Jim Bowie has a knife. Indiana Jones has a whip. James Bond has a gun. None of that is my style.

As helpful as the laser cutter had been for self defense, it would have been like lugging around the stone that killed Abel. I left the murder weapon on the floor.

I briefly considered cutting a message in the concrete, warning my family to stay away, but I doubted my sisters could read, and many so-called `universal symbols' really aren't.

The emergency corridor stretched on for several yards, splitting off into a side passage before continuing to a dead end.

I found a door along one wall before the split, but it only contained sanitation supplies.

I did, in fact, find a window, and for a moments gazed sadly out at the mountains, the rocks and boulders, the gravelly soil I used to play on.

I remembered the time Doug built a special motorized Frisbee for me to play fetch with. After I'd abused it a few times, it went haywire, and I ran further than he or anyone else in the lab had been comfortable with.

I'm almost positive I looked through the same window I'd run past that day.

Everything had changed now.

What would become of me now?

I could no longer call the lab my home. Would Sarah's family let me stay as a pet? Or would I be sent away?

If the latter, where would I go, now that I've shamed my family? Where would I get food?

Worried, I folded my claws for a moment in prayer.

My soul found comfort in the bible passage about God clothing the naked hungry birds with beautiful coats of edible flower petals.

The children, I thought. I must make sure they're truly safe.

I could only hope that mom and the others would remain trapped in the lab until the girls reunited with their parents, and maybe the military.

I hurried down a connecting passage, staring at the airlock at its far end.

Although brain damage had obscured my sense of smell with an ever present cinnamon odor, I felt certain the children's scent did not appear around the hatch, indicating they went elsewhere.

The unopened and locked spacesuit storage compartment nearby confirmed my suspicions. They probably would need to run to the other side of the base to grab suits their size anyway. This place hadn't been intended for children. Plus, I doubted they'd be crazy enough to wander the barren wasteland anyway.

I sniffed and caught their scent trail in the passage opposite, following it to a sliding door that opened with a simple button press. If I made so much noise earlier, I probably could have heard the sound of the door opening. I found it quite loud up close.

Beyond lay a wide landing with a runaround balcony overlooking a lower floor like a shopping mall.

The place looked rather naked and exposed, only tough on the exterior, like a turtle's soft underbelly. The large glass windows at crew quarters, for example, offered little or no protection, and let you see everything inside. The lounge area and the cafeteria didn't even have doors.

Others didn't have locks. Like a Ss'sik'chtokiwij candy store.

I didn't see any blood or bodies, but that told me nothing. If I could say one thing about mother, she was tidy.

I followed the girls' scents past a locked biology lab similar to mine, then a storage room and a power station, to the lounge, sniffing with care to make sure my smeller still worked properly.

Yes, there. I stuck my head in, staring into the the strange world I've seldom been privy to, except dimly through ventilator grating.

Sofas and recliners with aluminum frames, a wide screen video monitor playing Scarface in 3D, a pinball machine. Refrigerators, a bar, and a Ms. Pac Man machine. The smells of food and alcohol hung thickly in the air.

"Holy shit!" someone cried.

My sense of smell, distracted by my damaged brain fabricating odors of burning tires, hadn't detected the bony Japanese man in the gray jumpsuit behind the bar.

I waved. "(Thanks) Hi."

I gave him a formal bow, as an afterthought.

"What the hell are you doing out!"

"Doug is dead."

"Holy fuck!" he shouted. "You killed him!"

"No (Lord) no no no!" I raised my hands defensively. "It wasn't me! (Jesus)."

"Yeah, and I'm just supposed to believe you because you talk and play chess!"

He pulled a butcher knife out of a drawer. "Bet you lured him in by asking him to look up a bible passage. And I thought I hated Christians before!"

He brandished the shiny blade threateningly. "Where is he! I want to see the body!"

"I (yes), I wouldn't do that. My whole family (Mephibosheth), family is in there! They'll kill you!"

Under his breath, the man muttered, "Why the hell does it talk like that? Did somebody fuck up the probes?" He shook his head. "No matter..."

The stranger came closer with the blade. "I can't decide if I want to kill you now, or wait until you lead me to the body."

"Did (manna) I mention I have acid blood? You might get some on (maranatha), on you if you try it."

He stared at the blade, then at me.

"I am so fucked."

"I don't want to kill you And I'm not (perfect), not really sure why you believe me when I say he's (angel), he's dead when you won't believe the other things, but (manna) if you're smart, you'd get away (amen), away from this base as quickly as you possibly can, and (Lord) take the girls and their parents with you."

He swung the knife at me again. "Don't you dare touch those kids!"

"Mister..." I glanced at the man's name badge. "Fujicama (angel). I (Judas), I nearly died trying to save those children's lives."

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. I had rendered him speechless.

"Go back to (angel), back to earth. Take the (angel), take the kids with you."

He didn't reply.

I sniffed. The scent path hadn't stopped in that room, but arced back out. It seemed they had grabbed food, possibly a weapon, and returned to the mezzanine. The trail led me to the crew quarters.

How foolish, I thought. I only had to push a button to get in.

Crew quarters resembled a miniature hotel, rows of little doors set up along drab gray hallways, with couches and little computers along the window area.

I found the place unoccupied, possibly due to the staff being busy at work, gathering samples or being eaten by mom and the others.

Again, mom was tidy.

I followed the scent trail to a closed door near a stairwell, number M13. "Sarah?"

No response. My heat vision only gave an uninformative Rorschach pattern of red and orange. Likewise, my sense of smell said I was in an imaginary peanut factory.

I tried the door. Locked.

Not wanting to compromise security, I knocked.

No answer. Maybe she's not here, I thought.

"Knock three times on the (Jesus) the ceiling if you want me..." I sang. "Twice on the pipes..."

No response.

"Oh, I got friends in (fragrance) in locked places, where (Assyria) it's safe outside because my family's trapped inside the bio lab..."

I heard a click.

Turning the handle, I found myself in a cramped, spartan little room containing a pair of large futon beds and some storage compartments. For decoration they just had a poster of kittens and children's drawings. A damp smell from the corner indicated passage to a shower.

I shut the door with my tail, gazing at the small terrified figures.

"Have you seen daddy?" Sarah asked.

Rebecca, wide eyed, clutched her friend. "Or mine?"

I shook my head. "I only saw Mr. (hallelujah) Mr. Fujicama."

"You should lock the door."

Although doubtful of its effectiveness, I did what Sarah asked. "Is this your room, Rebecca?"

The girl shook her head. "No. It's Sarah's."

I seated myself next to them. "Do you have a plan (angel), plan for getting out of here?"

Both shook their heads.

"Once daddy is here, we can explain the situation." Sarah clenched and unclenched her fists. "Maybe he can get someone to send in the army or something."

I nodded. "Sounds (earthen), sounds good. Though (amen) I think it will take them a long time to cross space."

She looked more worried. "He'll figure something out, I'm sure."

I had never been allowed this close to Sarah. In fact, if I'd been seen bringing my face close enough to see the hairs on the back of her neck, it would have resulted in cattleprod action. But now, as I examined her up close, I noticed something a bit off.

Although partially obscured by curly hair, I spotted the edge of a series of blue symbols tattooed on her upper trapezius.

The faint, barely noticeable symbols had been there for quite some time. I pushed her hair aside to get a better look.

SB49045329, the tattoo read.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked.

"Honey, (shame), you've got (thanks), you've got something on your neck."

"What, like a bug?"

"No. (Jehoshaphat). You...(chair) have a tattoo. SB490 (hosanna) 45329. What's that about?"

She paled. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Honey, why don't you (angel) why don't you want to talk about it?"

"I got it in the dark place."

I stared at her in bewilderment. "Dark place?"

A tear rolled down her cheek. "Please. Don't make me talk about it."

Out of respect to her, I did not ask anything further on the subject.

Rebecca, seeming to be less frightened now, seated herself on the opposite side of me. "Where are your ears?"

I chuckled softly. "Don't worry (hello), worry about it, honey. I hear just fine without them."

She whispered into the side of my head. "My daddy says Sarah's mom was imprisoned in a slave colony, and when Sarah was old enough to walk, they gave her that tattoo on the back of her neck. Daddy says a lot of painful things happened to her while she was there, so her mind makes her forget. That's what the dark place is."

"Thanks (Judas), thanks for telling me," I muttered, then apologized for the insulting tic. "You're not a (angel) you're not a Judas, I didn't mean to say that." I hit myself in the head, as if it would fix everything.

Rebecca gave me a sad look. "It's okay. Todd in Chemistry has the same problem, except he cusses, or he says `oh' every other word."

"Thanks." I bared my teeth. "Does this look like I'm smiling?"

She frowned. "No."

"Still, you made (Judas) made me feel better."

Sarah still looked glum. Afraid, even.

"Are you (manna) are you okay?"

She only sighed.

I patted her on the back. "It's okay, Sarah. (Angel). No matter what (maranatha) what happened to you, I'm here for you."

Sarah tried to hug me, but then frowned. "You're not very soft. I feel like I'm hugging a giant cockroach."

She quickly added, "No offense."

No offense! I thought, feeling hurt. "I'm sorry. That's just how (amen) how God made me."

She seemed to understand my downcast head and my slumping shoulders, for she gave the hugging thing another try. "Can you even feel that?"

I put a chitinous arm around her. "Yes." A half truth.

I frowned at the door. "Sarah, how does your father (Judas), father know to meet us here?"

She pointed to an electrical outlet, where her phone hung from a cord. "I got it to work a little, but it's still charging."

I pointed to the door opposite the one I came in. "What's in there? (Chair). Behind that door?"

"That's the shower room. We all shower together in the same place. It's a little weird."

"Daddy said the plumbing is too expensive to do separately."

I looked inside. A long tile and concrete room, rows of pillars punctuated all around by shower nozzles. Toilet stalls stood at the far end.

Soft underbelly, I thought with disquiet as I closed the door.

We turned to face the door opposite, silently waiting for Mr. Hansen to show up.

Sarah handed me The Hobbit. "Can you read to me? You always did make the best Gollum."

Nodding, opened it up. "In a hole in the (Melchizedek) ground, there lived a Hobbit," I began.

"No, read it like Gollum is telling the story."

I chuckled. I was used to this. "Fine. In a hole in (Lot) the ground, precious, there lived a Hobbitses. A (hosanna) a mean, nasty Hobbitses..."

I had just finished reading the part where Gandalf gives his grumpy speech about having a `good morning' when the door clicked open.

Instinctively I flinched. My olfactory sense, still damaged, only fed me an illusionary turpentine odor, my heat vision a mere interesting lava lamp.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a bearded face in a gray jumpsuit entering the room.

"Daddy!" Sarah cried, running to him.

Rebecca grinned ear to ear. "Mr. Hansen!"

The man knelt and both girls wrapped their arms around him, blubbering almost incoherently about all the terrible things that had happened. I coughed with emotion as I watched this reunion.

I'd seen the way Mr. Hansen acted around people. Behind that intimidating bearded exterior and those sharp gray eyes lay a heart full of compassion and love. Here as in many times previous, he treated Rebecca like his own daughter, consoling her, kissing her on the cheek, just like one of his own.

Could he also welcome me?

Since I couldn't really smile without looking threatening, I opted for the happy canine approach, wagging my tail back and forth, thumping it on the floor for emphasis. "Hi, Mr. (God) Hi, Mr. Hansen!"

I padded forward, careful not to get too close and scare him. "I'm so happy you're here! (Jehoshaphat)!"

When the man looked up from the girls, all his warmth turned to ice. "What the hell is that thing doing outside!"