Disclaimer: I don't own aliens. As usual any character in here is mine.

Chapter 11

The Team

Tom rubbed his head as he pulled himself off the floor. He looked around the room wondering how he had ended up sleeping there. He never slept on the floor. Then he remembered the night before. Jean appearing, their argument, her seeing the file on Anthony, and then him getting punched out.

He quickly leapt to his lab top and found that the page was now changed. Jean had apparently gone through it. Tom growled angrily at the violation of his privacy.

"What are you up to, Tom?" He turned to face Jean who had appeared behind him.

"You read the whole thing?" Tom asked.

"Um-hmm," she nodded. "I find it hard to believe, but I'm going with you."

"Going where?" Tom asked.

"I am going to that planet to look for Anthony," Jean said. "You are going to look, aren't you?"

"Of course!" Tom shouted. "But we don't need you along. You'd just be useless weight."

"Oh! Useless!" Jean retorted. "I'm a pilot, remember? I can fly us there and you won't have to pay me a thing. Just give me Anthony."

"You talk about him like he's some sort of possession," Tom said walking into the kitchen and opening a cupboard.

"I do not," Jean said stomping after him. "But you seem to."

"Me?" Tom turned and faced her holding a frying pan. "I only want what's best for him."

"Oh, sure you do," Jean retorted.

"Yes, I do," Tom threw the pan onto the stove. "And what are you so upset about? Anthony is still allowed to visit you. It's not like I have a restraining order against you, but you keep this up I'm liable to take one out against you."

"Tom, let me come," Jean said.

"Why?" Tom grabbed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator and cracked them dropping them into the pan.

"Because he is my son too," Jean said. "I'm not goanna abandon him!"

Tom turned back and met her eyes. Tom nodded. "All right, fine, if I can convince the president to let you come you can come."

Jean nodded and hurried out the door.

"You know you could have said 'thank you.'" Tom muttered as the door closed.

Tom glanced down his list of potential crewmembers. So far he had three people that had agreed to accompany him counting Jean. That is if someone didn't disagree with her coming. After all they probably already had their own pilot.

Tom got up from his seat and dialed the president's number. The screen flashed on as the president appeared.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"You know you didn't bother to leave me any instructions for telling you who I want coming with us," Tom said. "Makes me wonder if you even planned to let me go."

"Well, I figured you would be smart and relay that information to me," the president said. "Now, who have you got?"

"Rachel Terra, chemist," Tom began. "Phillip Masters--"

"Masters? He is a hired gun!"

"If you don't want to let me bring him, I'm sure the press would love to hear about," Tom said. "And besides he is a body guard for hire too."

"All right, who else?"

"Jean Leona, pilot."

The president shook his head. "No, we have a pilot."

"Well, you can always use one more," Tom replied.

"How does she even know about this?" the president asked suspiciously.

"My business is my business," Tom replied.

"Why would you do her any favors?" the president asked.

"My business is my business," Tom repeated.

"Fine, she can come," the president sighed. "I hate you."

"Hey, I didn't vote for you," Tom said. "Who's on your team?"

"Just a couple of no name scientist," the president said. "A squad of colonial marines-,"

"Who's in command?" Tom interrupted.

"Colonel Barket," the president said. Tom nodded thoughtfully. He would have to do an Internet search for that guy just to make sure he wouldn't be a problem. "We leave in two weeks."

Rachel Terra threw another shirt into the suitcase. Her daughter stood by the door watching. Rachel looked over at her and said. "Why don't you go out and play or something?"

Renee shook her head and said. "No, I don't feel like it."

"You feeling alright?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied somewhat bitterly.

Rachel shook her head. "I know what this is about and my answer is still no." Ever since she had agreed to Herrera's mission her daughter had been asking the same question over and over.

"C'mon this is a once in a life time opportunity," Renee said. Rachel placed her hands on her hips. "Well, for me it is."

"I know, but it's-," Rachel started.

"It's not that dangerous," Renee interrupted.

"How do you know?" Rachel almost shouted, but kept her voice normal. Her daughter's persistence was finally getting annoying. "Nobody knows what happened at that facility."

"I don't care," Renee said. "Isn't it my choice whether or not to go?"

"Yes, but you know it's futile to ask," Rachel replied exasperated.

"Well, then don't ask," Renee said.

"Do you know what you're asking me?" Rachel asked her.

"Yes, I do."

Rachel shook her head. That kid was certainly very persistent, a trait that she got from her father. Not that she knew that. Her father had died before she was a year old.

"All right, you can come," Rachel smiled. "Go pack."

Renee dashed off to her room.