"What's the biggest thing you have?" Jenny asked the old man behind the counter.

"The Big Pig Sundae," replied Mr. Menino. "If you can finish it, you must be from outer space."

All five remaining members of Mrs. Krantz' class—Arthur, Francine, Binky, Fern, and George—had gathered at the Sugar Bowl to introduce their newfound alien friend to the joys of ice cream. "My planet has no cows, or mammals of any kind," she told them. "You can get something resembling ice cream there, but it's very expensive, and it's made from a synthetic milk substitute that causes me to break out in hives."

As the kids watched in awe, Jenny shoved one heaping spoonful after another into her lipless mouth. "This is great," she remarked. "Everything here is great. I don't know why I waited so long to get stranded on Earth."

"Her appetite's even bigger than Buster's," Francine marveled.

"Speaking of Buster," George asked the alien, "you don't happen to know where he is, do you?"

"No, I don't," replied Jenny with a mouth full of ice cream, "and I like it that way."

"I don't believe you, Jenny," said Fern. "I think you know where Buster and Beat are, but you're holding out on us."

"Knock knock," said Francine.

"Who's there?" said Fern.

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock who?"

"I'd sherlock it if you'd shut up."

"Let's change the subject," said Arthur. "What did you say your real name is, Jenny?"

"Ablikablukapelifrotz," answered the artichoke-headed girl.

"Why did your parents give you such a long name?" asked Francine.

"My parents didn't name me," replied Jenny. "Kressidan babies are assigned names by the government."

"Well, that takes all the fun out of having a baby," said Fern.

"The point is to eliminate the confusion of two people having the same name," Jenny explained. "We used to choose our own names, but when mass media was invented, everyone started naming their children after movie stars and famous singers."

"Whoa," said Francine in wonder. "That's starting to happen on our planet. I know five girls named Britney."

Jenny scooped up the melted remains of her sundae and drained the spoon into her mouth. Waving her slender hand at Mr. Menino, she said, "I'd like another Big Pig Sundae, please."

The proprietor froze. The waffle cone in his hand fell to the floor.

"What?" Jenny responded to the astonished stares of the kids. "I'm still hungry."


Beat and Buster were also enjoying ice cream, served to them by the friendly, Cockney-speaking staff at the Torchwood Café. They walked on either side of Desirée, Beat with her single scoop of vanilla, and Buster with his tower of sardine ripple, curry chocolate chip, Szechuan praline pecan, and the Mystery Flavor of the Week.

"Let me know if you need help finishing that," said Buster to the rabbit-aardvark girl.

Beat chuckled sardonically. "I'll manage, thank you very much."

They rode the elevator up to the thirty-second floor, and walked hastily to their apartment, licking away at their rapidly melting treats. As they approached the door, their long ears picked up an unsettling sound—a heated argument between a man and a woman.

"It's Harry and Bitzi," said Beat, worried. "What do you suppose has them so worked up?"

"Omigosh," said Buster squeamishly. "It's just like when Mom and Dad broke up." The cone trembled in his unsteady hand.

"Relax, children," said Desirée. "Your parents are just letting off a bit of steam."

"I'm not hungry anymore," said the ill-looking Buster. Raising his stack of ice cream toward Beat, he said, "Would you like…"

"No, thanks," said Beat abruptly. "Now that I've got a girlish figure, I want to keep it."

Inside the suite, Petula rested in a crib while Harry and Bitzi hurled exclamations at each other. "I've had as much of your unhealthy obsession with that baby as I can take," Harry complained. "You've stabbed your friends in the back because of her. You've put your real family in danger because of her."

"I haven't stabbed anyone in the back," Bitzi retorted. "What are you talking about?"

"You lied about Mrs. Powers so you could get custody," Harry accused her.

"What part of it was a lie?" said Bitzi incredulously. "She lost all her memories of Alan. She's unfit to raise another child."

"She is not unfit!" insisted Harry. "There's nothing wrong with her mind. They both lost their memories of him."

"Which makes it twice as suspicious," said Bitzi.

"Listen to reason, darling," said Harry earnestly. "What kind of life can we expect if Petula stays with us? What kind of life can Buster expect? We'll be fugitives, running and hiding our whole lives through. You know as well as I do that there's an invasion coming, and from the sound of things, the aliens care less about conquering Earth than they do about putting little Petula to death."

"I said I'd defend her with my life," said Bitzi with determination, "and I meant it. While I'm alive, nobody comes between me and Petula. Not even you, Harry."

"Listen to me!" said her husband, gesturing angrily. "You don't have to give up your life for her. If you leave her in the care of the Torchwood people, she'll be perfectly safe, and we can go on with our business. There are plenty of other orphaned babies who are waiting for you to love them."

"I don't want to hear another word," said Bitzi, dragging her ears over her temples.


On TWA Flight 751 bound for London's Heathrow Airport sat a cat woman in a sleeveless pink blouse and jeans. She held a celebrity gossip magazine open in her hands, but her mind was too distracted to focus on the latest allegations that Paris Hilton's chihuahua was gay.

I don't like to think about the people who will suffer because of what I'm about to do, she mused, but an order is an order.

In rural Brainynerd, Minnesota, dozens of men wearing caps and grubby jackets, and even a few women, filed into the town hall. The occasion was a meeting of the local militia, and the single item on the agenda was to eliminate the alien threat, peaceably if possible, forcibly if necessary. In the shadows of the nearby woods, a cat woman waited and watched.

Several hundred kids and their parents lined up outside the Elwood City Ice Palace, where the large marquee advertised the current attraction: Mary Moo Cow on Ice. Arthur stood in the middle of the line next to D.W. and his father, wishing earnestly that he could suddenly transform into a grotesque fly creature so as to not be recognized by his friends. At the tail end of the line, a cat woman and a little red-headed cat girl stepped up to their places.

On the eighth floor of the Katzenellenbogan Memorial Hospital, Tommy and Timmy slept like angels in their beds. A nurse walked in, measured their temperatures with an oral thermometer, nodded with satisfaction, and left. The boys dozed on.

On the third floor of the hospital, Tegan Powers groggily opened her eyes. Where am I? she wondered.


To be continued