A lot happened in the space of a couple minutes. It was the kind of thing that you lived through first and only understood days later.

First of all, I had a stationary target. I mean, Sil still had part of the man inside her, so it was kind of awkward for her to move. I didn't have that much difficulty running up and stabbing her with the injector pen.

Guessing that her upper torso would move a lot quicker than her lower, I aimed for her right thigh, mashing the injection button as hard as I could when I broke the skin.

Sil shrieked, knocking me to the floor with a strong backhand.

That's when Josh and Kamara arrived.

"Jesus!" Sil's new boyfriend cried. "What the fuck are you kids doing in here?"

Kamara took out the taser. "Saving your ass!" Then, after an appraising glance, "As bony as it may be."

The man covered himself with a blanket. "Please tell me this is a nightmare and I'm going to wake up!"

"Okay, it's a nightmare, but you're already awake. Sorry!"

"The injection's done!" I shouted.

By this time, Sil was off the bed, stomping after me (actually, limping, on account of the injection). She grabbed me by the throat, bashing me into a concrete wall. A framed picture of ostriches shattered on the floor. "Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? I didn't want to kill you, but you leave me no choice!"

Kamara tased her, but this only annoyed my attacker.

Sil crushed the device to bits, and threw her into a dresser, where she fell unconscious with a bleeding head injury.

Sil's boyfriend (actually, ex-boyfriend now), having had far too much excitement for one day, bolted out the door in his underwear.

Obviously, Sil wasn't pleased. She proceeded to beat the hell out of me.

I'm tough, but she was an adult, and I was smaller, so she had me at a disadvantage.

I clawed at her face, but she kept shoving my hands down and pounding me.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" a voice shouted from the door.

I turned my head just in time to see Laura pulling the trigger on her pistol.

The shot missed, but then Big Bird stepped into the room, folding back her index and middle fingers to reveal her own sort of gun.

A couple taser contacts shot out, jolting my attacker as they stuck to her bare skin.

Sil's fight or flight response switched to flight.

Literally ripping the electrodes out of Big Bird's hand, Sil rammed into Laura, sending her into the dingy yellow carpeting as she shoved off into the hall.

Mr. Lennox had been waiting outside the door, but Sil was ready for him, knocking him back with an uppercut.

I rushed to the door, watching her flee through the complex, desperately hoping that someone else on the team could stop her.

Press drew his gun, firing off a couple shots. The bullet struck Sil square in the middle of her back, dropping her to the floor.

He ran to her, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt as he bore his knees and full body weight upon her.

All of a sudden, Sil ceased to be an ordinary naked human being, transforming into a gray hard shelled creature, a series of insectoid armor plates defining her shapely female figure.

Preston jerked back in surprise. "The fuck?"

Sil took advantage of this momentary distraction by driving her heel into the man's crotch and throwing him down the stairwell.

I dashed after her, but she was already hustling away from me, and Mr. Lennox's unconscious form.

Despite the injection, the hybrid seemed to be moving fine, with no apparent ill effects.

Feeling like my legs would give way beneath me from the fatigue, I followed her down flights of stairs, into the twenty four hour all night Thai Automat.

By this time, Sil had assumed her human form again, which, while being good camouflage, didn't her running outside without a stitch of clothing on. It was dark, but not that dark.

Needless to say, after all that running, and those stairs, I was beyond winded. I was practically jogging as Sil got further and further away.

It should be no surprise, therefore, that Nemo could catch up with ease, on foot.

He offered me his Danjaboard. "Here. Take this. You're fast, but you're tiring out. You don't have a prayer without some help."

I set the board down, staring at it. "How is this thing supposed to work?"

The moment he showed me the accelerator and the brake, I was off down the sidewalk, smashing into the nearest trash can.

As a machine spat out my ticket for the destruction of public property, I wondered, did raccoons also get fines?

Noticing the commotion, Sil turned around and laughed at me. This was the only reason I gained a half block on her.

Then another when I fell on my face a block later.

By the time she understood I had a rudimentary grasp of the board's most basic mechanics, I was within yards of her, and closing fast.

The next intersection lay up ahead of us, the street seemingly deserted.

I was on her now. I supposed I would have to jump on her back and tackle her, maybe distract her by taking a pounding until my comrades arrived on the scene.

That's when the UPS-DHL truck came roaring down the road at seventy miles an hour.

Non-automated vehicle. As in previous centuries, the government had a looser leash around the necks of corporations than its civilians.

Sil's naked body soared through the air, crumpling on the paved intersection half a second later.

"Oh my God!" the driver cried, climbing out of his truck. "Lady, are you okay?"

He wore a yellow and brown dress with the DHL-UPS logo on the chest. It seemed this kind of uniform had become commonplace.

I rushed up to the victim, uncapping another injection pen. I figured, since the first dose hadn't produced the desired effect, nor even slow her down, another one wouldn't hurt.

I brought the injector down between her breasts, pushing the button in.

Turning gray and bug-like, the hybrid shrieked and clamped both hands around my windpipe, attempting to strangle the life out of me.

As I felt, and actually heard my neck bones (or maybe my exoskeleton) cracking beneath my skin, and saw the first starry flecks of asphyxiation drifting across my vision, I heard a choking gurgle issuing from the back of Sil's throat, and foam poured out of her mouth in a big cloud, like she had stuck a bunch of Alka Seltzers in her mouth and swished them around with a bottle of root beer, like a baking soda volcano at a science fair.

Her humanity drained away, her glassy frog eyed visage taking on the half machine appearance of a locust camouflaged to hide in a car factory.

The UPS-DHL man had been summoning an ambulance with his Google Glass, but when he saw what had happened, he clammed up and took the glasses off, getting back in the truck.

"You think you have friends," Sil slurred at me. "Wait `til you become an adult."

Her body stiffened, eyes locked unseeingly into mine.

I made no moves, just stared and shuddered as I stared into those blank eyes.

By the time I had pried her fingers away from my neck, I could barely see, on account of all the tears.

[0000]

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

[0000]

"You attribute too much glory to my grandmother," I said to Golic as I cut into a squirrel monkey with a knife and fork. The primate was raw and bloody, but that didn't mean I had to be uncivilized whilst eating it.

It had become daytime, the sun rising above us, making the heat stifling, the humidity thick.

I had a tray table propped up on my knees, with one of those little ceramic plates. The monkey didn't quite fit on the plate, so I had to tear off pieces to make bits of it fit squarely inside. I didn't want to mar the table.

Golic had been rather ingenious, using airplane seats to make a little living room for us, with a blazing fire roaring in the center. The fuselage stood nearby, in case it rained.

We'd buried all the crew members we could find. Golic wanted to cure their meat for later, but I couldn't do that in good conscience.

Pillow and her two children were content with eating from the stores of dry goods we found scattered on the jungle hillsides. The ones that hadn't been eaten by snakes or stolen by monkeys, that is.

Being as the monkeys didn't have much meat to them, I was on my fifth one. I would've caught a sixth, but they kept getting smarter.

I'd been discussing theology with my companion as we both ate, but we didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "My grandmother is mortal," I explained in between bites. "She's guilty of great sin, and recognizes her need for a savior. I don't understand why you would ascribe to her any sort of deity."

"This is a test," Golic muttered to himself. "As Christ was tested in the wilderness, Shasharmazorb arranged for this meeting to prove my faith."

"You haven't seen Grandmother in her full glory," I said. "If you had, you'd see how the weapons of men can harm her, just like you or I. She is a mere broken shell of what she was before."

Golic already had a prepared answer for this. "She was pierced for our transgressions, she was crushed for our iniquities!"

"No, no," I cried. "I cannot abide with this blasphemy. You are reading your own twisted meanings into the text!"

"This looks cozy."

Upon seeing Weyland, Golic picked up a burning stick from the fire, brandishing it threateningly. "Stay where you are, unless you want to get burned again!"

Weyland had a new shirt on, a flowery khaki buttoned up only halfway. You could see the red scars traveling all the way up to the side of his face.

He touched these scars like he'd never done so before. "Is that why I have these burns?"

Golic let out a barking laugh. "That's good, Mr. Weyland! Funny, funny! Why don't you go back to where you came from? Maybe I'll be nice and not cut your throat open."

Weyland stared like he were trying to figure out the last digit of pi. "Did I...do something wrong to you?"

"I'll say!" Golic cackled. "I'll say!"

Weyland frowned, becoming lost in thought. "Was it the food I served you on the plane? Because I thought you liked chicken..."

"You're feigning amnesia," Golic said. "That's it, isn't it? You want our food!"

"Technically it's my food, as it was my plane."

"Was is the operative word, Weyland. We're not on your island with your men and your rules."

"That may be so, but I still have a gun." He reached into his pocket, then stared at his pants in dismay. "I know I had a gun. It was just here!"

He swore, muttering things to himself, like "Right in my pocket" and "Shoulder holster," patting his body for the missing weapon.

"I just had it," he sighed in frustration.

"Perhaps it's in the other pocket?" I joked.

He scowled at me. "Where are those two jokers that brought down the plane?"

"I don't know."

"Did I...do something bad to Mr. Golic?"

"You pulled a gun on him, sir. Well, actually me. Golic was just protecting me."

For some reason, Weyland seemed amazed by this. "Do you...know why I might have done that?"

Being a forgiving Christian, I said, "No, not really."

Looking troubled, he plopped down in the luxury seat we'd pulled from the wreck, staring into the fire.

"It's said that in nearly every plane crash, there are always two survivors. A woman and a child. Even if everyone else dies, there's always a woman and a child who live. It's an urban legend, of course, complete rubbish." He looked Pillow in the eyes. "But when I see you, it makes me wonder."

He rubbed the crease of flesh where his nose and eyebrows wrinkled together. "Jennifer didn't make it, did she."

"Oh, she made it, all right," I said. "She's just feeling a little under the weather."

"She means a conference table," Golic said in a conspiratorial tone.

"I've been reading her Winnie the Pooh," I added. "It's a little bit of irony I particularly enjoy."

"She's got a lot of meat on her bones. I'm surprised you didn't just dig in."

I didn't acknowledge this with a verbal reply. I just made a face that said, `Really, sir.'

"Who is Jennifer in relation to me?" Weyland asked.

"You are very good at faking amnesia," Golic said. "You almost have me convinced."

"He has brain cancer," I said.

"Are you sure it's not due to a head injury?"

"Why was Jennifer on the plane?" Weyland persisted.

I answered, "She is your sister." We're all brothers and sisters in Christ, so why not?

The man frowned. "Then who was I trying to visit?"

"You have more than one sister," Golic suggested.

"And you just left her under a table?"

"It's not a heavy table," I said. "I believe it is her feeding time. Would you like to come see her?"

He did, so I led him around the debris field to the remains of the conference room.

"Weyland! Thank God!" Jen-Jen said from her diminished position on the ground. "The inmates have taken over the asylum! You have to get this under control!"

Weyland stared at her, then at me. "You say she's my sister?"

I nodded.

"Then why does she call me by my last name?"

"Well..."

Golic blurted, "She's your half sister."

Jen-Jen, seeming to understand the advantages of the situation, responded with, "Mike! I'm sorry, I think I'm getting light headed. I'm calling everybody by their last names. Could you please help me out?"

Weyland seemed a little suspicious, but he lifted the table off her anyway.

"Thank you!" she cried, hugging him. It was a very awkward hug. "I thought I'd never get out from under that thing!"

I offered her some fried monkey, telling her it was chicken.

After she'd eaten a few bites, though, Weyland told her what it really was.

"Christians aren't supposed to lie, you know," she said, licking her fingers.

"Would you have eaten it otherwise?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"I doubt it," Weyland said. "I just have this hunch."

Jen-Jen pulled a Sat Phone out of a smashed cabinet.

"Who are you calling?" Weyland asked as she set up the transmitter.

"I'm calling air support, what do you think I'm doing? Unless you really, really like living in this God forsaken jungle..."

"I don't think it's forsaken by God at all," I said. "In fact, it's rather quaint."

Jen-Jen rolled her eyes. "If it's just the same with you, I'd prefer not to get malaria or some incurable fungal infection you get from hanging out in this place."

She dialed a number, telling someone we needed "pigeon handlers" with "white gloves."

"I thought she was calling for air support," I said, but Weyland explained it was code for helicopters and a couple Hazmat units.

"Isn't pigeon poop white?"

"Maybe, but `Clean black gloves' is code for a tidy assassination."

"Let me know when your men arrive. I..." I realized that the less I said, the better. The moment the first helicopter came pounding noisily in, I needed to make myself scarce, and take my friends with me. "I'm going to go look for...survivors."

"I thought we found them all," Golic said.

I was referring, of course, to my newly discovered relative, but I didn't want to tell Weyland or any of his associates or they might try to stop me. "It's a big jungle. I know we haven't searched everywhere. If someone needs help..."

"Like your niece, perhaps?" Golic said.

I smacked my face with my claw. "Let's not be ridiculous. I was referring to the human passengers."

"I'll join you," Weyland said suddenly. "I'm not doing anything else."

"It could be dangerous. You saw those invisible creatures that hide out in the trees..."

He patted his pockets. "I have a gun."

He glanced at Jen-Jen. "Have you seen my gun?"

"Uh, no. Where did you have it last?"

Weyland leaned on a cabinet, appearing to be thinking about the question really hard. "I'm...not sure. I...blacked out."

"You should probably try to locate it before you go wandering off."

"That's a capital plan," I said. "In the meantime, I will begin the search. We can reconvene at a later time."

Like never, I thought.

"I'll help you look for the gun," Jen-Jen said, but as I was leaving... "Not so fast. Mike here may have had a memory lapse, but I-"

I didn't stay to hear the rest of it.

I ran out into the jungle, with my loyal companion close at my heel claws. "The freezers must have crashed somewhere. We only need to find them, and figure out how to thaw out Hissandra's child. With any luck, she may have already thawed out on her own."

"How did you know it's a she?" Golic asked.

I shook my head in disbelief. "I thought you, of all humans, would know how our reproductive systems work."

"My apologies, O Great One," Golic stammered. "I have forgotten. You are all females, yes?"

I nodded.

"I have so much to learn."

We marched along through the foliage for a good couple miles.

We chanced upon a large square object of white metal, but it turned out to be only a freezer for perishable goods, useful but not a place to find my niece. We continued on.

Noticing an ax hanging from Golic's belt, I questioned him about it.

"I found it on the ground, my Lord, along with this nice belt. It may be essential for the building of your great temple, your earthly dwelling!"

"Your perspective is skewed, but it is a fine idea."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He suddenly stopped, pointing at a clump of ferns. "My Lord, what is that?"

I looked.

In the daylight, I could see the glimmer of a metal object through the vines and creepers.

"This looks promising." I pushed my way through fern fronds and vines.

It was, in fact, a cryogenic facility. Rows of glass and metal cylinders stood upright in the dirt like tombstones, framed by smaller irregularly shaped refrigeration units, one of which containing Quana's empty shell.

The machines held corpses, mostly, the most efficient way to transport the dead without stinking up the place. I saw human soldiers that had been killed in our previous jungle excursion, and the dreadlock wearing beings that Sil had singlehandedly dispatched in the conflict.

When I saw the frozen creature in the middle, I gasped in shock.

She looked so much like Hissandra when she was younger that it startled me.

The defrosting mechanism was rather self explanatory, somewhat like a microwave in reverse. I tinkered with the temperature controls and timer, patiently waiting for it to return to `room temperature.'

The lid of the machine, although stubborn from the impact, cracked open, puffing cold fog as the refrigeration unit shut off, and coils like one would see inside a toaster warmed up, causing my niece to appear sweaty from the condensation.

After watching this take place for several breathless minutes, I suddenly noticed movement.

At last, the captive's once immobile form shivered and made human crying sounds, an involuntary nervous system response to cold, not an outbreak of human emotion, of course.

My niece stumbled out of the pod, shaking herself off as she stared at her surroundings in puzzlement. "W-where am I?"

I told her about the capture and the crash.

She sniffed me. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I nodded.

I gazed speechlessly. "Wow. You look so much like your mother. You're just beautiful."

I sniffed her, then, overwhelmed by emotion, I gave her a hug, coughing softly on her shoulder plates. "What is your name, child?"

"Ssunamrozedrah Semratusa."

"Last true child of the great mother," I muttered respectfully.

She nodded. "The Yautja call me Sakyizna, `Little Runt with Strong Nose.'"

I smiled.

"Mother transferred her memories to me before she died. You are a very strong willed human lover. You obsess about a thing called Jesus."

"Yes," I said with an emotional sneeze. "How is it that you arrived here? By what means did you come to this strange jungle?"

"It is a long story, aunt, one which I will gladly tell once we return to my companions. There is something I must ask you first. You were the last Kijdosaz, the last creature of my species, to see Grandmother alive. What happened to her?"

"She escaped the explosion and hitched a ride on two spaceships." I told her about Grandmother's visit to Fiorina 161 and her later imprisonment.

"That's terrible, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! We must rescue her!"

I shook my head. "We face a formidable enemy. The humans have imprisoned me for the majority of my childhood and adult life. I do not wish to go back to that again. I prefer to remain in this jungle, where I can live in freedom for the remainder of my days."

"I have allies, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. We can take Grandmother's prison by force."

"Nay," I sighed, staring at the ground. "You must understand, Ssunamrozedrah, my newfound freedom was hard won. It is not something I would endanger so readily. I have found what humans call `wide open spaces' and a liberality of movement I have heretofore never experienced. Right now, I am free, and content, without a care or worry. I commune with God in this lush tropical paradise..."

"And what of Grandmother? Do you have no regard for her freedom and liberality of movement? What of her contentment?"

I choked down a sob. "You truly are my sister's child, for you have cut me to the heart. But what are we to do? I have neither the weapons nor the tools to achieve such a lofty goal. I cannot reasonably hope to attain this in my lifetime. Such a thing is too wonderful for me to consider. I can only accept God's will, that it is not for me to have this kind of happiness, and be content with my current state."

"You flee with your tail between your legs, from an enemy that is weaker than you."

"What is your alternative?" I said.

"Have you seen my Oxpobitow?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "What is that?"

"It turns me invisible."

I shook my head. "I would not even know what one looks like...if it can even be seen."

"What about my Teklojore? It is a powerful weapon with a laser scope."

"No, I have not seen such a thing."

"A Ruxbojabi, then? A beacon with which to communicate with the rest of my clan?"

"No, sorry." I paused, contemplating her words. "Your clan is with the long haired invisible creatures?"

Ssunamrozedrah gave me a nod. "They are mighty and noble. I owe my life to them."

"A pity we have none of the tools of which you speak."

"There is still a way, Aunt Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. We will track down the clan with our olfactory senses. Once at their encampment, we will enlist their aid. They will know what to do."

I nodded. "Your plan fills me with great unease, but the goal is a noble one. I will accompany you and help in any way I can."

As we wove our way through the jungle flora, sniffing every which way, young Sharad dropped down from a tree in front of me, looking quite flustered and anxious. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Come quickly! Mother's about to lay!"

I and Ssunamrozedrah stared in puzzlement. "What?"

"Her egg is about to arrive! Hurry!"

Ssunamrozedrah gawked at me. "Who is Pillow?"

Sharad was already running off to join her mother.

"No time to explain," I said, giving chase.

By the time we reached Pillow, she was doubled over, huffing and puffing as she leaned on a luxury plane seat.

She really didn't have any medical assistants. She just had bystanders.

Jen-Jen and Weyland just stood there, Jennifer with Nathan and Quana in her arms, Weyland merely observing with detached interest like he'd watch any science experiment.

I watched Pillow doing her breathing exercises. "Shouldn't you be lying down?"

"Does your grandmother lie down when she lays?"

I frowned. "I...believe she does it standing up."

"Anyway, it's better for the spine to do it this way. I've had practice."

She straddled the seat, lifting her tail. "This should make an excellent cushion for the baby."

"So much for salvaging the chairs," Weyland muttered.

"Do you need...hot towels or water or something?" I asked.

"Already got it." Jen-Jen pointed to a mound of cloth in a nearby seat, gestured to the side of the airplane. "There's hot water boiling behind that wall."

"More exercise than she's had in days, I'm certain," Weyland muttered.

Jen-Jen opened her mouth, probably to say something nasty, then shut it again, more than likely due to him being her boss.

"Will you lay eggs like this one day, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Pillow asked me in a controlled gasp. "Like your grandmother?"

I stared at her. "I...I don't know."

"That's not fair," Jen-Jen said. "You can just pop them out without screaming. When I was in your stage of pregnancy, I couldn't even talk!"

"You were never in my stage of pregnancy," Pillow said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Gripping the headrest on the chair like she intended to tear it open with her fingernails, she let out a weird sound, like a chicken's squawking combined with a scream. "Oh God, Oh Ponai!" she cried in between involuntary squawks. Then, as she regained her senses, "Forgive my frivolous oaths, O Lord! It hurts!"

She made clucking sounds, squawked and screamed, then regained composure, resuming her breathing technique.

I watched with fascination as the egg descended from her interior.

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Ssunamrozedrah murmured.

I asked, "Have you ever seen human beings reproduce?"

The egg descended slowly, pushed out by the squirming tentacles of Pillow's reproductive organ's interior.

The Abreya squawked, and the egg emerged in a sheath of lubricating green slime, the action of her tentacles reminding me of a spider drawing a cocooned fly into its mouth, in reverse.

It appeared in mottled greens and browns and tans, like the shell of a tortoise, descending on an umbilical, a gentle, slow motion that made me think of a construction crane moving a steel I-beam into place on a building framework.

At last the egg settled on the cushion, the layer of the egg shakily turning around, lowering herself into a brooding position.

She raised the umbilical to her mouth, tearing through it with her teeth.

Jen-Jen emptied her stomach contents into a nearby bush.

A second later, a vomit covered monkey burst out with a horrified shriek, fleeing up a palm tree. We all laughed.

Once Pillow and her egg had been cleaned up with river water boiled and purified with special tablets, I glanced at my niece with concern, speaking to her in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "This female is a dear companion to me, but with this new egg, and her children, she is in no condition to travel with us."

Ssunamrozedrah sighed. "I too am partial to any creature that lays eggs like a Kijdosaz, but let us locate the clan first. Perhaps they can come back to retrieve her."

Pillow, being no stranger to our language, raised her hand in a sad little wave, speaking in like tongue. "Good luck."

That's when I heard the first pitter-pounding of helicopter wings, a squadron of Boeing Chinooks casting their weird dragonfly-like shadows upon the ground.

[0000]

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

[0000]

I rubbed Sil's finger marks out of my neck, catching my breath.

"Ellie!" Kamara shouted, running up to me. "What happened!"

"Are you all right?" Josh cried.

I stared down at Sil's lifeless body. "I'm fine. Not so sure about her."

Big Bird rushed to my fallen foe, pressing her hand to its neck. "I'm detecting a faint pulse. It appears she has gone into a state of hibernation."

A familiar black van rushed up alongside a nearby curb, Mr. Lennox, Mr. Arden, Mr. Smithson, Xavier and Laura racing out to join us.

"It worked!" Xavier exclaimed. "It actually worked!"

"Yes and no," said Kamara. "She's still alive."

The man grinned. "Marvelous, marvelous. Let's pick her up and take her to the airport."

As he was saying this, a red and yellow ambulance zoomed up to the intersection, a couple men in blue spandex EMS uniforms hopping out to examine their victim.

Indian and Chinese. They almost reminded me of Harold and Kumar.

Sil had reverted to her human form now. No questions were asked.

"She's uninsured," Xavier said as the paramedics checked Sil's vitals with a device. "She opted out due to religious reasons. Wiccan."

The EMT's hurriedly put away their tools, looking like they'd let you die if you didn't have an insurance plan, or something.

"Fuck," the Indian said while typing something on his arm. "Who's paying for the visit?"

Xavier answered, "I'd direct the charges to whoever called it in."

"What about the victim?" `Harold' asked. "Who's taking care of her?"

"It's against the law to leave her in the street," said `Kumar'.

Xavier waved dismissively. "Leave that to me. I'll have her back in the coven in no time."

The EMTs drove away in a hurry.

Xavier nodded to Big Bird, and the android slung Sil over her shoulder like a big bag of cheap dog food.

We returned to our vehicle, Big Bird and Press putting Sil's hands and feet into industrial strength handcuffs.

"Well," Press said. "Looks like my job here is done..."

"Let's not start discussing fees just yet," said Xavier. "We still need to get her to the containment facility."

My suitcase I found in the corner near the drink table. As I was getting situated, I noticed Nemo stepping up on the running board, looking around, Danjaboard and my dolls in hand.

"You're a very popular girl," Press muttered to me.

"I'm sorry," I told the kid. "You can't be in here. You need security clearance."

"That's not entirely accurate," Xavier said. "This little gentleman technically doesn't exist."

"I'm not sure I understand," said Smithson. "He looks real to me."

"He's a government pariah. A Reverse Indigo."

I gave him a blank look.

"There is a genetically favored caste of human beings called the Indigo Children. Children with specific genetic markers that get a free pass, the inside track to the best education, the best jobs in any career they choose, automatic membership into the Order of Ascended Lightbringers. It's said they have evolved above the rest of mankind, and are therefore given preferential treatment."

"And I'm not," Nemo said.

"There are strict rules about Indigo, but anyone can be its opposite, if you anger enough powerful individuals."

"There's still confidential government secrets," I said. "Stuff he's not supposed to know."

"It doesn't matter. All of America is basically required by law not to listen to him, or even acknowledge his existence. Ever. If he knows anything, he will literally not be able to share it with anyone."

"He has an Afexun account. Clearly someone is listening. What if he shares with someone who pretends not to hear, and claims he found our secrets on his own?"

"I won't," Nemo blurted. "You're the only people who don't give me the silent treatment."

I offered him a seat on the floor next to me and Josh.

"How did you guys get out of jail?" I asked Xavier.

"Police records are all on the internet, for anyone to see. Big Bird hacked the system, modified some records and had us all released on technicalities."

Press smirked. "America has become an `all the eggs in one basket' society. Convenience has its price."

I swallowed. "Has she done anything about my bootlegging charges?"

"I'm sorry about that," Nemo said. "I didn't know about the spying chip in the software."

I just shook my head.

"I was unable to modify the records," Big Bird answered. "Bootleg prosecution is handled by a contracted branch of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, on their own secure system, protected by a Sloan Intuition Firewall and Hyperdyne Security Suite Version 233. The system makes a sport out of unwriting invading artificial intelligences.

"It is easier to break into the Department of Cyberterrorism or the Department of Defense, both of which I only allude to for the purpose of dramatic exaggeration, to illustrate my current inability to successfully bypass EPCOT."

"So you're saying you can't get through their Mickey Mouse security," Josh joked.

Big Bird responded with a fake laugh. "What a knee slapper."

Josh screwed up his face. "Is that sarcasm?"

Big Bird frowned. "I do not know. I still do not fully comprehend the various degrees of human mirth, i.e. which deserves a chuckle as opposed to a hearty guffaw."

"You killed my joke," Josh muttered. "That's all I know."

Big Bird grinned. "Heh heh heh."

I asked Xavier, "Can you, I don't know, get another clone of me to take some of the heat?"

Press crossed his arms. "There's no need. We got Sil trussed up in the back, and you're going home. What's to worry about?"

Home, I thought. What a bitter irony that was! "It doesn't make sense. A DVD costs what, ten to twenty bucks? Even with inflation, you'd think there'd be a limit they can charge for one illegal showing."

"They have the country's best lawyers," Laura said. "You're not just paying for the film itself, you're paying the entire production staff for the perceived damages, emotional and physical, and for lost time."

"That's bullshit. It wasn't even a good movie. If anything, they deserve half of what I supposedly owe."

"I didn't say it was right, I was just explaining the rationale."

"How did they find us to begin with?"

Nemo rolled his eyes. "It's called `Tattleware.' They hire someone to place a tracking chip and camera override program inside a bootleg they've either confiscated or produced themselves, wait for the film to play to its completion, then raid the place. "

"That should be illegal."

Nemo only laughed bitterly. "I think some of my so-called friends have been bought out."

"The story about your mother's transplant," I said. "There's more to it than just that, isn't there?"

The boy sighed. "Probably. It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Our vehicle found an appropriate driving window, and we were rolling off to our programmed destination.

"Why is Sil suddenly so smart?" I asked Xavier. "She was talking to me in fluent English and everything."

The man shrugged. "She has access to a number of electronic learning tools. I shouldn't wonder if she's absorbed the information somehow."

"There's a program called Mr. Clucky," Press said. "It got pulled off the market after it taught a bunch of children to make explosives. You can still get it from some places in the underground."

I frowned. "I saw the news. Weyland was in that plane, right? That was an android at the press conference, wasn't it?"

"There's been an incident. I got word through a coded channel that we had mutineers at work on that flight, our magician and his alien friends, I believe."

"What happened?"

Xavier only shook his head. "That's all I know. The way I understand the situation, the people relaying the message were too busy trying not to die to go into great detail about the particulars."

"Diagnostic data from the E-485 indicates fuel line ruptures accompanied by a drastic change in course," Big Bird said.

"Maybe there will be something on MSNBC." Xavier turned on a video monitor.

The news showed a recording of smoke issuing from a jungle canopy. The poorly dressed announcers said the whereabouts of Yutani and crew were unknown, and that there had been "biological agents" and "toxic gas leakages" from the cargo the plane carried.

People in Hazmat suits hacked through foliage with machetes, checking parts of wrecked airplane.

Hoping to her from my alien friend, and maybe an explanation about the crash, I took my makeup compact out of my suitcase, but when I pressed down on the powder puff, the screen only turned white, like some sort of backlighting for my mirror. I sighed and put it away.

"The transmitter was on the plane," Xavier said.

"We're really on our own."

"Weyland is a survivor. I have confidence that the man will eventually find his way back to the island. We must be waiting there to meet him when he arrives."

I was still nervous about the whole thing. "What happens if those piracy guys show up at the airport?"

"They won't," Press answered.

"But what if they do? I still owe them money. Kamara, Josh and I could only give them fifty thousand each, and they still want more."

"Good God," Press groaned. "You actually paid them?"

"We put a cap on your allowances for this very reason," Xavier said.

They weren't making me feel any better. "I'm in big trouble. It wasn't my bootleg, but nobody believes me. Can't you please pay these guys off?"

"Damballah doesn't pay ransom to extortionists. Plus you're not the only ones with an allowance. We're all been given a spending cap of roughly fifty grand. Mr. Weyland and Mr. Yutani have to give verbal consent to release the additional funding."

"Don't worry," said Press. "You're going home. You won't have to worry about any of this anymore."

"I don't want to go home," I whimpered. "Can't I, um, go live with the Homeschoolers or something?"

"I don't think you want to do that," Xavier said. "Even if they do welcome you as one of their own (which I doubt highly), life in the towns may not be as comfortable as it was in your original home. It is a life of hardship."

I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Are you saying that I don't know hardship?"

He had no reply to that.

"Did those men mean all those terrible things they said? Do kids really...do sexual favors to repay their bootlegging fines?"

"Those fines are pretty pricey," Press said. "Let's just say you should never volunteer for a Disney internship. The cover story is the company rehabilitates video pirates with work study programs, like the Be Our Guest young butlers program, or the Magic Kingdom Young Arts Study, but few if any really qualify for any of those."

I cringed. "Any news about what happened to Mazda?"

"You mean like the car?"

"His whereabouts are still unknown, Ms. Ripley-Siebers," Big Bird said. "Police are still searching for his chip signature."

"God! That's a person's name?"

Big Bird told him about the missing child.

"That's...not good."

"No, it is not."

"Mazda wasn't even happy in that marriage," I said. "I was there. I know for a fact that he was forced into it. That should be against the law."

"You can't argue against the Supreme Court," said Nemo. "I should know. My dad was fighting against the Child Marriage ruling when it passed. The lobby is just as powerful as it was for gay marriage back in 2018, and you see how well that went."

"I don't get it. Weyland has money. Why can we not get more cooperation from the police?"

"Weyland has his own private police force," Xavier answered. "That isn't the same thing as bribing or owning the real one. He feels fairly confident that it is superior to the FBI."

I groaned. "Overconfident, you mean."

He shrugged. "You can say that."

"If my clone is in jail, where's Caitlyn?"

"Good question," said Press.

Big Bird marched to the back of the vehicle. "She is still playing NERV, violating security protocols, as usual."

She opened a hidden storage compartment along a wheel well, yanking the girl out by her ear.

"Oh c'mon!" Caitlyn yelped. "My cam isn't even on!"

Big Bird flipped some switches along the ceiling. "You use our own camera systems against us. Clever."

"You know the rules, kid," Press said. "No NERV playing in restricted areas."

Laura looked anxious. "How much have you...broadcasted already?"

"None," said the droid. "I heard the signal the moment I stepped in the vehicle, and took appropriate measures."

"What about those switches?" Caitlyn asked.

"Those are for the purpose of forwarding this exchange to Headquarters."

"Shit!" the girl shouted. "You just cost me five hundred dollars!"

"That much, huh?" Press laughed.

Xavier was not amused. "Your little game could have cost us dozens of human lives. Is that really worth a paltry five hundred?"

"C'mon. You're a piracy squad. No one's going to die if someone steals a couple copies of The Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars."

She received only humorless stares in response.

"You guys are serious!" Then, after a moment's thought, "This isn't really about bootlegging, is it?"

Everyone slowly shook their heads.

Xavier handed her a tablet computer and a stylus. "Sign here."

"What's this?" Caityln asked with bewilderment.

"Just your standard non-disclosure agreement, saying we can make things very unpleasant for you if you share any of our restricted information with outsiders."

"And what if I refuse?"

"Judging by the amount of time you've been spending in that little cubbyhole," Press said. "You already know too much about our little operation. We might have to find a nice little holding cell for you until we can figure out what to do with you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Press raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

Laura smirked a little, but otherwise seemed completely serious. "You'd better do what he says."

The girl swallowed hard, applying her signature to the tablet.

Then she looked into my eyes. "Do you really believe what you said? About Jesus and the Christian faith?"

I swallowed. "I didn't say anything about Jesus."

"No, no, you did. You did. You said that the reason why you left the Homeschoolers was because the bible is a work of fiction and you were tired of worshiping an imaginary person. If that's what you really believe, I have a lot of respect for that."

"I never said any of that!" I protested. "I love Jesus! Why would I ever say such a thing?"

Kamara gave me a warning look. "Ellie..."

"You were afraid of what Afexun would say," Caitlyn said. "Weren't you?"

I stared at Kamara, mouthing, "What the hell?"

My friend gave me a look that said, `Isn't it obvious?'

I snapped my attention back to Caitlyn. "You do realize that I have a twin sister, don't you?"

She looked troubled. "No. You said you had a multiple personality disorder, and sometimes you're a different person because of it...Speaking of which, how did you get out of jail?"

"Very carefully," I groaned.

"Why do you suddenly love Jesus? Did you mean that you love him like you love Hagrid in Harry Potter? You know, because Jesus is your favorite fictional character or something?"

I swallowed, staring at her uncomfortably. Kamara was mouthing no and shaking her head.

Too late. Caitlyn could read my body language.

"You don't really believe he's real, do you?"

"He's a historical figure," I said. "Of course I believe he's real!"

Caitlyn looked at me with an expression of concern, like I had contracted some terrible mental disease and I needed help. She didn't speak to me for the rest of the ride.

Nemo, however, looked impressed.

"Did one of you guys type up a horoscope about me dressing up to capture Sil?" I said to my team. "Or anything along those lines?"

"No," Xavier said. "I haven't texted you since I got arrested. Sometimes horoscopes are just horoscopes."

The airport rolled into view, a series of air strips, quonset huts, and rows of small planes and private jets.

Press took our vehicle off auto pilot, driving us across the tarmac to a Cessna Gulfstream, a rather futuristic one at that.

I suddenly noticed Sil stirring on the rear bunk.

Like a My Pet Monster doll, she snapped the chain holding her steel bracelets together, punching the glass out of the back window.

She was out and running down the asphalt before we even knew what had happened.

"Kid," Press urged. "Get out there and chase her down. I'll try to cut her off with the van."

Grabbing Nemo's Danjaboard, I jumped out, skating after her.

We were fast, but Sil was faster.

By the time I caught up with her, the engine of a Kenmore puddle jumper had already warmed up, the body cut loose from its moorings, propellers spinning at takeoff speed as it rolled down the strip on its runner wheels.

The van wasn't built for speed. Instead of passing in front of the plane, Press only managed to run neck and neck with it, resorting to ramming the plane sideways in attempts to slow it down.

The small prop aircraft rose higher in the air, preventing him from clipping its wings.

Press gave it a good bump, but the puddle jumper rammed him with its runners with such force that the van lifted up off its tires, rolling on its side with a noisy crunch.

A runner blade broke loose from one of its posts, dangling threateningly like a broken limb.

Planes of this kind are normally tied down to concrete weights, on rope.

These ropes, shredded, minus the concrete, dangled loose from the undersides of the wings.

I just barely caught the tail end of one of these as the plane rose higher into the air.

Hanging in midair from a single piece of rope, I felt like the weight in the bottom of a grandfather clock stuck inside a wind tunnel.

I gripped the rope for dear life, desperately attempting to pull myself up on the runners.

And then the plane's laser propulsion system kicked in.