask for General West's office. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help but hear snatches of conversation. "I have absolute confirmation, sir," he heard. "These guys are looking for it, one of them had…" Jack couldn't hear the rest. "The Doorway to Heaven, sir." Jack happened to know that what she was talking about was classified above top secret, but it seemed like she wanted him to hear what she said. Her conversation was discreet enough, but it was still awfully public. Simone had to suspect that someone might overhear. Jack decided to say nothing as she passed him. "Jack, get some sleep. We have ten more to find."

They had no other leads but there was one trail leading them to Farmington. Simone checked into her motel room and went to the bathroom, but to not get ready for bed, but to confront the mirror. Her stare was so intense, it was a wonder she didn't shatter the glass.

:::You've done an excellent job, Simone. General West could very well reopen the Stargate thanks to what you've told him.:::

Simone continued to stare into the mirror. :::All right, why did I tell General West they were trying to locate the Doorway to Heaven?:::

:::Stop calling it that! Are all Tau'ri like this? Proper names matter and if you're too illiterate to use them, that doesn't make your name more valid.:::

:::What does a snake know about literacy?:::

:::Very funny. You know, this would be much easier if you'd just submit to me. I'm here. You can't change it.:::

:::Not a chance in hell. My granddaddy and my great-granddaddy were slaves. I'll rip my eyes out before I let you make me a slave.:::

:::You don't need to tell me. Our minds are one now. If you would only give in, you'd see you don't have to be a slave.:::

:::I just have to do everything you want, right?:::

There was a sigh. :::You're going to be difficult. I'll make you a deal Simone: don't tell your fellow Tau'ri about me and help me with my occasional interests, and I'll leave you in peace. Beyond that, all you have to do is let me enjoy your life with you. I am with you for the rest of your life, Simone. You do realize that?:::

:::Shut up.:::

:::We may as well be friends. I would hate to live with an adversary.:::

:::Shut up.:::

:::I can be a very good friend.:::

"Shut up!"

# # #

A 20-sided die rolled across the walnut surface of Carol's kitchen. It bounced off of a book and landed on 17. "That's a miss," said Josh. Nate and his friends were playing a game they played every Saturday. Josh rolled the die again and it landed on one. "Goblin gets a critical hit on you, Derek." Josh rolled a 4-sided die. It landed on three. "So that's six hit points you lose."

"Shit," said Nate.

Carol called from the living room, "Watch your mouth, Nate."

"Sorry, mom."

Barry had been bringing his girlfriend to their meetings. When they first met her, they were a bit reluctant, as she was one of the girls that was often seen in the school cliques. They warmed up when they realized that she just as much of a geek as they were, and she even had her own character sheets and polyhedral dice. It was her turn now. She rolled the d20 and it landed on one.

Derek said, "Why can't I ever roll a one?"

Josh ignored him and said, "Critical hit. You have the short bow plus two, that's…" Jack rolled a d8 and it landed on six. "12. You've defeated the goblin."

"I mean seriously. Everyone's rolling one except me."

Barry's girlfriend, Michelle said, "I wish I was rolling one."

Nate said, "My mom's a cop, Michelle, and she's in the other room."

She shrugged. "So? I have freedom of speech. I'm allowed to say that. Just because I say it doesn't mean I'm doing anything illegal. Josh, does the goblin have anything useful on him?"

Josh said, "You find seven gold pieces and a potion of healing. You also find 18 arrows."

"I'll take it all."

Derek said, "So who's the girl staying with you?"

Nate said, "She's some girl that got lost down in the woods. They can't figure out where she's from so she's staying here until they do. Why?"

"She's hot, that's why. You can't tell me you didn't notice."

Nate's mouth suddenly became very dry. He had, in fact, noticed. Aylala tended to favor clothes that hid very little of her. From what she had been able to communicate, she had been raised in the jungle, which might explain her toned body and why she favored very short shirts, and shorts. She may have been of small stature, but her legs were of the sort that gave her the illusion of height.

Derek put it a bit more crudely. "Damn, she's got legs that go forever."

Michelle looked Nate right in the eye and said, "Nate, your face is as red as a beet. I know you're looking. She's living with you. You have to be looking."

Josh said, "Are we playing or are we discussing the assets of the new girl?"

Barry said, "Yeah, that's right. Dungeon masters don't have sex drives."

Josh said, "Come on, are you sitting here waiting for an attack or are you moving on?"

Nate said, "Continue to Neverwinter."

Nate noticed Aylala watching them. Her eyes were wide and curious. He knew she was trying to learn, so he didn't say anything about it, but it made him feel nervous. It felt a bit creepy. He also got the sense that she wasn't just learning the language, but that she was observing their behavior. Absolutely everything amazed her, especially the television, which she planted herself in front of whenever it was on. She was unique.

On the pretense of going to the bathroom, she walked in and looked at the books. If she knew what they were, what would she think about this fantasy game that so many people in the world derided. She looked like one of those unapproachable girls at school, who looked absolutely perfect no matter what they wore. He could easily picture her carrying a Chanel handbag and wearing large pink hoop earrings and styling her hair with so much hair gel it looked like plastic.

When everyone packed up and went home, Aylala asked to see Nate's book.

"You like the pictures?" he asked.

"Yes. I want to read it, also."

"Can you read English?"

"I am learning." He handed her his player's handbook. She looked at the cover and said, "Forgotten Realms."

"Wait, you said you were learning."

"I am. The words that people say are on the bottom of the television. I learn a lot from it."

"You're learning to read by comparing the captions to what people say?"

Aylala nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No. I'm just really amazed that you can do that."

Aylala smiled uncertainly. "In my tribe, I didn't learn until many years that I was the only one."

"'Tribe?'"

Aylala nodded. "That is the word you use for a large family that lives in their own village. I was youngest to learn how to shoot a bow. My mother was frightened when she found out I could read. We are punished for reading."

"You're not allowed to read?" What kind of place was this girl from?

"I read anyway; everything I can."

"Where are you from?"

"Very far away." She sat down at the table and set the book down. "It is a place called Akakor."

Nate sat also, now intrigued by this young girl. "Why did you leave? Why are those men chasing you?"

Aylala looked down at the book then said, "What is this you do?"

Nate didn't pursue the subject. "It's a game. It's called Dungeons and Dragons. We meet and pretend to be adventurers fighting evil monsters. An adventurer is—"

"I know the word. Mom always tells me it is good to pretend." Her voice became heavy as she spoke.

Nate chuckled uneasily. "Well, when we get you back home you can tell her about everything you've learned here."

"I can never go back. I will never see her again." Her voice broke on the last word and tears started streaming down her cheeks.

Nate scooted his chair next to her and said, "Sure you can go home."

She shook her head, a distant look in her eyes. "You do not understand this thing. There is nothing waiting for me there, and if I went back, my mother would not be pleased to see me. Her faith is absolute and I refuse to pray to a false god."

"So where will you go?" He realized that only five days had passed and now she could speak English relatively fluently. She was simply too amazing.

"I will stay in this place. I am tired of running, and I like your Alice Cooper."

Nate laughed. "He's one of mom's favorites."

"Who is your favorite?"

"Oh, well, I guess there's a few. I like Jon Bon Jovi, Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica; I like ACDC. Bryan Adams is cool."

"How do you know his temperature?" She knew she had gaffed when Nate snorted in laughter.

"No, I mean, I think he's good. Cool is…it's slang. You know what slang is?"

She nodded. "So if I think something is good, it is cool?"

"Right."

"Cool. Then hot is bad?"

"No, we say…well like…we say something is hot when it's really popular and a lot of people think it's cool."

"This is very confusing. If I like something, it is cool, and if a lot of people like something, it is hot. That makes sense?"

"Well, it's like…hot is fresh. You know, when you cook something and it's fresh out of the oven, it's hot so…"

"Ah! So things that are new are hot."

"Not just new, but also good. It's new, but everyone loves it and has to have it."

"So it's cool."

"Exactly. You understand."

Aylala regarded Nate in wonder and said, "This place is very strange."

"Hot can also be…well…when someone thinks that someone else is pretty, or handsome, you might say that they're hot."

"Shouldn't you say 'he or she'?"

"I have bad grammar: sue me."

Aylala smiled, "I don't think it merits a legal discourse. 'Sue me', is also slang, is it not?"

"I think so," he said quite seriously.

She looked away and crossed her arms. "You're teasing me."

"Just a little."

She smiled and said, "So, if you say a person is hot you are saying that he or she is pretty or beautiful."

"Yes. For example, I think you're hot."

Aylala blushed, the blood filling her cheeks and forehead unevenly, and smiled hesitantly. "Well, now I certainly feel hot."

Whatever nerve had compelled Nate to say that, it had disappeared. He had never been so forward with women in his life. There was a sudden realization that he had made a pass at a beautiful woman and she hadn't stapled his mouth shut with his teeth. In fact, she had smiled. Now, the discourse that had come so easily moments before would not come. When he finally could speak, he said, "What does your name mean?"

"My name is from the true language. Ra demands that we speak his language, but there is a language of the tribe. Ayla is my name at birth and it is what in your mother's plant books is called 'bird of paradise'. La is the designation given when any woman comes of age and prevails in her rites of passage. La means 'woman' and it tells you that I have earned the right to hunt for my tribe and to go to war."

"'Go to war'?"

Aylala nodded. "We are taught to fight with our hands and feet when we first learn to walk. It is important to know how to fight because if you are out of arrows, what will you do if you are attacked and you cannot use your hands and feet?"

"So, who do your people fight?"

"We are peaceful, but sometimes other tribes invade and try to take what is ours. There are also many wild beasts. I often wished my people would have the courage to fight Ra and his Jaffa, but their might is greater than the bow and arrow or the hand and foot." She looked at him with her brilliant green eyes. They were truly mesmerizing. "You do not know how to fight?"

"Are you kidding me? My mom makes sure I have regular Tae Kwon Do classes. I'm an orange belt."

"So, I am hot." She looked at him with narrow eyes and a shrewd smile.

"You're really hot. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

She smiled broadly and said, "Cool." She opened the book and turned the pages, looking at each for a couple of seconds. She went through the entire book in this manner. He realized that he had seen her go through every book she picked up in this manner. Did Aylala truly have a perfect memory? When she was finished, she looked at him. "Nobody has ever been as kind to me as you and your family." She leaned over and kissed him. True, it was a small, quick kiss, a simple peck that was so brief one could scarcely say it happened, but it was on the lips and to Nate, it felt like a jolt of electricity. She stood up and went into the living room.

Carol came in and sat down at the table across from Nate. Nate, for his part, didn't even notice. He seemed to be in a state of shock.

Carol said, "You know, Nathan, I don't want to be the kind of parent who says, 'you can't date this girl,' or, 'this isn't the right girl for you.' I don't think any of that about Aylala. What I do have to do is remind you of this girl's situation. Nathan, you do realize that you are making this complicated?"

Nathan looked up and said, "What do you mean?"

"While you're sitting here getting attached, there are people looking for her home and there is a very good possibility that very soon, you and she will be worlds away from each other."

"She said her people don't want her."

"I heard, but we don't know all of the circumstances. She's fourteen, on her own, in the middle of a place that's strange to her…I'm just saying that you're inviting heartache, and I don't want to see you hurt."

Nate was still too stunned to completely register what was mother was saying. Almost without thinking he put his fingers to his lips, touching the spot where her lips brushed his.

Carol smiled morosely. "You know, she really is something special." She got up and with her good hand, patted Nate on the shoulder.