Half an hour passed, and Sue hadn't pried her eyes from the TV for even a second. Despite needing badly to use the bathroom, she paid rapt attention to every new detail as it was revealed by a local news team.

"The top story this hour is, of course, the standoff in Manhattan," stated a news anchor with rabbit ears. "Not much is known about the causes, or the motives of those involved, as it seems that everyone who gets too close to the scene becomes possessed by the same anti-unicorn hysteria—everyone, including the teams from CNN and Fox News Channel."

Mr. Krantz strolled by, holding a comic book he had just finished laminating. "What are they saying now?" he asked the cat girl.

"Same old, same old," Sue replied without looking away. "Reporters go in, reporters get taken over. It's the sphere, I tell you. Nothing else could do this."

"It can't be the sphere," said the moose man. "They wouldn't use the sphere to turn everybody in New York against them."

"Yeah, it sounds crazy to me, too," said Sue. "If I was a unicorn and I had the sphere, I'd force the aliens to give up all their technological secrets."

"New York police estimate the mob is more than one hundred thousand strong," the reporter continued. "They estimate casualties in the dozens, as alien shock troops hold the mob at bay using advanced weapons. These soldiers are described as very tall, with long arms and round, glassy helmets covering their heads. There are unsubstantiated rumors that they wear helmets of this nature in order to hide their incredible ugliness. The National Enquirer has put up a $50,000 reward for the first person that sends them a photograph of one of these alien soldiers with the helmet off."

The telephone rang, and Mr. Krantz rushed to answer. "Yes, she's here," he told the party on the line. "I'll pass it on."

"Who is it, Dad?" Sue inquired.

"It's Alan," replied her adoptive father. "Professor Frink is at his house, and wants to talk to you."

"Tell him I'm on my way," said Sue, rising hastily.

"I don't need to spell out to you how calamitous this situation is," said Frink to the assembled throng, which consisted of Sue, Alan, Tegan, Arthur, D.W., Francine, Fern, George, and Sal. "The news media on Earth may not be able to provide us with a clear picture, but rest assured, the reporters who arrived with the alien diplomats are beaming detailed footage across the galaxy."

"Yeah, and I'll bet everybody's watching," added George. "If the Heath Holcombe murder was a big story, this will be Godzilla."

"That's terrible," lamented Tegan. "The whole Alliance will see us as murderous savages. We'll be shut out of the interplanetary community forever."

"Maybe that's what the unicorns want," Arthur theorized.

"Whatever it is they want," said Sue, "they're about to die for it, as soon as the Thrags run out of firepower."

"Wait," Francine chimed in. "I think I've got it. After World War II, many of the Jewish people settled in Israel to escape from persecution in their home countries. Maybe the unicorns are after the same thing—they want to be relocated to another planet, one they can call their own."

"That's silly," said Fern. "I've been to their underground city—I'd say they've got it pretty good. I can't imagine why Greta's parents are complaining about persecution now, because while I was visiting them, they didn't say a thing about the subject."

"Valid points, all," said Frink, "especially yours, Francine. If I were an impressionable Alliance citizen watching these events on my ultra-mega-3D-screen TV, my first impulse would be to write my congress-alien and ask for the unicorn people to be resettled on a more hospitable planet."

"But I don't want the unicorns to leave Earth," said D.W. sadly. "I love unicorns."

"Everybody loves unicorns, D.W.," said her brother. "They're cute, they're graceful, and you get three wishes if you steal one of their horns."

"Nobody wishes the unicorns harm," said Alan, "not even the X-Pets."

"I have no idea why they'd be unsatisfied with their lives on Earth," said Francine. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" said George.

"Unless," said the now ominous-sounding Francine, "they're running from something."

The kids quietly pondered her statement for a moment. Turning to Arthur, she asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What are you thinking, Francine?"

The monkey girl drew a deep breath. "Greta talked about something called Ragnarok—the final judgment, the destruction of the world. We assumed it was Dark Augusta, since she was on her way at the time. But maybe, just maybe, Ragnarok wasn't about her at all."

"You mean," said Arthur, a hint of fear in his voice, "Ragnarok may still be coming?"

Francine nodded. "But this time it's different. This time, the unicorns have the option of leaving the planet before the apocalypse hits."

"Fiddle-faddle and balderdash," said Frink mockingly. "According to my astrological calculations, by the time the apocalypse arrives you'll all be long dead—especially you, Fern."

"Especially me?" said the poodle girl anxiously. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't say anything," said Frink. "Now, then, to the matter at hand. Someone, or something, needs to sneak past the mob and the alien troops, get the sphere away from the unicorns, and destroy it, thus bringing this crisis to a satisfying conclusion."

"What about your robot, Ling?" Sue proposed.

"Ling's not up to the task," replied Frink. "She wouldn't last a second in the midst of all those people."

"There must be other robots," said George.

"There are," said Frink, "but none as sophisticated as Ling. The other robots are designed for special purposes, and have limited range—theme park robots, security robots, teaching robots, Matt Damon, and so on."

"But we can't send a person," Sue pointed out. "Nobody can get close to the sphere without falling under its spell."

"We could send D.W.," said Arthur jokingly. "I can just imagine her in New York, screaming 'Kill the unicorns!' until she loses her voice."

"I'd never do that," said his sister peevishly.

"The sphere doesn't work on the unicorns themselves," Francine observed. "But Greta's dead, and Van's gone back to the way he was."

An idea entered Sue's mind like a ton of bricks exploding. "Hold on a minute," she said to the others. "I know someone who just might be able to pull it off."

To be continued