The immense section of the spacecraft rapidly descended.

I had no hope of surviving this. My first instinct: Pray, and hope that my death would be swift and relatively pain free. The mouse on my head seemed to be grunting prayers of its own.

I felt...precipitation. Moisture dotted the ground, but the droplets didn't look right...not water. Oil, perhaps? Sewage?

I took a quick glance upwards.

A curious thing, fluid dynamics. Water moves in strange, unpredictable ways. Within the falling chunk of Sulaco's hull, a mass of liquid, enough to fill a swimming pool, defied gravity, hanging upside down in the air.

Not outside the realm of scientific possibility, of course. If you fill a bucket with water and whirl it around in a circle really fast, the water stays put.

Didn't have but a second to wonder about this, for then the hull crashed down.

Considerable tonnage. Deafening amount of noise. Something heavy bashed me in the head, and everything went dark.

I awoke with my lungs full of water. I clawed pipes and the sides of large air scrubbers (ironically devoid of oxygen), banged my head into an overhang (no oxygen there!)

I thrashed forward, raking aside floating cargo containers, water bloated, unreadable books, greasy plastic bags full of liquid, wet carpeting, sodden clothing, laminated papers that failed the moisture test.

Lungs burning from inhaled water, I burst from the surface, sobbing and gasping for breath.

Never had time to properly familiarize myself with the layout of the Sulaco, therefore couldn't tell which end was up, or what they classified as `flooring,' especially with carpeting drifting free from its moorings. The modular design of the structure did not lend itself to any preferred alignment as, say, the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel would.

The fact that the compartment retained electricity, with its lights and mechanical equipment still humming on standby gave positive testimony to the humans' engineering skills.

I waded through waist deep water, among islands of steel and aluminum...cuboids, inside an L shaped chamber reminding me vaguely of the trash compactor from Star Wars. Grimy, poorly painted walls, like the insides of a garbage dumpster, feeble multicolored lights glaring from rusty utility boxes. Electrical cables sparked noisily from the ceiling.

The good news: Not dead, apparently. Also, being as only a section had fallen down, I could only presume that I would not need to navigate much to locate an exit.

Something hit the hull with earthquake force and thunderous noise. The ceiling held, but...

"Might take longer to get out of here than I originally estimated."

"Squeak!"

The mouse had somehow survived the ordeal, and now scampered from a drifting cargo crate to my spinal blades.

Like a miniature pirate climbing rigging on a schooner, the furry creature scaled my exoskeleton, perching on my shoulder plate. There it paused, making soft whiffling sounds.

"It seems at least one of our prayers got answered."

The mouse whiffled.

Certain regions of the compartment had never before had experienced such a thorough rinsing. Bits of black foam rubber washed out from deep crevices, accompanied by small bits of hardware, dead insects, and a drowned rodent (cousin of my new pet?).

A book drifted to me. The title: Created: The Destroyer. Something about a cop and a Korean martial arts master. I opened it up, but did not enjoy the experience of separating stuck together pages of a bloated, water dripping tome. I resigned it to its liquid saturated fate.

I did find the lack of water drainage a troubling concern. If there's an exit, why does the water level remain constant? I still had hopes of finding a stair, a ridge, or something similar to climb over to freedom, perhaps a door or a bath plug that would release the abundant gallons and possibly allow for egress.

Noisy banging and clanging filled the air, as if a vicious storm of golf ball to toaster sized hail had rolled through the area.

However, the objects that punched through the `roof' bore smoke and flame, and, upon dropping into the irregular `pool', emitted clouds of steam worthy of a blacksmith shop. At present, I felt grateful to have fallen beneath such a sturdy chunk of debris.

I considered resting there until the `hail' ran its course, but as I took a seat on an air conditioner, something crashed and dropped into the water with a sizzle. I got up, wading to a place with a thicker `ceiling' (I hoped).

As I waded around floating mattresses and a stainless steel kitchen counter (by the way, no, not the ship's kitchen, don't know how that food preparation table got to its current location), a computer screen attached to the...roof flickered to life. "...Yonsei to Sulaco. What is your status?" Couldn't get a good look at the person, due to the poor image quality, the static...and the upside down vantage point. He...seemed to be Asian, bony, with a shaven head. "...Sulaco, this is the Yonsei..."

At this point, the message got garbled by static interference, electronic noises, and, of course, water previously seeping into the equipment didn't help matters. The monitor kept sparking and going dark. "...We detected atomic...responding to your signal...missing...we are sending...reinforcements...missing...please clarify...respond immediately!"

I fastened my slulwidmi (climbing suckers) onto the wall, attempting to climb up and answer the person, but, with such a slippery wet surface, I had no suction, and fell into the drink with a splash. This set my little rodent friend into a squeaking frenzy as it jumped on my face.

I did a couple `basketball jumps' in attempts to reach the computer, or some overhanging object I could use to somehow...swing over there like a monkey, but by that time the signal got lost, the monitor appearing to be permanently darkened.

"So much for that. I hope Newt and her friends made it somewhere safe!"

The mouse whiffled at me.

The `hail' paused for a moment. Again, I attempted to rest, but the pounding and banging had only taken a brief reprieve.

Ca-chunk! An immense sheet of steel punched, guillotine-like, through the ceiling a foot in front of me. Fearful of this becoming a watery prison, I quickly dove past it.

I waded by a row of upside down combination washer-drier machines, the kind that didn't require the use of water. If this were the laundry room, I failed to understand how it received an emergency broadcast, but I suppose emergency devices should be available at any location.

Lightning flashed between some computerized equipment, small sparking bolts blasting a nearby monitor.

All the instrument panels and equipment turned dark where the lightning struck, as if affected by a small coronal mass ejection.

I thought this unusual enough on its own, and had already paused in fear of being electrocuted by a stray bolt, but then a creature's face filled the monitor.

A slimy, lopsided cyclops face, with a mouthful of lion's teeth. The more I stared at the thing, the more I doubted my sanity.

For one thing, it drooled, and the drool appeared to leak from the picture.

Even more astonishing, oozing tentacles emerged from the two dimensional surface, as if it had somehow become an open window to some hostile alien realm.

The monster's eyeball rolled around in demented fashion as it made funny moans and growling noises.

The creature appeared to look at me for a moment, gurgling and licking its lips, then lightning flashed once more, and it vanished from the screen.

I hesitated to move, as the bolt had traveled into a nearby block of machinery and traveled to parts unseen.

The mouse gave a questioning whiffle, as if wondering if we should move forward.

The thundering debris and rapid sagging of a roof support answered the question for us. I rushed past the machine, flinching as the aforementioned immense sheet of metal at last completed its descent, closing off the path behind me.

I discovered the reason for the `man-made lake': I did in fact, have a mountain of debris hemming in all that water...and...not a comfortable or easy method of exit. I could see outside through a few openings, but the gaps lacked adequate space for my body.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Falling spaceship chunks had just reduced my options to two narrow cracks.

I'd done it before, squeezing my body through a narrow crevice. My exoskeleton allowed me to compress my internal organs like a rat or a shark. I didn't like it then (nearly getting crushed by a robotic arm in a geothermal power plant), and I certainly didn't like it now.

I whispered prayers, then prepped myself further by making my breath slow and shallow.

I chose a horizontal crack, wiggling my head in sideways, inchworming the rest of myself through afterwards. The mouse abandoned me, scurrying outside.

I made good progress for about three feet, then my spinal blades got caught on something.

Don't panic, I told myself. Breathe slow. I wiggled sideways, forced my body to compress further.

And compress.

I got myself unsnagged somehow, crawled forward another yard.

A sunlit exterior...within sight. A cracked plain, illuminated by fires and an evening sun. Almost...there.

My head emerged from the wreckage, then my shoulders. The mouse whiffled at me from an overhanging shard of steel.

Arms...free. Chest...partway out.

Crump! A weighty block of debris dropped onto my lower torso, a sensation akin to a morbidly obese gorilla giving me a football tackle against the engine block of an automobile. Nothing broken, but I couldn't move...the weight...impossible to lift.

I sighed in frustration, staring up at the sky.

Clusters of brilliant stars shone down upon me. At first, I thought them a beautiful part of God's creation...but then they grew larger.

Shooting stars, then. Of course, as They Might Be Giants once stated, "A shooting star is not a star at all, a shooting star's a meteor that's headed for a fall." And "The friction as it falls through air produces heat and light."

More spaceship debris. And me unable to move.

In minutes, I would become decapitated, painfully punctured, fatally wounded, or crushed to a pulpy goo like a cockroach.

"Lord have mercy!"

[0000]

Quacebs Book 2, Part 5

[0000]

I pulled off on the shoulder and got to work. People nearly wrecked their cars on account of the costumes and weird physiology.

Quana and Dista watched in fascination as I jacked the car up, removed the damaged tire, and installed the donut.

"We need to get off the highway," Mom urged. "That tire isn't rated for highway driving."

"I agree, but I don't know how to get there any other way. At least, not any way that would take ten hours."

I must have argued with her for about five minutes, with my face getting more and more hot, before I noticed Quana rolling the old tire up to me. "I pulled that nail out of your inner wall and synthesized a patch from some Quiktrip cups and trash from your trunk. The rims are still good. You just need to inflate it, I think."

I stared at the tire. A white plastic patch, with a mangled Quiktrip logo. Me, Mom and Dad were skeptical at first, but the more we looked, the less we could tell that anything bad had ever happened to the tire...aside from the weird coloration and deflation. "Did you...use that thing you patched my pants with?"

"Guep. Yes. A little more challenging to patch something that receives so much nonstop wear and tear, but your trash will survive for centuries in a landfill. Honestly, your tire will break down before the patch does."

"Wow. If I knew you could do that, I would have helped you tow your totaled car to your house earlier."

"I can patch things, Matt. I can't do miracles...Unless Ponai says otherwise."

I installed the tire, inflated it to 35 PSI. The pressure held.

Camille kept scowling at the tire. "I'm still not sure about this."

"I know it's impossible, but it's not going flat."

Shaking her head, Mom got back in the car, looking up towing companies on her phone.

"That's a good idea," I muttered. "But let's wait a bit."

"Fine! It's your car!" Her facial expression, and red face, indicated it wasn't, but I also read `Let's get this show on the road.'

So...a good two hour delay, but we were on the road to Quana's place again. The patch held.

I took the usual route, down a boulevard, up a street that curved around a hill. We parked. "Here we are!"

Everyone got out.

"So where is this spaceship you're talking about?"

"It's in the pool out back. Right this way." I led them through the side gate, to the concrete decks surrounding the pool, where a holographic device provided the illusion of dirty water and a painted concrete pool bottom eight feet below.

Camille scoffed. "Is this a joke? It's got to be a joke, right? I can't believe I fell for this. You guys must have been planning this for months!"

I shook my head, pointing to the water. "The ship is down there. It's cloaked."

"Can't be good for the intake valves," said Dan. "Or whatever it is you've got there."

"The water isn't real." I reached deep into the illusion, pretend flinging water at them, touched my forearm to Camille's hand to emphasize the point.

Still confused, she knelt by the gutter, testing it herself. "That's...really strange."

Dan poked the hologram with his shoe. "Okay, I'll bite. How do we get down there? Just take the ladder?"

I nodded. "Yep."

Neither of them did. They found the illusion too convincing.

"Quana, did you shut off the alarm?" I asked.

"Guep." But then my fiancee paused in thought. "But just to make sure..." She pushed buttons on a small black object resembling a tongue depressor. The ship made a mechanical moaning sound. "I guess I was right to check."

"There's a remote?"

"One of the perks of legally obtaining a ship...and not being drunk." Quana climbed down the ladder, shutting the hologram off. She waved at them from the dirt hole.

"C'mon! It's a real ladder!"

My parents, too busy gawking at the spaceship, did not reply.

"That's really impressive," Camille whispered. "It must have cost a lot to make...whatever that is."

Dan didn't look so sure. "I think they've got something like this at Epcot Center."

"Well, it's down there..." I motioned to the ladder, but it was like dragging a stubborn horse. Sighing, I climbed down to wait with Quana in the dirt, staring up at them in frustration. Dista joined us.

After a long wait, the two climbed down the ladder, staring at the vehicle up close and muttering about fog machines as they wandered through the cold mist.

"This `ship' isn't going to mess up the phone's camera or anything, is it?" I think Dad was only slightly serious when he asked this. "Radioactivity? Electromagnetism? That kind of thing?"

"No, you saw Keith's pictures..."

Dad set about recording the exterior with the phone, snapping pictures of the guns. Mom needed a little help with her phone.

She cautiously crept to the side of the hull, raising her hand to touch it.

"I wouldn't do that," I warned. "It's dangerous."

Quana nodded. "You can touch the hatch. It's safer."

"I can't very well say it's real if there's things I'm not allowed to touch."

"Aren't you two Christian?" Quana asked.

"Yeah."

"Then where's your faith?"

Camille indignantly put her hands on her hips. "Look, missy! Being a Christian doesn't mean I've been born yesterday!"

I sighed. "Fine. Go ahead. Burn yourself."

"Would you assume that a jet engine turbine isn't real because you're not allowed to stick your hand in? Or that a helicopter blade is fake because you can't touch it while it's spinning?"

"No, but you can touch it when the engine is off."

"Well, we can't really shut this off too easily."

"It's got to cool down somehow." Camille put her hand to the hull, then yelped, jerking back and waving her hand.

"Told you so."

Camille shook her head, glaring at Quana for a minute.

"Guess I had it coming." Sighing, she continued taking pictures.

Quana opened the ship, gesturing for them to enter.

Dan and Camille followed her up the ramp, photographing everything they saw.

"You might want to save some space for anything else you might see later."

Camille kept clicking pictures.

"Or don't. It's your camera."

I followed them onboard after them.

"What else do you got?"

"Oh, a few things." Quana showed them the kitchen, the bathroom, and other rooms on the ship. The two silently stared at their surroundings. More pictures got taken.

Camille wrinkled her nose. "This place smells like epoxy."

Quana rolled her eyes. "It's a floral scent."

Dad slowly got adjusted to the weird situation, his interest waning somewhat. "I thought aliens were supposed to look like pale little white guys with big heads and huge eyes."

Matt shook his head. "I haven't seen anything like that on Pathilon."

"Have you seen any...blue aliens?"

"The next thing you'll be asking is why I don't have a fiber optic ponytail and long arms and legs like Frankenstein," Quana sighed. "Movies tend to stretch the truth a little."

"You mean there's truth to that one?"

"Professor Morgan, Matt's professor, used to have a friend in the English department. They got a little too close, and she told him a little too much. Praise Ponai he got the details wrong when he went to Hollywood."

Quana led them to the cockpit, showing them the pilot chairs with the hand and tail operated steering controls. She didn't bother activating the wall monitors, so with all the blank space it looked like the middle of a big cue ball.

"Can we take it for a ride?" Dan asked.

"Um, sure. I think we can do a small flight."

After overcoming some squeamishness, Dan and Camille seated themselves in the wiggling plant chair positioned at the rear of the chamber. They fumbled with the restraints for a long time before Quana came over and fastened them correctly.

"All right. Just let me attach the Bariafu." Quana left the room.

"What's a Bariafu?"

"It makes the hologram of the pool. It's a cloaking device."

Mom let out a nervous laugh. "Well, this place is certainly unique." She stared around quietly for a moment, and nobody said anything. "Do they come in different colors?"

"Not sure. This is the only one I've been in."

"Seems a little drab. Does she care much for interior decorating?...Or painting?"

"Uh...I haven't really thought to ask."

"Might look nice in a fuchsia."

"I wouldn't think she'd want to paint in here, at any rate. These walls are computer screens."

The entry hatch in the other room hissed shut.

Quana marched back in. "Ready to go?"

Dad remarked, "No, I think I'll just sit in this weird harness thing for an hour. Of course we're ready."

I got in the copilot's seat, feeding my tail through a slot in the back. Dista took the control chair behind me.

Quana hopped into the chair across from me and grinned. "Would you like to have some driving practice, Captain Matt?"

I blushed at her reference to the Starfleet costume I wore to speech class. "Um, that's all right."

"Suit yourself!"

Quana rolled the track ball on her armrest and the ship took off.

As we rose out of the pool and swung around the house, Mom laughed and clapped her hands. "Wow! That's neat!"

As we zipped over the trees, watching the neighborhood pass by underneath, my stomach flip-flopped. I could no longer view the world like I used to. The I-435 interstate seemed more and more like just a lot of concrete made by a foreign civilization, the vehicles like alien glass and metal monsters, their importance almost irrelevant to me. This wasn't going to be my world for very much longer.

The fatigued expression on Dista's face...it made me think of European Vacation. `There's Big Ben again.'

The ship swung over a railway and a UPS distribution center, over the Metcalf shopping district.

Dad frowned at the monitors. "Out of curiosity, if this is real, how do you manage to navigate through U.S. airspace without getting caught?"

Dista understood none of this.

"You make it sound like the air is property." Quana grinned, using her tail to push back on the steering wheel behind her chair with her tail. "Your government has developed methods of visual concealment for tanks and other structures. Ours are more efficient and can fool radar and other devices."

Camille shifted in the plant chair. "This is a nice little airplane. It's pretty comfortable."

"Thank you."

I gazed back at my adopted mother, reflecting how little I'd be seeing her after this.

Camille smiled at me seemingly oblivious.

We flew over a low brick building. Camille pointed. "Oh! There's the school we teach at."

"Is that like college?" Dista asked.

Camille chuckled. "No, not quite. Highschool. And the kids can be quite a handful...What...kind of schools do you have where you come from?"

"Ucsoz, Latsoc, Ivalvi, Xeamwa, and Sarpuh. We start young, and go to school frequently, for very long days. A common expression is, `It is very strange to see Kaybok, or it is very strange to see the sun.' The economic rankings are similar, wealth and poverty, so some do not go to school or fall out halfway through the program. Some live in rural areas and don't go through much."

My fiancee glanced at her sadly, the expression on her face...wealthy person's guilt.

She flew Supica over The Plaza, over Westport, then the casinos and the amusement park. "Hmmm..." She pushed on the controls, flying them over highways in cattle country.

Camille wrinkled her brow. "Where are you taking us?"

"Saint Louis."

Mom laughed. "Sure. Why not. It looks like we're flying over everything fast enough!"

I absently tapped my armrest. "You know, Quana, it might actually be a good idea to let them look around in Saint Louis. You know, to sorta show them that this isn't a fancy projection screen."

"Um..." Quana stared at the treeline in front of her. "I don't know if there's anywhere to park."

"Can we...park under the Missouri river?"

Quana shook her head. "This isn't a submarine, Dan."

"You hid under a pool, didn't you?"

I shook my head and chuckled.

"That wasn't real water."

"Can't you...beam us down?"

"Not without destroying whatever they're trying to transport."

"This isn't Star Trek. I don't have anything like that...Unless you count an emergency ladder."

"That might work!"

"You'd still look strange climbing out of the air. I'll take you by the arch, but it's too crowded. I can't risk people finding the ship."

"Or maybe you can't risk seeing that we're still in your swimming pool!"

"I think I know of a good compromise..." Quana rolled a track ball controller to the left. "I'll show you the place I hid my ship a few years ago."

The ship zoomed onward.

"It's certainly a nice machine you've got here," Mom said. "The view is just incredible...Whatever it really is!"

"Thanks. It belongs to my reem, er, my mother."

"It's certainly fancy," Dad agreed. "If it's not alien, I'd say it's the best aircraft I've seen in a long time...either that, or the best set design."

"So how did you get to living in that house to begin with?"

"I hid Supica in a forest, and that camp, and spent long hours walking from place to place until I found a good location. Eventually I found this one." Quana hovered over a thickly wooded place several yards from a freeway and a rocky section of road cuts.

"Hey, this is out by the firefighter's memorial, isn't it?"

"Yes." She took them to a hatch, lowering a ladder.

Camille stared down in apprehension. "That...definitely looks like...where it's supposed to be...Or at least a wooded area."

Dan knelt down, poking his head through the opening. Wind blew in his face. He jumped back suddenly, eyes bugging out. "Good Lord! This thing is actually in the air!"

Quana grinned. "Want to go down there and take a look?"

Dan gave a nervous laugh. "Nooo thank you!"

Snickering, Quana retracted the ladder, and they returned to the cockpit.

Kansas City buzzed by beneath us. In no time we were settling into the pool again.

"Can...this thing play DVD's?" Dad asked.

"Sure. I have devices that can scan any recordable format, though LP's and Victorola disks are tricky."

"Remind me to bring my eight tracks!" He laughed. "I'd like to see what you can do with that!"

"Sounds like a fun project." She helped the two out of their restraints, leading them to a plant couch in the main room. "Have a seat!"

Camille frowned at the wiggling tentacles of the other couch. She seemed to dislike sitting in that particular type of furniture. "That's okay. We really should get going."

"You sure you don't want a movie or a snack?"

"Well," Dad put his hand on an earth recliner. "I suppose we could."

"This is some setup you've got here. Ever thought of opening a theme park or a hotel?"

I chuckled. "I don't think that will happen."

My parents seemed at a loss for words, possibly because they took my story more seriously. Camille took a few more pictures of the ship and its exterior.

Quana put the previous night's football game on, and Dan sat contentedly watching the recording, larger than life.

Dista smiled and sat next to him, discussing what she saw. She still didn't have a handle on the scoring and points system.

Meanwhile, Mom and Quana chatted with each other. A lot of obvious stuff about earth and Pathilon. Tired of standing around, I joined Dan on the couch.

"So...Did you get to meet Darth Vader?"

I was beginning to dislike science fiction. "Nope. No E.T., no Klingons, no Daleks, it's not like the movies."

"But you got a new job, right?"

"Yeah..."

"That's good. I didn't expect you to work at that store forever." Dad chuckled. "You know, if this is all a big hoax, it's a good one. I want to see the movie when it comes out...So, you're going to be gone a long time, then? In space?"

"Uh-huh."

"Think you can come back by July 4th?"

"I don't know. I'd like to. I'll definitely try to make it. I definitely want to come back before the end of the year."

"Good...You know, I've been telling you that if you need to move out of state to get a better job, I'm okay with that. Didn't know you'd take it this far, but I'm still okay with it."

"So you don't mind me moving off planet, then, I take it."

Dan nodded. "I wouldn't want to ruin your career."

"Thanks, dad."

"Matt," Camille called. "Come over here."

Noting her serious expression, I swallowed, hurrying to join the two women.

"You're absolutely serious about marrying this girl?"

My face flushed red. "Yes, mom."

"You got enough money to pay for everything?"

"Ummm..."

"Are you offering?" Quana's eager expression indicated she was serious.

Mom forced a laugh, gave a fake smile. "Well, (ahem) supposing we couldn't, would you...have enough on your own?"

"My mother is the queen of Bencap. And plus, Matt's going to get a really great job, so I think we have that part covered."

Camille sighed in relief. "That's good to hear."

"Of course, we don't have anything set up or scheduled yet...so if we need to postpone, we can."

Mom visibly relaxed. "Will you be living in separate places until then?"

"It's a good idea," Quana agreed. "In case something doesn't work."

I reluctantly nodded, disturbed by the inconvenience rather than anything else.

Camille looked down and frowned. "Quana dear, you're wearing your engagement ring on the wrong hand. It goes on the left."

My fiancee turned a bit green. "Sorry." She quickly slipped it onto the other hand.

I gave mom a sheepish grin. "Oops. I didn't know."

Mom turned to face the couch. "Dan?"

The man tilted his head up. "Huh?"

"Dan?"

Dad really didn't want to get up. "Yes, dear?"

"Come over here."

He slowly ambled to his feet, glancing at Camille in annoyance. "I...can guess where this is going."

"He's very serious about this wedding."

I cleared my throat. "Like I said, me and Quana believe the same things, we have the same goals, we risked a lot for each other. I really wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with her."

"Well...If that's what you really want, I guess I won't stand in your way. You got enough money to pull this off?"

"We were just telling Mom how Quana's mother, and my new job will probably be enough. And we can cut corners if we have to. I really don't want to place any burdens on you guys."

Dad rubbed his chin, lost in thought. "What do you think, Camille?"

Although Mom seemed reluctant, my fiancee was positively glowing with enthusiasm...And I got to grinning when she looked at me. Mom noticed this. "I...think she's a nice Christian girl. I guess I wouldn't mind having her as a daughter-in-law."

"But we don't really know that much about her yet. That's the trouble. I feel like we should get to know a bit more before we go ahead with this."

"You really think so? I mean, it's his marriage."

"What do you suggest? If we find something wrong with the family, he'll thank us, won't he?"

Quana's face turned a deep green. "Are you wanting to visit my planet or something?"

I stared at Dad. "Can you spare a couple weeks?" Then, catching Quana's expression..."Maybe more than a couple?"

Dad glanced at Mom. "I don't know. I got things to do."

Mom gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, so do I."

"Hmmm...that's really too bad."

"Why? What was your plan?"

"Oh? I was...kinda hoping you two could come to her planet so you could get to know Quana's family better."

Mom cast Dad a nervous look. "Dan..."

Dad sighed. "Oh, all right. I suppose we could request some time off or something. How long are we going to be gone?"

I and Quana stared at each other for a moment, smirking a the nervous dread and excitement in each other's faces. "Roughly...three to four weeks? It takes a week to get back and forth."

Dad frowned and cleared his throat. "I...suppose this is important enough to merit the time."

Camille nodded. "When are we leaving?"

"Anytime. As soon as possible. What would be a good time for you?"

I'd seen that `no' on Dad's face enough times to guess it wouldn't be today. "...Give us at least...a week to pack and put in a time request at work."

"We also have to get someone to take care of Candy for a few days, and pack."

I thought about the ordeal I had when I took my trip. "You guys should bring some food, too. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dry goods, just in case. They don't have much in the way of human food where we're going."

Camille, not being a science fiction buff, had difficulty accepting the concept. "There's...no food there?"

"Well, it's weird food. You might not like it. Like bugs and escargot."

She took a deep breath. "I see. Guess we're going grocery shopping, Dan."

"Hmmm."

Camille snickered. "You know, Quana, I always nicknamed Matt `Fuzzy.' Now he actually is fuzzy!"

I returned to the sofa.

Quana settled in beside me. "If I were a Maqbuh right now," she muttered in Wava, "I'd be burning up."

I screwed up my face. "What?"

"Um..." Her cheeks flushed green. "It's what Abreya females say when they really need to slow down and wait for the wedding day."

I chuckled, getting hot around the ears. "What other cute little sayings do you have?"

Quana gave me a playful jab to the chest. "I'll tell you after we get married." She scooted away from me, putting her hands across her lap.

She took a deep breath, staring at the wall. "I have stilled myself like a hatchling," she whispered in Wava.

I leaned closer. "What's that?"

"It's a...psalm of purity." She scooted a bit further away.

"Oh." He grinned a little.

Mom cleared her throat. "Let's go out to lunch. My treat."

My stomach rumbled. "Where to?"

Quana looked relieved to have a distraction. "Chinese!"

"I don't really feel like Chinese," said Dan.

She frowned. "Italian?"

"No, that's too expensive. How about Mexican?"

"Hmmm...I think we do have a place nearby."

"We'll do Chinese tomorrow," I muttered to my fiancee. To my parents: "Should we go?"

Camille nodded, but then paused a moment. "We need to invite Keith. I'd like to discuss this wedding with him over lunch. He's part of the family too."

It did seem like a good idea..."Yeah, but he's working at the Smirk Prime hub right now. You can't just drop what you're doing and take off."

"Doesn't he get an hour lunch?"

She had a point.

Mom called him, describing our little meeting. "One forty five. And we're going to Dos Cornejos because it's it's close to Smirk Prime. We'll meet over there and he can drive us home."

"Won't that make him late getting back?"

"He's got an hour lunch."

I suspected this had something to do with my patched tire, but didn't complain. We waited.

Dan sat back on the couch, staring at the screen. "Got any chips?"

"Sorry," said Quana. "I've mostly got alien food. You want some Zufa legs?"

"Oh hell, why not? I imagine I'll be eating plenty of...that during our trip!"

I laughed. Like father, like son...Well, in Keith's case, anyway. "I guess I'd better go change."

With all the alien changes to my body, human clothing didn't feel so comfortable anymore. It's really awkward to wear briefs when you've got a big opossum tail, and of course the baggy jeans and long sleeved shirt...super hot and uncomfortable. But that's what you have to do to look normal.

When I got out of the bathroom, Quana had put Doctor Phil on the monitors. She still had the football game still going on the other screens, which made things kind of noisy.

"Quana, do you have earphones or something?" Dan complained as he munched alien insect legs.

"No, sorry. But one of you could watch in the other room."

Camille agreed, so Quana took her to the cockpit to watch the show in there.

The command chairs hadn't been designed for lounging, so Camille sat in the plant couch again. I didn't know this, but you could unfurl giant leaves to form sort of a footstool/Ottoman, or a headrest.

When the show went to commercial, Quana asked Camille more stuff about her life and culture. It's shameful, but I learned more about Mom during those moments than I have in several years of living with her.

As the show came back, Quana watched for a few moments, asking questions about what the program meant, then she left the room to chat with Dan. Mom's program ended, and she joined us in the main room.

We left Quana 's house around 1:30, but ended up arriving at the restaurant late. Just as well, because Keith also arrived late. He didn't have someone to relieve him from his post right away, so management made him wait to leave.

Dos Cornejos, a glass and brick building, stood in a shopping center. Sort of a cross between Taco Bell and fine authentic Mexican. Corporate architecture with sterile mass produced south of the border kitsch.

Our server put two tables together for us. We ordered drinks and looked at the menu.

The enchiladas were uninspired, but had more complexity than the average mound of wrapped taco meat at other places.

"So, ah...Quana," Dan said in between mouthfuls of rice. "What other kinds of foods do you have on your planet?"

My fiancee gnawed on the stem of a chile relleno. "Bub Tig, Burrap, Zufa, Igwat Zacad, Blimro..."

"Anything you recommend?"

"Well, I'm partial to Bub Tig, but it's probably not up to your taste. You're probably better off with Zux Leem and Muloyi."

"I don't know, he's got some pretty odd tastes to begin with," Keith joked. "He has no taste buds."

Quana grinned at my dad. "What's the strangest thing you've eaten?"

"That's a toughie, but I'd say goat brains were one of the stranger things."

"I've had some of those. They're all right. They remind me of Buhakzum."

Keith asked Dista for her phone number. This caused confusion at first, with neither Keith nor Dista knowing what to do with their phones or communicator, but Quana set something up on her phone where they could use the same number, you just had to push 2 to reach Dista 's communicator.

The texting part...they couldn't quite figure out how to split that without her actually buying a new phone.

"We'll just have to share text messages. don't send anything you don't want me to see."

Dista smirked. "Gip'm."

Dista and Quana spent a long time chatting with my family about various things, their favorite subjects, about entertainment, cooking, society, race relations, the weather, and quite a bit about earth weddings.

Keith checked his phone. "Guys, it's been a blast, but it's time to go."

Mom paid the bill.

Dad stood up. "I suppose we've got to start packing. You know how it is, standing at the front door and nobody's ready."

I chuckled. I knew my trip to space was missing something.

"We'll meet up with you later." Mom hugged me, probably would have done the same for Quana, but...kind of an awkward situation, as she wasn't yet a daughter in law.

All three of them left.

"Your parents seem really nice," Quana said.

"Yeah. They are." I sighed and stretched. "So, want to go see a movie or something?"

"I don't understand what's so great about watching movies on dates. It's something I don't understand about your culture."

I frowned. "You're right. But what do you want to do?"

"How about the zoo?"

I winced. "I was just in one."

Quana gave me a look that said `so'?

"I don't know. I don't think I'll think the same about zoos ever again."

"This would be different."

I looked in her eyes. She really wanted to see the place. "I...suppose I need to face my fears eventually..."

"No one's forcing you."

"I know. I guess I can't let my past experiences control my life. Let's go."

"How much does the zoo cost?"

"Ten or twenty bucks, I guess. You paying? I'm broke."

Quana squeezed my hand. "Don't worry about it."

As we walked out to the car, I felt a shooting pain between my legs, like someone just stabbed me in the crotch with a rusty knife. I doubled over.

Quana leaned over me, putting her arm around my shoulder. "Matt! Are you okay?"

"Ow! I...don't—" I let out a shout, gingerly seating myself on the sidewalk.

She knelt beside me as I moaned in agony. "What is it, Matt? What's wrong?"

I glanced at her worried facial expression with annoyance. Although nice to have someone care about me like this, I couldn't bring myself to verbalize what I was going through. Just thinking about what to say made my face hot with embarrassment. "It's...nothing. Nothing."

"It's not nothing. You're in pain. What's wrong?"

I sighed in frustration. "Quana, this is a...man's...problem, okay?"

She swallowed. "Too private to tell me?"

I nodded. "Look, just let me to go the bathroom real quick."

"If it's bad, do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"What, and get dragged down to Area 51 to have someone dissect me? No thanks!"

Quana appeared to be fighting down mirth.

I hurried to the restaurant's restroom, locking myself in a stall.

I'll spare you the disgusting details. Suffice to say, I...had growths down there. Some kind of skin cocoon. And it hurt when I tried to remove it.

I knew it wasn't right, but the last thing I wanted to do was see my family practitioner about it. I really, really hoped I wouldn't have to `go' anytime soon.

I awkwardly waddled back outside, where Quana sat on the hood of my car, looking even more worried than before.

"Is...it...okay?" Quana asked me.

I swallowed a lump. "I'm... not comfortable talking to you about this. Let's...just go to the zoo."

She frowned. "Matt, if we're going to get married, there's going to have to be more communication. Married couples...speak to each other about private things...it's...intimacy."

"Even if it's gross?"

I caught a glimmer of reluctance in her facial expression. "Let me...phrase it this way: Would you consider it a medical emergency?"

I gulped. "Ummm...kinda?" Quana opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "Look, earth hospitals are not equipped to treat this kind of personal problem, okay?...And...I probably won't die from it."

Her face flushed green. "Is..something wrong with your wumloq?"

I wrinkled my brow in puzzlement. "What's a wumloq?"

"Matt...Male Abreyas have a certain organ on their body that—"

I didn't let her finish. I got the idea. "Yeah. It's something like that. I...don't know what it is, I just know...I shouldn't have it...down there."

Quana sucked in her breath. "Maybe we should pass on the zoo today and...just let you rest a bit until this...clears up or heals."

I stood up. With this new...mutation, sitting was the last thing I wanted to do. "I'm...okay. It's fine. Let's go."

"You sure?"

I cast her a nervous glance.