Jose struggled to control the car as he raced down the dirt lane, almost skidding off the road in several places. The fact that it was dusk, one of the most difficult times for people to see properly, wasn't helping. Paul crawled to the front and pulled himself into the passenger seat.

"You've been shot!" Jose said, almost sliding into a ditch again. The blood on the side of Paul's left leg was frightening.

"You're very perceptive," Paul snapped, as if he didn't feel a thing. "Try not to kill us, all right! Get us back onto a big road with lots of people, you idiot! Are you just driving in a straight line because you can't think?"

With his hands shaking uncontrollably, Jose tried to do as Paul instructed.

 

Carson's hands were shaking uncontrollably as he gripped the wheel. "Oh, man! Oh, man!" Carson paused to pant for a few seconds, shaking his head. Then he said it again. "Oh, man!"

In the back seat of Carson's cab, Devon leaned over, as if in exhaustion, and rested her forehead on Alonzo's shoulder. "How many times has he said, 'Oh, man?'"

"Forty-three," Zero calmly replied.

"Oh, man!"

"Forty-four."

Carson exited I-25 and made a wide right turn, crossing the center line and barely missing a dark SUV coming the other way which also crossed the center line. "Watch where you're going, doofus!" Carson yelled into his closed window as they passed. The others held on for dear life.

 

"Idiot cab driver!" Paul screamed uselessly as Jose barely missed the taxi and turned onto the highway.

 

"So, oh, man, you guys gotta tell me," Carson raved. "About the future. You gotta tell me."

"Carson, please," Devon implored him. "Not now. We really are in some serious trouble, and we need your help."

"But you can talk while I drive, can't you?"

"Carson," Danziger said, "there's lots of stuff that we can't tell you. We'll try to satisfy your curiosity as best as we can later, but right now, we just need you to concentrate on driving. Please?"

"Yeah, okay," he nodded. There was silence in cab for a few seconds, then Carson just shook his head and said, "Oh, man."

Devon groaned.

 

Carson parked along the edge of the dirt road which ran by the side of Maria's house, a few dozen meters behind it. They could see a couple of officers investigating the shed in the back yard.

The Edenites got out and watched as Carson opened the trunk and pulled out a pen, pad of paper and an oddly-shaped black box with a bulb on top. Devon suddenly realized she was looking at a camera.

"All right, John and Alonzo, I think you two should stay here," Carson said. "Devon and I will act as reporters for my newsletter. Two reporters will be odd enough, but four would just be too weird.

They all glanced at each other and shrugged. "Okay," Devon said, "what do I do?"

"You take some pictures, have a look around, ask any questions you want," Carson said, handing her the camera. "It's supposed to be a free country, so don't let them tell you that they can't say anything, all right?"

Devon hefted the camera in her hands, not even sure how she was supposed to hold it, much less use it. She just looked up at Carson and shook her head.

"Oh, geeze, don't you guys have cameras in the future?" he asked.

"I've seen one of these, once," Devon said. "In a museum when I was a little girl."

Carson took the camera and handed her the pad. "I assume you know how to use a pen and paper?"

"That I do," Devon answered.

"Also, tell everyone who asks that we work for the Free World Journal," Carson said as they walked to the front of Maria's house. "It sounds more respectable than ALIEN. I've found that people don't like to talk to a reporter who works for a rag called ALIEN, so I always say Free World Journal. Say it, okay? I don't want you to get it wrong."

"The Free World Journal," Devon repeated. "The Free World Journal."

"That's it."

"Strange," Devon said. "That sounds so manipulative, but you don't strike me as a manipulator, really."

"It's not manipulation, it's just common sense," Carson replied.

"Just like it was common sense for you to get me away from my two male companions so you could have a crack at me?" There was no accusation in her voice, but Carson could tell she didn't approve.

"Devon, I'd take any chance to have a pretty lady like you by my side," Carson replied with a smile. It wasn't a mean smile, just cheerful. "But I wanted you as my assistant instead of John or Alonzo because people respond subconsciously to a man and a woman a lot more easily than to two men. Women are less threatening and prettier to look at, and most of the officers we'll be dealing with will probably be male. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

Devon just nodded in appreciation, marveling at Carson's ready knowledge of people. She didn't know if it was true, but it sure sounded good. She realized that while Carson was ignorant of some things, he was actually quite intelligent in his own way.

"So what if the officers ask why someone from the Free World Journal is here at all?" Devon asked.

"The police report said that the man hiding in the back yard was a sickly-looking brown all over, like he was covered with dirt and mud. That's just strange enough to qualify as ALIEN material. But it won't matter, because none of these guys will have heard of the Free World Journal, anyway."

"Is that good or bad?"

Carson shrugged, and they strolled up to the front porch. An ambulance, a New Mexico state patrol car, a Santa Fe police car, and one ordinary car were in front of the house or parked in the drive. A group of concerned neighbors stood in the street. The ambulance drivers, a short blonde woman and a dark-haired man, were heading for their vehicle at a leisurely pace across the front lawn.

"They didn't need you guys here after all?" Carson asked amiably.

"Nah, no one's hurt," the man answered. "Poor woman's just scared, that's all."

"Any idea what she saw?" Devon asked, trying to sound like a reporter, yet keeping the casual, friendly tone that Carson had adopted.

"Nope," the woman answered. "But it sure sounds weird. They got all the info in there." She motioned towards the house with her head. Carson nodded his thanks and approached the front door.

"Free World Journal," Devon said, nodding to the officer who stood in the doorway, noting that his name tag read "Jenkins." "Would it be possible to ask a few questions?"

"What do you want to know?" Jenkins asked.

"Could you tell me what happened here tonight?"

"I don't know if they're finished with the investigations in there or not," he said. "It's not usually my place to give press releases. Sometimes we have security issues." He didn't move. Behind them, the ambulance drove away and another car drove up to take its place.

"Would it possible for you to check?" Devon asked. "We'd be happy to wait." Two car doors opened and closed.

Jenkins thought for a second. "Yeah, let me check. Wait right here, okay?" Then he looked up at the two newcomers walking towards him, and his face broke into a smile. "Hey, Alan, what are you doing here, buddy? You're not supposed to be working on your vacation! You desk-jockeys shouldn't be at crime scenes, anyway."

Devon and Carson turned to find a man and a woman walking across the lawn, then tried to fade into the side of the front porch as the two men greeted each other.

"Well, I only live half a mile away," Alan said. "Stacy called me up, told me a wild man was hanging out in people's back yards, so I thought I'd come see what was up. This is my sister, Evelyn, she's also on vacation, here for our family reunion. She works for the FBI."

"Oh, the big time," Jenkins said, shaking her hand.

"We just thought we'd come offer any help we could," Alan said. "Find out if there was some kook in the neighborhood we needed to know about."

They seemed to take into account Devon and Carson, standing like a couple of bricks beside them. Jenkins said, "These are a couple of reporters, from, ah, where?"

"The Free World Journal," Carson said, and grinned manically at Evelyn. "FBI, huh? Cool." He grinned some more. "I watch X-Files."

Evelyn gave him a tight smile. "Don't we all," she said politely.

There was silence for just a split second, then Alan asked Jenkins, "So is your partner here?"

"Yeah, he's right inside," Jenkins said. "I think he's still talking to the woman."

"Okay, thanks," Alan replied, and he and his sister stepped into the house.

Jenkins turned back to Carson and Devon. "Listen, I don't think now's a good time. If you want, you can come down to the station tomorrow or Monday and get copies of the statements."

Carson considered for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." He and Devon left.

"What a complete waste!" Carson muttered when they were out of earshot of Jenkins.

"You surprise me," Devon said. "I thought for sure you'd start arguing to be let in."

"I thought about it," Carson replied. "But I have to take each situation as it comes. Sometimes it pays to argue and sometimes it doesn't. I felt just then that we'd have a better chance in the long run if we didn't make a fuss. Besides, most people are all too willing to talk when they get the chance, because people are always looking for avenues of expressing themselves, so if we come back to talk to the woman later when there aren't any police, I think we'll have better luck."

As he spoke, another car pulled up and a man got out. They looked back briefly to see who it was, and Carson stiffened. "That's Ralph Edwards, a beat reporter for the Santa Fe New Mexican," he said. Carson stopped to tie and re-tie his shoe so he and Devon could observe what happened when Ralph met officer Jenkins at the door. After a few pleasant words of familiarity, Ralph was allowed inside.

"You see that?" Carson fumed quietly. "You see that? They'll let him in but not us! Those scumbags."

Devon didn't reply, but accompanied Carson back to the cab where they told the others what had happened. They all agreed to come back the next day to talk to the woman who lived there.

They climbed into the cab and Carson asked, "Any special requests?"

"A place to bathe and a place to sleep, in that order," Danziger said tiredly. "We just watched our second straight sunset without any sunrise in between."

"Do, ah, you people have any changes of clothes, or anything?"

"No," Devon said. "We arrived here with nothing but what we're wearing."

"I'm wondering what we should do about what you got on," Carson said. "I mean, you can shower at my place, but I don't have a washing machine and all the laundromats are closed by now, and not to be impolite, but you guys smell a little and you got a healthy amount of dirt on you. You'll need something different to put on later."

"Do you have anything?" Devon asked, feeling awful for asking Carson for yet more help. And she knew they would be asking him for even more over the next few days.

"Sure, I always keep spare clothes in all sizes for any weird people from the future I might come across," Carson said. "No, I don't. So I think we need to go shopping before we go home."

Devon said, "But we don't have-"

"You can get a job at Burger King and pay me back if it bothers you," Carson said. "But I own this cab, so I don't pay a daily fee like a lot of the other saps who get sucked into being a cabby and then can't get out of it. I got a little money to spare. So let's go get you people some more clothes."

As he drove back to Santa Fe, Devon skillfully prevented Carson from asking them questions by getting him to rant for a bit about his jealousy of other reporters. (She knew perfectly well that Carson wasn't the only one who could manipulate.) So the Edenites got an earful about Ralph Edwards, and about the yokels up at KOB-TV, Santa Fe's NBC affiliate. When Carson was finished with them, he launched into a diatribe about the Santa Fe city council. By the time they reached the department store, they knew more about local politics than they had ever wanted.

The large white sign which greeted them as they stepped out of the cab read, "Shop Smart. Shop S-Mart!" One bulb on the right side of the sign flickered valiantly, but it was obviously breathing its last.

"All right, for now I got enough for one shirt and shorts or pants each, plus several pairs of underwear and other stuff," Carson said. "I'll be waiting at the front of the store. Get whatever you need."

When they came back half an hour later with their selections, they found that Carson had picked up some snack food and extra toilet paper. While Carson paid for their purchases, Devon screamed silently to herself, "In the future, I'm a multi-billionaire!"

As they hit the road again, Carson said, "Well, I know you guys are having a bad time, but it's actually nice that you're staying with me. I get to have company, but at the same time I know that you won't be drinking any of my Coke. That's the best of both worlds, right there. It really is."

Not knowing any better, they couldn't disagree.

 

Jose meekly brought the antiseptic to Paul, glancing with terror at the strange brown creature with the silver collar crouched in the middle of his living room. Paul had his pants off at the dining room table. He took the antiseptic without a word and applied it to his shotgun wound, which looked ghastly. But he apparently didn't feel a thing. He could have been applying suntan lotion for all the emotion he displayed.

"What are you?" Jose asked.

"Your master and king," Paul replied. "The one you'll obey."

Jose turned to regard the strange creature. He felt like he was in a nightmare. "And what is that?" he whispered.

"That is my ticket to fortune," Paul said. "I've decided that it's also my amusement." He strapped on his gear, keyed a command, and said, "Charge."

Jose just about jumped out of his skin when the creature emitted a high-pitched trill as the collar bristled with electricity. It slumped its shoulders again. Despite its inhumanness, Jose could swear he saw despair and fatigue in the creature.

Paul shocked him again, laughing, but then appeared to tire of the game. He took off his gear set without deactivating it and set it on the table. "You know, I'm wondering what I should call my pet Terrian."

"Terrian?" Jose asked.

"Yeah, I can't keep calling it 'Hey you,' can I?" Paul asked, staring at the wall. "I gotta give it a name. Russell? No, not Russell. Brian? Brian..." he mused thoughtfully. "Yeah, Brian. I'll call my pet Terrian 'Brian.' Where do you keep your guns?" he asked abruptly.

"What?" Jose asked, still shaken by what he'd just seen and caught off guard even more by the sudden change in topic.

"Your guns," Paul repeated. "Where do you keep them?"

Jose gave a slight shake of his head. "I...I don't have any guns. I never bothered."

Paul was startled. "Are you lying to me?"

"No!" Jose said hastily. "I don't own any! I never saw the need. I'm not a hunter, and this isn't a big crime city."

Paul sat back in his chair with a look of disgust. "But guns are fun," he said sourly, sounding like a little child. "Well, that just means we get to go shopping tomorrow."

Jose hesitated for a second. "You mean...shopping for a gun?"

"Yeeeesssssss," Paul said, as if he were speaking to someone who was stupid.

"But...but any shop which sells guns won't be open. Tomorrow's Sunday."

"What?" Paul screeched, leaping out of his chair.

Jose just shrugged. "S-Mart used to sell guns, but they stopped. They would have been the only gun-sellers open on Sunday. Everyone else will be closed."

"But Monday's the big day!" Paul screeched. "I need to be ready by Monday!"

Jose just shrugged, baffled by this display of childish ranting.

Paul calmed down a bit and began pacing slowly. "But the event isn't until Monday afternoon, so if I get a gun Monday morning, everything should be fine."

Jose gulped once, knowing Paul wasn't going to like the next bit. "You can't get it when you walk in. You have to fill out an application and wait three days. It's the law. It helps to keep crazy people and felons from buying them." Like you, Jose thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. He also decided not to tell Paul that if he could find a gun show that weekend, he could buy whatever he wanted with no questions asked. That seemed like a really good fact to withhold.

Paul stood rooted to the carpet as his face turned several shades of purple. "That's," he finally ground out, "not...fair!"

Jose had to bite his tongue to keep from replying, "Tough shit." Paul's manner was comical, but he couldn't afford to forget that the man was superhuman and deadly.

Paul breathed hard and forced himself to calm down. "Fine," he said. "I'll come up with a way." He turned to the Terrian and said, "In the garage, Brian. Through there. Move it, or you'll get a charge."

Brian rose and silently walked through the kitchen and into the garage. Paul closed the door and locked it. "I'm going to bed," he said. "I'm tired."

"You, uh, want me to pull out the bed from the couch?" Jose asked. He did have a spare bedroom which had once belonged to his daughter, but the thought of Paul setting foot inside the room of his child, much less sleeping there, filled him with horror.

But Paul had other ideas. "I don't care where you sleep. I'm taking the master bedroom." He snatched his gear set petulantly from the dining room table, grabbed his pants and stalked up the stairs.

Jose could only watch him go, then turned to look fearfully at the door leading to the garage.

 

"Here it is, home sweet home," Carson said.

The Edenites walked in to find a small house, obviously well lived in. It wasn't filthy, but it wasn't too neat, either. Most of what they saw was paper. Stacks of government reports, books, newspapers from around the world, and computer printouts were everywhere.

Carson stowed his small bag of groceries and said, "Bathroom's down the hall and to the right. I've only got one shower." He plopped himself on the couch and said with a grin, "So what can you guys tell me about the future? Come on, you promised! I'm dying to know."

"First in the shower," Alonzo said and ran to the bathroom with his new clothes, leaving Devon and Danziger to deal with Carson.

"You know, Carson, I'm not sure it would be a good idea to tell you anything," Devon said diplomatically. "I mean, you couldn't go back to the Middle Ages and tell them about this time, could you?"

Carson squirmed, trying desperately to come up with an answer to that. "Well, no," he said. "But...can't you tell me something? At least tell me what to invest in. Or tell me if there's gonna be a war soon so I can stay clear of it." He suddenly sat forward. "Is the government covering up alien contact? You must know in another 200 years!"

Devon and Danziger looked at each other. "I'm sorry, Carson, I really am," Devon said, "but I can't really say. I think it would be a terrible idea. I'm...I'm really sorry we got you involved in all this."

"Oh, that's okay," Carson said. He was dejected, but he could see their point. "Could I at least play with that gear set thing some more? That was awesome!"

"Yeah, knock yourself out," Danziger said, tossing his to him.

"Does it have any games?"

"Tons." Devon showed him how to access them, and Carson happily retired to his bedroom for the night.

Devon laid her head back on the couch and sighed with relief. "I haven't slept in forever," she said.

"I haven't slept in negative 200 years," Danziger said with a yawn.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the running water and Alonzo's attempt at singing. After a while the water shut off, and a few minutes later Alonzo came out. Danziger busted out laughing.

"What?" Alonzo asked.

"It's those shorts, man," Danziger said. "I haven't seen legs that white in a long time."

"Yeah, well, yours won't look any prettier," Alonzo replied, tossing the towel right onto Danziger's face. "It's shower time, mister mechanic."

 

After they had all showered they still couldn't sleep, despite their exhaustion. Too much had happened to them that day, too much that needed talking about. Zero informed them that he was making progress on the decryption, but had nothing more at the moment.

They sat and talked for a while on the patio, which opened onto the living room from a sliding door. The night was warm and peaceful, the sky dotted with stars. Alonzo, sensing perhaps that Devon and Danziger needed to talk, or perhaps just wanting to be alone himself, eventually stepped inside and sat on the couch. He set Zero's head beside him and picked up the remote control, looking at it. The commands etched onto the surface made it clear that this was for the television set. He turned it on, and the screen slowly flared to life.

"First we sprinkle a little flour on the chicken."

He changed the channel. Click.

"Live from New York, it's Saturday Niiiiiiiiiiiiight!"

Click.

"The snow leopards of Siberia are among the world's most rarely-photographed animals."

Click.

"Shields, Mr. Chakotay."

"Aye, Captain."

Click.

"Come away with me, Karen. Leave Jason!"

"But Jagger, what about Brenda? You know she won't leave you alone."

Click.

"Sunday nights are for aliens here on the Sci-Fi Channel. First, it's Alien Nation, followed by Ear-"

Click.

"And with two innings left, it's the Texas Rangers leading the Yankees, five runs to four."

Click.

"Is it just me, or is Watts really hot?"

"Bear!"

"Yes?"

"Do we have a problem?"

"No."

"'Cause I'm trying to describe how these DATs keep your ass on the ground. So if I were to kick you-"

Click.

"Hey hey, we're the Monkees!"

Click.

"Congressional Republicans today blocked legislation which would have closed the loophole of allowing people to buy guns at gun shows without background checks, even after all the promises which Congress delivered in the wake of the Columbine High School shootings."

Click.

"Scully, we can't go to just anyone about what we've discovered."

Click.

"I love you! You love me! We're one happy family!"

Click.

"I have something to say. It's better to burn out than to fade away!"

Click.

"Tune in Wednesday night to see who gets voted off the island."

Click.

"Nyaaaaah, I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque."

Click. Alonzo turned the TV off. He stared at it for a long moment. "What am I gonna do?" he finally whispered to the dark screen. It had been so alive and so full of color, but it couldn't talk back to him and answer his questions.

"About what?" Zero asked.

Alonzo had forgotten the robot was there. "About everything," he answered. "About this freak who wants to erase us from existence. About being stuck here in the past. About never seeing Julia again. I feel like I'm losing my head, Zero."

"You should talk," Zero replied.

Alonzo grimaced. "I'm being serious, Zero. I don't know what to do. I feel..." He breathed once, very deeply. "I feel just like I did after we crashed. Fate threw me a change in my life that I wasn't expecting. It was too huge for me to cope with. It was sudden. One moment I'm a pilot getting ready to drop cargo and return to Earth, the next moment I'm a colonist with a broken leg on a stretcher. I couldn't cope, Zero. I didn't cope. I...I've never really gotten over the embarrassment of that. I almost killed myself, you know." Alonzo's face was screwed up in confusion, as if he were analyzing the thoughts of a different person. "I actually tried to do it," he whispered. "I actually once tried to kill myself."

"You're not thinking of doing it again, are you?" Zero asked.

"No," Alonzo shook his head. "But Zero, that awful quirk of fate which ripped me out of the sky and planted me in the ground turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. If someone had told me that when it happened, I would have hit 'em. I really would have. But now I know that I wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

Zero was silent. Perhaps he didn't know what to say. Perhaps the robot hadn't a clue what Alonzo was talking about. But at this point, Alonzo didn't care.

"And my big fear is that perhaps there was some design at work, there," he continued. "Maybe some higher power knew what I needed more than I knew myself, and led me to the place that I needed to be." Alonzo shook his head in confusion. "But the crash also killed people, so I can't believe that's right. I can't figure it out. All I know is that it was awful, and then it turned into something wonderful. And now, here I am, once again ripped out of the environment I call home and stuck somewhere else, with no way back that I know of. It's awful. Does that mean that this will also turn into something wonderful?"

"Why is that a fear?" Zero asked.

"Well, the first time it happened, it taught me how ignorant I am," Alonzo replied. "How ignorant we all are, really. It's so easy for a person to be in a certain place and think they're happy, when they're really not. That crash taught me how little I know about what my own needs are, and about what would make me happy and what wouldn't. I mean, you'd think that I would know what would make me happy, but I didn't have a clue.

"After the crash, all I wanted to do was go back to being a pilot. I couldn't. And now, all I want to do is return to Julia. I can't. Does that mean that I'm going to grow to love it here and that all the love I shared with Julia will turn out to be some kind of situation where I realize I wasn't happy at all, and I just thought I was? I feel like I can't trust my own emotions, any more." He looked down at Zero. "That's what I'm afraid of. Even more than not getting back to Julia, I'm afraid that I'll wake up one morning and see the time I spent with her as just a thing I went through. If that happened, Zero, I would be so lost."

"I don't know what to say," Zero replied. "I understand what you're saying, but I can't really relate. I follow my programming, and that's all the purpose I need."

Alonzo smiled, just briefly. "I wish it were that simple," he whispered. Then he looked down at Zero's head. "What are we gonna do here, in this time?"

"Well, for a start, we could become television studio producers and make better programs," Zero replied.

Alonzo nodded. "That we could." He reached over to turn on the radio and found a station which played some nice 20th-century music. He set Zero on a table and laid down on the couch. Moments later, he was asleep.

 

"Something's bothering me," Devon said.

"Just one thing?" Danziger asked.

They were sitting on green plastic chairs around a small green plastic table which Carson had evidently thought would look nice on his patio, looking up at the stars. The sliding door was open slightly, and they had heard Alonzo speak with Zero briefly, although they hadn't heard what he'd said. Now music from the radio filtered through. It sounded nice. Occasionally a car swished down the street.

"Since we've arrived, you haven't really shown much fear about being stuck here," Devon said.

Danziger stiffened ever so slightly and looked at the table, trying to appear unknowing, and Devon knew that she'd hit the nail right on the head.

He shrugged. "I'm afraid, yeah. There hasn't been any time to show it. We've been busy trying to survive since we arrived."

She shook her head. "That's not it. If I didn't know you, I wouldn't see it. But after hiking across a planet with someone for two years, you get to know them really well. And the John Danziger I know would be taking off the head of everyone around him at the thought of never seeing True again. But you're not doing, that. You haven't even mentioned True once."

"Maybe I don't want to think about it," Danziger said, trying to sound gruff and failing miserably. "Maybe I've stuffed it deep down inside."

"You couldn't stuff an emotion if someone handed you written instructions," Devon protested. "So what do you know that I don't?"

Danziger shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing he'd been found out and that he couldn't do anything now to get out of it. Did he have the right to withhold information from Devon? Conversely, did he have the right to offer her false hope? How could he tell her that the Terrians had once sent him back in time with a strand of Uly's DNA to ensure Devon became pregnant, setting all the events of the colonization of G889 in motion retroactively? He hadn't understood it, and he'd certainly never told anyone.

He chose his words with care. "Devon...as far as I know, you've never told anyone who Uly's father was."

Devon's eyebrows shot up into her hair. Talk about unexpected twists in the conversation! she thought. "No," she answered quietly. "I haven't. What's that got to do with anything?" It was her turn to be nervous now.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pry," Danziger said. "I just said that to make a point. You see, we all have our personal sides. And right now, you're really asking me about something deeply personal." He gave her a meaningful look, and his deep voice rumbled softly. "Please don't."

Devon thought quickly. (Why did she feel like she was suddenly fighting him?) "I'm not sure I would keep personal things personal if it meant helping to restore the lives of my friends."

This time it was Danziger's turn for his eyebrows to rocket skyward. "Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What about Shepard?"

Devon flinched, and Danziger knew that had cut her. But his mouth plowed on. "Or the missing biochip in your brain that the rest of us have, or the cause of your sudden illness when we had to put you in cryosleep for a day?"

"Those were different," she said, her voice shaking.

"If you say so," Danziger said.

"Yes, I say so," she insisted. "You're being unfair, calling up examples that don't really compare. I don't think they make your point. Now John Danziger, if you know something which can help us, please, please, I'm begging you." He was startled to find tears spring to her eyes, and her lip quivered, ever so slightly. "Please, let me know. Just give me some kind of reassurance, anything, that we can get back."

He leaned forward and took her hand in his, sighing deeply. "Devon, listen to me. I want you to listen close, and I don't want you to try to get anything more out of me than what I'm about to tell you, because it won't happen. It will never happen. Do you understand? I'll walk away from you and destroy any relationship we might have before that happens."

Devon looked into his eyes and knew that he meant it. She nodded.

Danziger took a deep breath. "Sometime during our journey, I won't tell you when, the Terrians called upon me to perform a task for them. It was a task I didn't want to do because I didn't trust them. No one else knew about it. They didn't ask anyone else. They just asked me. This task involved sending me through a spider tunnel, somehow, back in time. And, somehow, through space."

Devon listened with rapt attention.

"They sent me back to the space stations to the time just before we left."

By fudging slightly about the time to which he had been returned, he hoped to mislead Devon's thoughts, because he could already see her brain turning these facts over and trying to fit them into her worldview with lightning speed. If he had told her "eight years before we left," she would have taken less than a minute to put two and two together and come up with Ulysses.

He had to be very careful, here.

"Now, I'm not going to tell you what the Terrians wanted me to do," he said quietly. "That will remain a secret to my grave. But I can tell you that they were able to open up a spider tunnel for me to return to G889 when my task was completed."

Devon's mind was whirling. "So it can be done," she whispered.

Danziger shrugged. "I don't know, Devon. In that case, the Terrians knew where and when I was. I was acting on their behalf. Here, we're on our own, and the Terrians might not have any idea where we are, or care about getting us back. I didn't want to give you false hopes, because I can't guarantee anything."

"The Terrian," Devon whispered. "The one that came through with Paul. It might be able to help us."

Danziger nodded. "That's what I'm basing my hopes on."

Devon's face tilted to one side in anger and disbelief. "And you kept this to yourself, knowing that Alonzo and I are dying inside?"

Danziger just shrugged. "Devon...I...I didn't really think about it."

"Well you should have!"

"Oh, come on, cut me some slack!" he said. "You wanted me to divulge something so delicate, that I..." he foundered, lost for words.

Devon looked at him strangely. "It had to do with me, didn't it?"

Danziger just shook his head. "Devon, I can't say."

She looked deep into his eyes, his face, but they remained blank. Poker-face blank. Only then did she remember that John had a small reputation among the ops crew for being able to bluff at cards like almost no one else.

"I underestimated your ability to hide emotions, John," she whispered. "You do it quite well."

"I just do what I have to do," he whispered back. "Believe me, I don't enjoy it. Please don't ask any more."

She lowered her head for a second, showing her agreement. She gripped his hands tightly. "It still hurts that you let Alonzo and I suffer this whole day while you had hope for the future. Literally."

He shrugged. "I never thought you needed it."

"What?" she asked, amazed.

"You've never needed it before," he said. "You've always been Devon Adair, woman of steel. I once told Walman that you were ready to pick up the transrover and carry it across a river on your back, and he didn't contradict me. You've always been the poster woman of idealism and strength and self-confidence." He shrugged again. "It never even crossed my mind that you'd be so terrified that you'd need my help."

Devon looked at him in disbelief. "I'm always terrified," she said. "And maybe I'm tired of carrying the goddamned transrover on my back, because that's certainly what it feels like I've done!"

Danziger gulped once. He'd rarely heard Devon use even the mildest expletive, even when not around the kids. It was a sign of how distraught she was, and it made him feel awful.

"Maybe I'm tired of being the one the group relies on to keep them going!" she continued, clearly upset. "Maybe I'm tired of taking care of everyone, of patching things up with the Terrians whenever someone else kicks them the wrong way, of feeling the weight of an entire planet on my shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, I need someone to lean on and to hold me, because I'm tired, and I feel like I can only take so much, John!"

He held her. Buried her face in his shoulder and promised himself he'd never let go.

"I'm sorry, Devon," he whispered. "I never knew. It never occurred to me. I..." He breathed deeply. "I underestimated your ability to hide your feelings."

She sniffed slightly. "I hear that's a problem that's been going around," she whispered.

He held her close, and neither of them felt like moving. The only sound was a few crickets and the radio deejay's soft voice.

"Hey, Mike Anderson, here. I'll be showering you with songs all the way to midnight. We have mostly clear skies all the way through Wednesday, at least. Right now it's 81 degrees. Here's some Greenday for you, on light rock 88.9, KOBA."

The light strums of a guitar floated through the door, and a man began to sing.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

Danziger just held Devon, and she held him back. He felt her body relax against his, and he began to stroke her lightly on the back as they silently heard the words.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind,
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial.
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

Danziger gave Devon a final squeeze as the song ended. "Want to go inside?" he asked.

She nodded. Together they stepped back into the house and quietly shut the door.

 

Jose tossed and turned on the pull-out bed in his living room, while a strange evil slept in his own bed upstairs. But the circular motion of all his thoughts prevented sleep from visiting him.

He needed answers, and Paul obviously wasn't going to tell him anything. He could snoop around on his own, but what about the consequences? He would go to jail, he knew that. But wasn't he in jail now? Sort of? Should he wait for things to get better on their own? Perhaps Paul would find someone else to torture, and he would move out of his life as suddenly and as mysteriously as he had moved in.

As his thoughts chased themselves around in his brain, one stood out above all others, as clear as daylight. It wasn't really a thought, so much as a saying which made perfect sense right now.

My enemy's enemy is my friend.

Jose couldn't get that saying out of his mind, and his thoughts kept returning to the garage and the strange creature kept there. A Terrian, Paul had called it. Brian the Terrian. And Jose could have sworn that when Paul was torturing the creature, it had shown distinctly familiar emotions. Was it a man who had been experimented on, somehow? Were Paul and Brian escapees from a weird secret government mental institution? Could Brian talk?

Jose finally decided that there was only one way to find out.

He strode silently through the kitchen, opened the door to the garage and turned on the light. Brian looked up at him sadly.

Jose stepped inside and regarded him with fear and wonder. "What are you?" he finally asked.

Brian let out a sad trill and his head tilted to one side. "What can I do for you?" Jose asked, wondering if there was anything else he could say or do.

But strangely, Brian seemed to understand him. Its hands went to the metal collar. Jose licked his lips, and a wild idea came to him. He grabbed a small canister of oil, then left without another word and crept to the stairs.

Paul had superhuman powers, somehow. Jose knew this. But what Paul didn't seem to realize was that this was Jose's house, and had been for years. Jose knew how to walk up the stairs without making any noise. He'd done so on many occasions when sneaking out of the house at night to meet his secretary at the motel, then sneaking back in before dawn.

A sudden grief threatened to overwhelm him. Why had he done such things? he wailed to himself. Now his wife was gone, taking their daughter with her. He recalled again how deeply they'd both been hurt when they'd found out. Now the woman who used to be his secretary gave shallow pleasure at night to some other employer in Albuquerque, leaving him with a large, empty, hollow house. A house which had once been filled with laughter.

Jose bit back the tears and regarded the staircase like a dark mountain of his soul he had to climb. One last time, he thought to himself. All that knowledge of how to walk these stairs without making them creak, let me use that knowledge one last time. But this time, for something good. This time, to help, not to hurt.

Jose lifted his foot onto the first stair as the painful memories came back to him. Each step was another stab in his heart, forcing him to recall the life he'd lost, and just how he'd lost it.

He ascended the stairs in perfect silence, then tiptoed down the hallway, just like he'd used to do, to his bedroom. He applied the oil to the hinges, then slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. His heart hammered away in his chest. He could almost believe that he would see his wife, his beloved Angela, lying in the bed again.

It wasn't Angela. It was Paul, the personification of evil. He was sprawled in his bed without a care in the world, snoring loudly.

And his gear set was on the bedside table. Its little green light was still on.

Jose crept across the room as slowly, and as quickly, as he dared. He gingerly picked up the gear set, then left. He didn't bother closing the door. He knew he'd have to make another trip to put the gear set back, and it would be easier if he only had to open the door once.

He stole back down the stairs and virtually ran to the garage. Brian looked up as he entered.

Jose took a good look at the gear. It had a myriad of buttons on the side, but none of them were marked. This reinforced his suspicion that Paul was a renegade, crazy governmental type, for whoever had designed this piece of machinery obviously didn't want just anyone using it. One had to be taught how to use it.

But Paul had left it on after torturing the Terrian. Jose had the vague hope that this meant he didn't have to do anything. He should just be able to put it on and use it. He strapped it to his head, wondering where the microphone was. He figured it must be a really sensitive piece of equipment, really high-tech, powerful stuff. Not the sort of thing you could easily buy at Radio Shack. He absently spoke the only word he'd seen Paul use. "Charge."

The shock which tore through Brian stunned Jose, and he put his hand out in a vain effort to stop it. "Oh, God. Oh, sweet Jesus, I'm so sorry," he said frantically. "I didn't know. I...I mean..."

Brian looked at him sullenly, and Jose gulped once. "Please don't hurt me," he said. "Listen, I'm going to try to help you. I hope you can somehow help me."

If the fancy headphones could control the collar by voice, then perhaps there were other commands besides "Charge," Jose reasoned. He licked his lips and tried a few. "Soothe," he said. Nothing. "Comfort. Help." Still nothing. Okay, perhaps the collar was for torture only, and had no ability to comfort its victim. So how about getting the collar off, then?

"Unclasp," Jose said. Nothing happened. "Open. Open sesame. Um...unsnap. Let go. Release."

The collar opened with a chink and fell to the floor.

Jose took a step back in terror as Brian stood up. He gulped once, hard, as Brian approached him, but Jose didn't move any further. He needed this Terrian on his side. He couldn't afford to run.

But Brian simply laid a hand across Jose's forehead, and he suddenly found himself in a strange, echoing, shifting dreamscape.

 

Alonzo erupted from his sleep with a yell, scaring the hell out of Devon and Danziger, who were stretched out on the floor.

"What?" they cried. "What is it?"

 

"Where am I?" Jose asked, spinning around and around inside a cave, lit by an orange, fiery glow. A dark-haired handsome young man suddenly appeared in front of him, and Jose felt a surge of relief coming from Brian, as if the man was a great friend who would put everything right.

"Who are you?" Alonzo asked the confused-looking Hispanic man in front of him, then winced as images forced themselves into his brain at high speed.

Jose stepped forward to help the dark-haired man, who had just doubled over in pain of some kind. But before he could reach him, a hand grabbed his shoulder and sent him crashing into the shelves along the garage wall.

Paul spun around and backhanded Brian viciously. He picked up the collar and placed it back on his neck, then kicked him several times.

Jose stood up. "Leave him alone!" he yelled. He was shaking with fear, with rage, with grief. With lots of things.

Paul turned around, a look of amusement on his face. "I hope you haven't damaged my gear set," was all he said. He held his hand out.

Jose thought for a second about resisting, about attempting to keep the gear set from Paul. But he knew that Paul was perfectly capable of killing him and then taking the gear off his dead body, so he decided to play for life. He took off the gear and tossed it Paul, who caught it deftly.

"Now," Paul said, advancing on Jose menacingly, "where did you suddenly get a backbone from, hmm?"

"I just wanted to know what he was." He? Jose thought. How did he know that Brian was a he?

Paul smirked. "You actually care for it, don't you?" But Jose didn't answer him. "Let me tell you one little word of advice, Senor Rodriguez," Paul continued. "You're wasting your compassion on Brian."

"Like I should be saving it for you?" Jose snorted.

"Like you should be saving it for yourself," Paul replied. "And if that's not enough, you might want to consider what the ruin of your reputation would do to your ex-wife and your daughter." He smiled.

Jose's face changed expression completely. "You leave them out of this," he said darkly. "Do what you like with me, but don't ever mention them again."

"Or what?" Paul asked with glee. "If you care for them, try watching your step a bit more. And since you like Brian so much, you can spend the night with him. Don't come out until I let you out, or I'll kill you."

Then Paul left, leaving the door to the kitchen wide open. Jose wondered what this meant, if the open door was some kind of a taunt.

Paul returned moments later with a strange-looking instrument in his right hand. Before Jose could react, Paul walked right up to him and placed it against his neck. There was a tiny hiss, and Jose hit the floor.

Paul turned out the light, shut the door and locked it, then happily went back to bed.

 

"I only had contact for a moment," Alonzo breathed, as Devon and Danziger clung to his every word. "But the pictures I saw in my mind were so vivid. I know where the Terrian is being held!"

"Great, where?" Devon asked excitedly.

Alonzo just shook his head in consternation. "I can't name it or describe it. I saw a house on a nice street. I can see it so clearly. I could take you right there if I knew where it was."

"But you don't know where it is," Danziger said, the dejection clear in his voice.

"Well, no," Alonzo admitted. "But I'd recognize it."

Zero spoke up. "Since the three of you are awake, I might as well tell you that I've deciphered more of Paul's data chip."

"Okay," Devon said tentatively, wondering if she really wanted to hear more insanity of Paul's.

"First of all, Paul evidently has access to a Complete Archive," Zero reported.

"I'm not surprised, being that he's Council," Devon replied.

"A complete archive of what?" Danziger asked.

"Of everything," Devon explained. "Starting in the latter half of the 20th century, there was an explosion of technology and information. The human race's knowledge began to grow at an exponential rate, and the so-called "Renaissance Man" became obsolete. It was impossible for anyone to know everything, and the dangers and pitfalls of this patchwork of knowledge became a huge stumbling block to society.

"So starting around 2010, after they invented storage devices fast enough and compact enough, someone had the bright idea to create Complete Archives. Capital 'C,' capital 'A.' They're collections of thousands of terabytes of information, copies of every paper, every book, every web site, almost every iota of information that anyone has ever written anywhere, no matter how ridiculous or trivial. It was compiled and cross-tabulated. They were enormously expensive, but well worth it to the few who could afford it. They've been updated over the years. My father used one to help build the first space stations."

"Why does that matter now?" Danziger asked.

"Are you listening to her, John?" Alonzo asked. "A Complete Archive. Including information that's relevant here, in this time."

Danziger rubbed his chin as he realized what they were saying. "So Paul could use one of these archives to know all about the current political climate..."

Devon nodded. "And people. Their movements, their activities, using documents that haven't even been written yet. He could read a news article from tomorrow's newspaper and tell where people will be at a given time, and be there to meet them or manipulate them."

"Or kill them," Alonzo said. The other two looked at him in alarm, and realized he was right.

"What else, Zero?" Devon asked softly.

"Paul does indeed seem to have a particular meeting in mind," Zero said. "He talks a lot about a place called Satan's Abyss, sometimes referring to it as Satan's Chasm. It seems to be a literal place, not a metaphorical one. One particular passage from his private journal reads, 'I will strike with a mighty thunderbolt from the heart of Satan's Abyss. The most perfect, symbolic place I can think of to wipe out the evil of Eden Advance. The ancestor of evil goes there on the 3rd of July, and I will be there, waiting.'"

"The ancestor of evil?" Danziger repeated, his face screwed up in revulsion and confusion.

"That would be us," Devon said. "We're the evil ones."

"More specifically, you, Devon," Zero said. "Paul repeatedly refers to you as 'the evil.'"

"And the ancestor of evil would be..." Alonzo said, and they all stared at each other.

"A relative?" Devon asked, horrified. "Someone related to me?"

"Yes," Zero replied. "Paul's plan, apparently, is to show up at a predetermined place called Satan's Abyss, some time on July 3, 2000, and assassinate a distant ancestor of you, Devon Adair."

They could only stare at each other in horror. "That's..." Devon whispered. "That's the day after tomorrow." She looked up into Danziger's horrified eyes.

"We only have one day to find him!"