Pursuit

Because she loved him. And he loved her.

But was that enough? She had finally gotten a chance to pursue her lifelong goal last year. Performing with Jim Valenti and his neo-country band, The Kit-Shickers, she had been spotted by music producers and was offered a recording contract in New York City. But she soon discovered that they wanted to "manufacture" her, to remold her into a pop princess rather than allow her to make the kind of music that was important to her.

Before leaving for the big city, Maria had talked with Liz. She still remembered what Liz had said: "You should find a way to compromise without losing what's important to you, because if you don't do this, you are always going to be miserable. “

Shortly afterward, she had turned down the music producers and returned to the alien drama that was Roswell. And a few months later, she had been forced to choose between a life on the run with Michael and her friends, or staying behind in the small town to face a certain, if dull, future.

But is my future any less uncertain now? What do I have to look forward to? I'm not doing any music now, my relationship with Michael isn't growing, and, on top of that, I got tasered today I Michael snored quietly beside her, and sleepily placed his hand on her arm.

The touch was electric, but not alien. Maria was keenly aware that of all the members of their group, she was the only one who not only wasn't alien but also hadn't been made partially alien by Max's healing powers.

She could walk away and never worry about being burdened with seeing the future, or shooting sparks from her fingertips. She was a completely normal human girl who just happened to be in love with an alien guy.

But she could walk away.

Couldn't she? Liz stood on the corner and looked down the street. At first, she didn't recognize the two men coming toward her a few blocks away, and then the light from a passing car illuminated them briefly. Max and Kyle! Backing up, Liz turned and headed down the block toward the pay phone on which Isabel was talking to Jesse. They hadn't been conversing for very long, but Max and Kyle had apparently finished making their food run faster than anticipated.

Isabel was facing away when Liz approached. Liz coughed slightly to get her attention, and heard Isabel say, "What makes you think the kids won't look like you? “

Liz reached out to touch Isabel's shoulder, and started to tell her that Max and Kyle were coming.

The instant her hand made contact with Isabel, Liz's vision abruptly snapped into focus, as she saw a flash of a window exploding… Then men in dark uniforms, their guns pointed directly at her… Next she saw a placid coastline through the rounded window of an airplane, the sun-dappled water far below her colored a startling lapis lazuli blue… And suddenly she was strapped down onto a table, with tubes and wires entering various parts of her body. She could see her reflection in the edges of the metallic plates and the hoods of the lights above her. But it wasn't herself she was seeing.

It was Isabel.

Liz realized that her head… Isabel's head… was wounded and bloody, and she heard a whining sound like a dentist's drill beside one of her ears. She saw a masked doctor looking down at her, his pitiless, slate- colored eyes clearly visible through his transparent goggles. She could see blood spraying robins-egg patterns across his smock, his mask, his goggles… Next came pain and utter darkness.

Roswell, New Mexico Jeff Parker finished putting the garnishes on the dinner plates, making sure that every element of the food, from preparation to presentation, was as perfect as he could manage. He prided himself that the Crashdown nearly always got newspaper reviews as one of the best diners in southeastern New Mexico. But this order deserved special attention: It was for Jim Valenti and Amy DeLuca.

The months since graduation had been difficult. After the commencement ceremony, the Parkers had been interrogated by black-suited men from the government, but they had no answers for them. Not only did they not know where Liz or the others had gone, they also had no idea why they had suddenly skipped town. Amy DeLuca had been similarly interviewed, as had the Evanses and Deputy Valenti.

In a private meeting, Phillip Evans had promised Jeff and Nancy that he was reasonably certain that the kids were all okay, and that the reason the government was looking for them was not related to any criminal activities on the kids' part. Phillip's explanation had calmed everyone somewhat, but after Max's and Liz's run-in with the law up in Utah over a year ago, Jeff had to admit, if only to himself, that he still had his doubts.

Jeff knew that something strange had been going on between Liz and her friends during their high school years, but it wasn't until a month after they'd disappeared that he and Nancy had discovered what it was. A FedEx delivery had yielded a box with several cookbooks that Jeff couldn't recall having ordered, but as he opened one of them, he'd discovered that it had been hollowed out. Nestled within its center was Liz's journal.

The journal had explained everything, especially how Liz's world had changed so completely after she'd been shot during the altercation at the Crashdown three years ago. After closing that evening in the diner, as he read through Liz's journal entries, Jeff marveled at the secrets his daughter had kept, and the adventures she and her friends had experienced. It all seemed surreal, almost like a science-fiction movie or a television show. And yet it was his daughter's life.

The final entry had been written on the day she'd sent the journal via FedEx.

I can't tell you much more than that. It wouldn't be safe… for you or for us. I can tell you that we're far away, and that we're all trying to avoid the law and do good in the world. Oh, and I guess I should tell you that Max and 1 did eventually tie the knot. Give my love to Mom. Let her read this journal too. Then, give it to Maria's mom. And after that, take it and burn it out in the desert by the ruins of the pod chamber where my husband was born.

So that's the end. Our life in Roswell. What a long, strange trip it's been. Will we ever go back? 1 don't know. Even I can't see everything in the future. All I know is that I'm still Liz Parker, and I'm happy.

It was the last communication the Parkers had received from their daughter in months. Jeff had followed her instructions by sharing the journal with Amy DeLuca, and had also let the Evanses and Valenti read it. Even though he'd been shocked at first to learn how the kids had kept secrets from him, he understood now the necessity of those secrets. Nancy evidently felt likewise; she had told him that, in the same situation, the two of them probably would have made the same choices.

Valenti had warned all of them that they were being watched and monitored, and Jeff had even spotted some of the people he suspected were spying on him. But he never let on that he knew who they were, and neither did Nancy.

When they were in public, or home, or on the phone, none of the parents ever discussed what was really going on with their kids. They had all agreed to pretend not to know anything, expressing their concern and updating one another on not hearing from their children, for the benefit of any federal agents who might be listening in.

But Jeff knew that in their private meetings their tone with one another was quite different. Jim, Amy, Phillip, Diane, and he and Nancy all shared a secret bond that kept them in orbit around one another. Jim Valenti had shared more of his reflections on the past three years with them once the parents all knew the truth, and they now saw him as their children's guardian angel.

Jim had been the one who delivered to each of them their first news since Liz's journal arrived. Once a month, Jeff and Amy DeLuca received brief e-mails, though the Evanses had not always been so fortunate. Valenti always got them the e-mails in a way that made sure nobody but them knew what was happening: He delivered them as hard copies, which immediately went to the paper-shredder after they were read.

It had now been over a month since Jeff had last had any contact with Liz, so he hoped that the real reason Jim and Amy were eating here tonight might be to bring him some word from the kids.

Balancing the tray of food before him, Jeff moved out of the kitchen area, through the swinging door, and out into the dining area of the Crashdown.

"Here you go, Jim. The Tommy Lee Jones Basket. Extra peppers, as requested," he said as he set the deputy's plate on the table in front of him.

"Mmmmmm, smells great," Jim said, grinning.

Jeff placed Amy's plate in front of her as well. "Here's your Moon Rock Hash and Orbit Rings, Amy. And, if I may say so, you look great tonight. “

She blushed, waving her hand at him as if to push the compliment away. "Flattery won't get you a bigger tip, Jeff. “

Valenti picked up a folded menu from the table and handed it to Jeff. "I noticed there was something spilled on this menu, Jeff. You might want to get it replaced. “

"Thanks, Jim. I'll do that." He took the menu, his heart racing. "Anything else? “

"Naw, I think that'll do it," Valenti said.

Jeff turned and headed back to the kitchen. He opened the menu to find a folded piece of paper inside. He quickly slipped it into his pocket.

Ill read it tonight with Nancy, he thought. Out on Liz's balcony.

Cheyenne, Wyoming Max and Kyle approached at a run. Liz lay on the sidewalk, semiconscious. Alarmed, Max gently shook Liz and called her name. After a few moments, she groaned and began to awaken. Seeing that she didn't appear injured, Max felt relief flood through him like a physical force.

"Liz? What happened? “

Liz looked up at him, then seemed to notice the presence of Kyle and Isabel. Max could see that she was still disoriented.

"She put her hand on my shoulder and there was this big burst of energy," Isabel said. "And then she passed out. “

"I saw it," Liz said. "I saw Isabel die. “

"What?" The word came out of Isabel almost as a shriek.

"I got a future flash," Liz said, turning toward Isabel and addressing her directly. "The MiBs had caught you. They had doctors operating on you. “

"When? Where?" Max felt fear course through his system. If he lived to be a thousand, he would never forget the dissection to which he had nearly been subjected in the White Room at the hands of Agent Pierce. He would do anything to protect his sister from a fate like that.

"I don't know," Liz said. "There wasn't anything I could reference to figure out the date or the time. All I saw was one of those big scary operating rooms like they have in the movies. “

"So you're saying I'm gonna be killed by a mad scientist?" Isabel asked.

"Hey, Isabel, it's going to be okay," Kyle said, trying to reach out and hold her. "Calm down. “

"Calm down? You aren't the one who's going to be the star of Alien Autopsy, Kyle." Isabel shook off his touch and put her hands up to her face, breathing through her steepled fingers. Max had rarely seen Isabel so upset.

Then it occurred to him that he shouldn't be seeing her at all… at least, not away from their temporary sanctuary of the abandoned church. And not next to a pay phone.

"What were you doing out here, anyhow?" Max asked her, fearing he already knew the answer.

"I called Jesse, okay?" Isabel admitted, her anguished voice rising almost to a shout. "I just wanted to talk to my husband. Is that so wrong? “

Max knew that now wasn't the time to lecture her about how she might have endangered Jesse. Not with what Liz had just revealed about Isabel's future. Isabel's possible future, he thought, correcting himself. The whole point of our being out here on the road is to carve out our own destinies. We left Roswell to prove that we can make whatever future we want for ourselves. And yet all they seemed to be doing was running and hiding.

Max knew he had to get Isabel calmed down so that they could face the problem of Liz's premonition rationally.

He looked past his sister for a moment and noticed that the pay phone's receiver was dangling from the end of its cord.

"Is Jesse still on the line?" Max asked.

Isabel picked up the phone and put it to her ear. "Hello? Jesse?" She turned back toward Max. "No. He's gone. When Liz's vision made her cry out, I guess I dropped the phone right in the middle of things. “

Max approached her and kept his voice low and… he hoped… soothing. "Isabel, call him back and let him know you're all right. “

"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Max?" Kyle asked. "The Feds might trace the call. “

"If they can, then they probably already did," Max said. "There's no point in leaving Jesse hanging." He turned to face Isabel. "He's probably worried, Iz. Tell him you'll find a way to reach him later. And don't mention anything about what Liz said. We've changed the course of events she's seen in her premonitions before. We can do it again. “

Isabel nodded, then reached out and hugged him. He squeezed her in return. The contact renewed his determination to keep her safe.

They disengaged after a moment, and Max turned to crouch beside Liz again. Now she seemed more clearheaded than she had a few moments before. Kyle had placed a hand on her forehead. Max felt a twinge of jealousy, but cleared it out of his mind as quickly as it had come. Kyle and Liz had dated in the past, but Kyle was still her friend. And as a friend, he was entitled to care about her.

"How are you feeling now?" Max asked Liz.

She sighed. "I'm doing all right, Max. The vision just knocked the wind out of me. “

"Well, let's all get back to the van and eat," Max said. "I think food will do us some good. Then we can figure out what to do next." As long as the bad guys don't suddenly show up and make that decision jor us, he thought.

"Good idea," Kyle said. "Let's get you up," he said to Liz, reaching for one of her arms. Max took the other one, and they helped her get to her feet.

Max turned back toward the phone booth and caught Isabel's gaze. She was talking on the phone, so apparently she'd managed to reconnect with Jesse.

He turned back to Liz and Kyle. "Let her finish up. “

A few moments or so later, Isabel hung up the phone and rejoined the group.

"Everything smoothed over?" Max asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Isabel said. She still sounded stunned by Liz's dire forewarning.

"Let's get back to the VW, then," Max said, offering her a smile that he could only hope would reassure her. "Dinner awaits. “

Boston Jesse was glad that Isabel had called him back. He wasn't sure what was worse: not having heard from her at all, hearing the news from her about Cheyenne, or hearing the phone cut off in mid-conversation. At least her callback had told him that she and Liz were all right, even if she hadn't gone into specifics about what actually had happened.

She'd sounded tired, but he hadn't wanted to tell her that. He couldn't deny that she no longer sounded like the confident young woman he had married. Life on the road was apparently wearing them all down more than she had wanted to admit.

After ringing off with Isabel, Jesse decided to get some coffee at the Java Joint a few blocks away, near Harvard Square. He didn't anticipate being able to sleep for a while tonight, so he decided he might as well add some caffeine to his system. Sometimes it actually had the effect of calming his nerves rather than exciting them.

As he waited on the street corner for the walk signal, he felt the phone vibrate again in his pocket. Is Isabel calling a third time? He clicked it on. "Hello? “

"I need to speak to a lawyer," the male voice on the other end of the line said.

Jesse's blood ran cold. "How did you get this number? “

"A friend of mine gave it to me. He said it was the number of a good attorney. “

Jesse stared at his phone in horror. The only person who knew he had this phone was a client who was currently in jail, and therefore not likely to be sending Jesse any referrals. Which meant that the person on the other end of the line must have heard him give the cell phone number to Isabel earlier.

Which meant his home phone was bugged.

"You've got the wrong number, buddy. I'm a pizza delivery guy," Jesse said, then clicked the phone off.

Looking into the street, he saw a delivery truck and several cars heading toward the intersection. Timing it to their speed, he tossed the cell phone into their path.

A second after it clattered to the street, he heard a satisfying crunch as the delivery truck smashed the phone into a pile of wire and broken components. The truck's driver honked at Jesse and flipped him the bird.

Needing coffee now more than ever, Jesse continued down the street.

If they are still tapping me, do they know that was Isabel who called? Am I about to be dragged into the alien nightmare again? Jesse knew he couldn't answer those questions. Nor was there anyone in Boston with whom he could even discuss them.

He was alone. All alone.

Cheyenne, Wyoming "I don't remember anything more," Liz said. "I'm sorry. These precognitive flashes aren't exactly linear. And I can't control when I get them. “

"So the only clue we have is that Isabel is apparently put on a plane first," Kyle said, wiping fried chicken grease off his fingers. "Easy. So we keep her from getting on any planes. “

"That's not so easy to do when the reason she was on the plane appears to be because she was in custody" Maria said. "It sounds like our real goal is to keep her from getting captured in the first place. “

"Brilliant," Michael said, digging into a tub of soggy coleslaw with his plastic spork. "I think that's the general idea for all of us. “

Maria glared at Michael but said nothing.

"Knowing that we're in more and more danger the longer we stay in Cheyenne, we need to decide how we're getting out of here," Isabel said, breaking the momentary silence. She was idly playing with her long braid.

"But we've still got unfinished business here," Kyle said.

"You're right," Michael said. "We left a bunch of stuff at the hotel. Doesn't make sense to ditch what's left of our worldly possessions if we don't have to. “

Kyle shook his head, looking exasperated. "Who cares about that? There are two people who are in the hospital because of us. Are we really going to just abandon the people who got hurt because of us? “

"Are you still suggesting that Max try to sneak into the hospital and heal them?" Michael asked.

Kyle nodded. "Why not? It's not like he hasn't done the same thing before. In fact, it seems like every few months back in Roswell he was sneaking into a hospital to heal somebody. And Maria and Isabel have had experience working as candy stripers more than once. “

Max winced. Early in his relationship with Liz, he had failed to heal her beloved grandmother, who was dying. He didn't think she held it against him, but he still felt guilty about having let her down.

"I agree with Kyle," Isabel said. "Those people wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for us. I think we can help them and not get caught. Like Kyle said, we've done it before. “

"We've also been shot at before, and I don't want to repeat that experience," Michael said, his tone acidic. "I vote no. “

"I vote yes," Maria said, offering a half-apologetic look to Michael.

Max made a decision. "It's not up for a vote. We're going to help them. Then we're going to get our stuff. And then we're getting out of Cheyenne. “

"How do we know that deciding to get out of Cheyenne isn't what gets Isabel captured? “

"Don't go there, E. T.," Maria said, shaking her head. "We're sunk if we start getting so freaked out about Liz's psychic hot line that we can't make any decisions. “

"'We' don't seem to need to make any decisions," Michael said, leveling his insolent gaze straight at Max. "Our Mighty King has spoken. “

"Let's not go through this again, Michael," Max said, an edge of anger creeping into his voice in spite of himself. Less than a year earlier, Michael had challenged Max's leadership one too many times. He'd even managed to steal the Antarian royal seal Max carried embedded within him. But Max had taken it back, and Michael had pretty much toed the line since then.

"Before you go off making pronouncements, there's one thing we haven't really talked about," Maria said. Max assumed her edgy tone was in defense of Michael. "When you heal people, you transfer some of your alien essence into them. Look at what's happened to Liz. How do we know it won't happen to Kyle? You've healed him twice now. And how about his dad? Or, for that matter, what about Brody's daughter, and all those sick kids you healed Christmas before last? Or any of the others? “

"We don't know that the power transfer works on everybody" Isabel said.

"Actually, I think it's started to work on me already," Kyle said. Everyone looked at him, but only Maria's face revealed any shock. Max remembered she had been the only one unconscious back in the mall's corridor. She hadn't witnessed Kyle's surprising psionic episode.

"1 mean, what was going on with me back at the mall?" Kyle said. "It was like I was inside a bunch of people's heads all at once, but I wasn't, like, telepathic or anything. “

"Didn't Nasedo say that your powers come from the parts of the brain that aren't fully used in most humans?" Liz asked, looking toward Michael.

"Pretty much," Michael responded. "He told me that when we were engineered, we were given the capacity to do everything the human brain is capable of. He said that humans were wasteful, that they didn't even reach a small part of their brains' potential. We're programmed to be thousands of years ahead of mankind. “

"Minimal brain use isn't exactly a new theory," Liz said. "Science-fiction writers have been using that as a plot device for years. In order to be smarter or more powerful, we just need to use our whole brain instead of only a fraction of it. “

"So Nasedo said that none of your powers come from the fact that you're aliens?" Maria said, looking confused. "We could do all the things you can do if we just thought harder? “

"I don't think that's quite it," Max said. "From what Nasedo said, there are things we can do that were engineered into us. That's clear, given that some of us can do things the others can't. And our corresponding Dupes from New York apparently had the same powers as we do… or at least very similar ones. “

"Not to get too techno-geeky, but the brain runs on electrical impulses, and our thoughts are an extension of those impulses," Liz said. "Since I seem to have electrical powers and intermittent precognition, maybe Max's powers jump-started those neural pathways in my brain. “

"That might explain whatever happened to me today," Kyle said. "It felt like I was, I don't know, broadcasting everyone's thoughts or… it was weird. “

"So, we know that two of the people Max has healed have started to develop hyperbrains," Maria said. "But both of them were shot, and dying. So was Kyle's dad. That's different from all the sick kids he healed. So is it possible they won't develop into the New Mutants because they weren't bleeding from gunshot wounds when they were healed? “

Isabel waved her hands in front of her. "Okay, enough. We don't know whether everyone Max heals will develop alien powers or not. So the question becomes: Do we risk our safety helping these people or not? “

"We're helping them," Max said. Michael rolled his eyes. "But first, we get some sleep. Everybody. “

He turned toward Kyle. "Please set your watch alarm for two A.M. That's when the bars close. If there's any time the hospital might be busiest at night, that's when it will be. “

"Are you thinking some drunks might get into a car wreck tonight to create a diversion for us?" Michael said, smirking at Max.

"There doesn't seem to be much else for the locals to do in this town at night besides hit the cowboy bars," Max said. He looked around the van at the others. "We'll go over everything at two. But first, we all need to get some sleep and recharge our batteries. “

A few minutes later, everyone in the group seemed to have made the best of its situation. Michael and Maria were in the very back of the Microbus, while Max, Liz, and Isabel tried to get comfortable in the center section. Kyle occupied the driver's seat, his body leaning over onto the window, his legs propped up on the passenger seat. It wasn't a comfortable arrangement, but it wasn't the first time they had slept this way. At least this time they didn't have their luggage to contend with as well. Of course, that meant they didn't have their pillows, either.

For some time after everyone else's breathing had settled into the smooth and rhythmic patterns of sleep, Max lay awake. As exhausted as he was, he was even more tired of running… and of wondering what Earthly or otherworldly menace would threaten him, his friends, and his family next.

Eventually, fatigue won out, and Max fell into a deep sleep that even his nightmares didn't dare trouble.

Kal Langley stepped out of the limousine, and into a small puddle of water. Things are not going smoothly, he thought.

He had taken a break from the press tour for his latest film to go on a "personal errand." His limo driver knew better than to question why they were at a seedy outdoor storage facility, and he was likely looking the other way now.

Langley stepped up to the rolling door of the storage locker and grasped the pair of locks on it. Strange. I only put one lock on it, and neither of these is it. A rumble in his stomach gave voice to the suspicion that knotted there. Has someone been in here? He put his hands over the locks and mentally pushed. A slight glow came from his hand, and the locks both clicked open.

He rolled the door halfway open, ducked under it, and closed it again. No use in giving his driver any reason to ask questions. His palm glowed, lighting the area. He could immediately see that things were not as he had left them.

There were more crates and cases than he'd remembered, and the crates he was looking for weren't there. Reaching over to one of the unknown cases, he ripped it open. Thick dust sloughed off from the lid. Inside the box were bags filled with bricks of a powdery substance. Cocaine. Why is there cocaine in my storage locker? Expending only a little of his strength, he ripped the wooden top off a long rectangular crate. Inside, the packing material padded guns. Not his guns.

Langley began pushing boxes and crates aside. Some of his materials were here, but the four crates that had held the Royal Four's pods were missing. Then, he spotted something on the floor. A dark stain, surrounded by other stains.

Kneeling, he put his brightly shining palm near it. The stain was dark brown, almost black, and he was reasonably certain it was blood. The other stains were more clear, like the trails that slugs left behind them as they moved.

Langley 's mind whirled. Given the dust on the floor and the boxes of guns and drugs, it appeared that no one had been in the storage locker for years. But whoever was here last had taken the crates containing the pods. And someone had been injured here, or perhaps even killed. It appeared that the pods had been opened, if the remnants of slime on the floor were any indication.

But were they all opened? Were they all alive and unharmed? Where are they now? Langley hadn't intended to awaken the Royal Four until they were fully mature. Extended gestation inside the membranous pods would nurture their alien powers, making them stronger and more powerful the longer they remained ensconced.

Sometimes he thought that he might not awaken them at all. Why would he want to return to Antar? Besides, the other Royal Four were already living in Roswell. Or Royal Three at least, if his surveillance information was correct. Perhaps Nasedo had the fourth child, Ava, with him. Or perhaps she hadn't survived into her teens. He didn't know. He hadn't had contact with Nasedo for years.

Today was supposed to just be a check-in to make sure that nothing had gone wrong with the pods, whatever he decided to do with them in the future.

Something was definitely wrong. The Royal Four was missing. Luckily, Langley had resources.

While Rath and Lonnie made out on the sidewalk, Zan and Ava chose several slices of hot pizza from the twenty-four-hour pizza joint on the corner. Zan grabbed a handful of sugar packets from the condiment area; they'd help season the spicy pepperoni to suit the group's alien palates.

Zan looked over at Ava as she went to "pay" the clerk. He always enjoyed watching her work her mindwarp mojo. She handed the clerk a bar flyer she had picked up from the sidewalk outside, and asked, "Can you break this? “

"Sure," the man said agreeably. He counted out thirty-eight dollars in change and handed it back to Ava. Grinning, she turned and came over to Zan.

They exited the shop and handed Rath and Lonnie their slices. Zan sprinkled the sugar over his, and handed packets to the others so that they could do the same. None of them knew why they liked such a high contrast of sweet and sour tastes together; their favorite mixture lately had been horseradish over ice cream.

"Got us some money, too," Ava said. "What say we go dancing? “

"Sounds good to me," Lonnie said. "How about Club Rent? “

Rath seemed distracted, and looked over his shoulder for the third time in the last minute.

"What's up? Ava toasted the pizza guy's brain," Zan said. "He's not gonna come after us. “

"Not him," Rath said. "Somebody else has been bogey-ing us. Old balding guy. Dressed in black. He's been following us for the last twenty minutes. “

Zan looked back over his shoulder and saw a man matching the description Rath had given standing on the opposite side of the street. He didn't seem to flinch when he saw Zan looking at him. And he clearly was watching them.

"Turn up this alley here," Zan said. "And don't act like anything'sup. “

The four of them moved into the alley, chatting and laughing and eating their pizza. As soon as they were past a car parked in the alley, Rath ducked behind it, while the others continued on their way.

Zan turned his head slightly as they neared the end of the alley on the other side, and saw that the man was indeed following them. Almost there, Zan thought.

And then Rath stepped up from his crouch behind the car, unleashing a blast from his hands that threw the man up against the brick wall on the other side of the alley.

As the others turned to run back toward Rath, Zan was astonished to see the older man shake off the blast and raise his own hand, releasing a pulse of energy that sent a surprised Rath tumbling across the hood of a car.

Zan, Ava, and Lonnie raised their hands in unison, palms outward, toward the man. "Who are you?" Zan asked loudly. "If you're looking for trouble, you found it. “

The man smiled. Zan noticed he looked a lot like the weasely Cypher guy from The Matrix, and that he was dressed awfully well. "I'm not looking for trouble," the man said. "I'm looking for you. The Royal Four. “

An hour later Kal Langley had imparted all of the knowledge to the Royal Four that he planned to for now. He wasn't sure what their destiny was, but at sixteen years of age, none of them seemed overly concerned with getting back to their home planet.

When they told him they had a lair underneath the New York city streets… "an underground lair like Lex Luthor had in the first Superman movie," Rath had bragged… Langley had offered to help them secure some aboveground lodgings. Although he didn't say it, they stank, and their post-punk outfits and lifestyle were hardly conducive to a prosperous future.

They had turned him down, intent on making it "on their own." They did accept the alien artifacts he gave them, however, as well as the knowledge that he shared with them. But that was all they said they wanted.

We'll see where they are in a couple years, Langley thought as he bid them good-bye. They're a lot tougher than that Roswell group.

En route to New York City. Fall 2002.

As Bartolli gave the members of the strike team their instructions as to how to deal with the prisoners, Margolin called Agent Harrison. He used his cell phone rather than the airplanes phone, more out of habit than a fear of the signal being compromised.

"What's the progress in Cheyenne, Agent Harrison?" he asked as soon as the young agent picked up.

The man hesitated. "Not good, sir. It appears that the agents there engaged in a confrontation with the teens, and that the kids escaped. “

"Where was this confrontation? “

"It was at the mall, sir, but most of it was apparently away from the public view. Unfortunately, word has leaked out from law enforcement there, largely because of the circumstances. The targets blew out a store window, collapsed part of a concrete hallway on which the agents were standing, and caused a multiple-car accident. It's hard to contain that from the media. “

Margolin gritted his teeth. "Get it contained. No footage on the news. Confiscate all security tapes and whatever else might be around. “

"What about the cover story?" Harrison asked. "Currently, it's very vague, announcing only that these are possible terrorist actions, and that the FBI is looking into it. No descriptions or pictures of the six teens have been disseminated. “

"That's about the best cover story we can go with given the public nature of the… " Something clicked in Margolin's brain. "Did you say 'six teens'? “

"Yes, sir. Max and Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, Liz Parker, Maria DeLuca, and Kyle Valenti were spotted. Tess Harding was not seen with them. “

Margolin's mind whirled. "Get me visual confirmation on that from the mall security cams as soon as you can, Harrison. We may have a problem. “

"What's that, sir? “

"We're en route to New York City right now, and the army has taken into custody… this morning… Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, and Tess Harding. “

There was another beat of silence, and Margolin imagined that Harrison was as shocked by the news as he himself was. "I'll work on visuals immediately, sir. “

Margolin clicked off the phone and called for Bartolli.

What are we dealing with here? he thought. How can Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin be in two places at once? Can there be more than one of each of them? Bertram had said that Guerin had evidenced shape- changing powers. If that's true, couldn't the aliens be anyone among them? fust how many of them are there, anyway? Colonel Bertram welcomed his old friend with a hearty handshake. "You're looking well, Matt." It was a lie and the truth all at once. Margolin was so scarred up that he never looked well, but he did seem fit and trim.

Margolin nodded and offered a slight smile. "Thanks, Grant. You too." He gestured to the dangerous- looking man at his side. "This is Bartolli. “

Bertram started to extend his hand, but noticed that Bartolli didn't seem to be one for niceties, so he withdrew it and just nodded.

Eight paramilitary-outfitted agents trooped into the facility behind Margolin and Bartolli. "Sorry I don't have time to play catch-up, Colonel," Margolin said. "We need to see the prisoners. “

Bertram nodded and extended his arm. "Right this way. “

They came down a wide hallway, passing by the armed guards outside the heavy steel doors. A side room had a bank of monitors, each showing the rooms from different angles. A guard sat nearby, keeping a steady eye on the monitors. The three teens were exactly as Bertram had last seen them, strapped to their chairs, immobile.

Margolin leaned in to see the monitors, studying each of them closely. Bartolli's eyes scanned the monitors as well, though not from as close a vantage point.

Pointing at the image of the boy, Margolin asked, "Is this the one that changed his shape? “

"It wasn't exactly his shape," Bertram said. "It was more his face. It was like Mission: Impossible, except it didn't involve tearing off a rubber mask. It was as though his features just melted and reshaped themselves. Damnedest thing I ever saw. “

"Did either of the girls change their faces or display any unusual abilities?" Bartolli asked, his voice raspy. It was the first thing he'd said since entering the facility.

Bertram shook his head. "No, they were pretty well debilitated by the gas the police used. “

"They're about to be even more debilitated," Margolin said. "Colonel, please remove your men from this corridor. “

The guard in the monitor room looked at Bertram, and the colonel nodded. The man left. Bertram stepped into the corridor. "All right, men, please exit the corridor. Take a lunch break. “

After his men had left, the agents of Margolin's who had been waiting in the corridors swiftly moved into position. Canisters were dumped through a resealing chute. Bertram looked back at the monitors and saw them drop into the detention rooms. A barely visible vapor rose out of the canisters.

At first, the teens struggled against their bonds, and tried to hold their breath, knowing they were being gassed again. But after a few minutes, all three were unconscious.

Bartolli stepped out of the room and barked an order to the agents. Bertram watched as they donned gas masks and entered the rooms, unlocking the bonds that his man had put on the detainees and replacing them with cuffs and restraints of their own.

With Bartolli out of the room and headed down toward the detention chambers, Bertram finally saw his chance to speak to his old friend in private. "So, Matt, do you mind telling me what all this is about? “

Margolin regarded him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Matt. “

"Come on," Bertram said. "I did catch these kids for you. And it's not like I'm bad at keeping secrets related to special operations." He knew that Margolin could not have missed his veiled reference to their missions back in the Nam.

Margolin looked at him pointedly. "No. This one's strictly need-to-know. And any further inquiry or investigation into this… would not be looked upon favorably “

He turned to exit the room, then turned back around in the doorway. "Thanks for your help, Grant. And, in advance, for your discretion. We'll take it from here. “

As Margolin walked away, Bertram stared at him. He couldn't be sure, but he felt as if his old friend had just threatened him.

Whoever or whatever these kids are, something very nasty is going down here.

Maria unscrewed the top of the vial she wore on a chain around her neck. The scent of the eucalyptus oil immediately wafted into the air, and she inhaled it deeply. It calmed her, especially in times of high stress.

"Fine, I'll just wait out here then," Michael said grumpily. He was sitting in the VW's drivers seat.

"Oh, sometimes you're such a baby," Maria said, exasperated. "You don't even want us to do this at all. Why do you want to go in, now? “

Michael made a face. "Who said I did? “

Maria gritted her teeth and growled. Before she said anything she would regret, she turned her back and moved over to join the others.

"Okay, so have I said recently how thrown-together this plan is?" Maria asked quietly as the group, minus Michael, walked away from the van and made its way toward the hospital entrance. The others ignored her.

"We don't know this place," Max said, his voice hushed. "I'm going to need as many distractions as I can get if I'm going to have enough time to find the patients we're looking for. “

"Hold on a second," Isabel said, and the group stopped. "One more thing before Liz goes in." She reached forward and put her hands to either side of Liz's head. A slight glow spread out from her palms, and Liz's raven-colored hair changed to a light blond.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Maria said. "Blond? Let's play into the stereotypes. “

"Hey, whatever helps the actress get into character," Isabel said. "I can change it back later. “

"Yeah, thanks," Liz said, her tone a little grumpy.

As they neared the entrance, Max split off to one side, heading around the building toward a secured side door they had spotted. Isabel and Kyle squatted in the shadows, behind a bench.

Maria took a deep breath, then looked at Liz. "Ready, girlfriend? “

"Yeth, thertainly," Liz said in a singsong lisping voice.

"Oh, Lord, please don't do Cindy Brady," Maria said as the sliding doors opened in front of them.

The two girls moved across the lobby, where two women and a male nurse were working behind a semicircular desk. As they approached, one of the women took a set of clipboards and a tray and exited through a side opening in the counter. She didn't acknowledge their presence, but instead hurried over to an elevator and punched the call button.

"Can I help you?" the male nurse asked.

Liz put on her best smile and flipped her hair back with a toss of her head. "Hi," she said. "We were wondering how those poor people who were in that big car accident were doing? That girl and that other girl? Or lady or whatever? “

The nurse frowned slightly. "They're both currently in critical condition, but we're hoping for the best. Do you know them? “

"Yeah, um, okay, like we think we know the one girl," Maria said, putting on her best airhead voice. "The picture they showed on the news looked like this girl that's in our trigastronomy class, and we, like, thought maybe she'd want some good wishes from her classmates, you know? “

The man looked befuddled. "You must mean Shania Cameron. But you do realize that it's two-thirty in the morning and… “

"Yeah, that's it. Shania! Liz said, turning to Maria and slapping her on the hand. "1 told you." She turned back to the nurse. "She thought it was Monique. But I told her it was Shania. Like that singer, you know? “

Maria saw the female nurse roll her eyes and turn away, intent on her work… or trying hard to appear to be. "Okay, Gabrielle, I get it. You're smarter than me. Whatever." Maria looked back toward the male nurse. "So how's the other lady? She was, like, driving, when they had that big accident. “

"Mrs. Dobbs is in critical condition, like 1 said," the nurse replied. "But visiting hours are… “

"Is your job hard?' Liz asked, her voice raised slightly. She moved away from Maria, down the counter, toward the female nurse. "Me and Tamara have talked about, like what we want to do when we get old, you know, like you! We thought nursing might be fun. 'Cause we like to help people and stuff. “

The female nurse glared up at her, one eyebrow cocked. "First, I’m only twenty-six, which is not 'old.' Second, and no offense intended, but I'm not sure nursing is the right profession for you, miss. “

Liz put her hand up to her mouth and directed her comment to the male nurse. "Oooh, guess I hit a nerve. “

As Liz was doing her shtick, Maria moved up on her tiptoes and scanned anything on the desk that might tell her where the critical patients were. She thought she could see something on the monitor, but if she looked closer, she'd risk the male nurse seeing her snooping.

Suddenly Liz let out a yelp, then fell to the ground, out of sight on the other side of the desk. The two nurses rushed out to help her.

"Are you all right?" the male nurse asked.

"I think I twisted my ankle," Liz said. "I'm not used to walking in flats. “

"Let's get you over to the couch," the female nurse said, gesturing over to the waiting-area couches nearby. A television set mounted on the wall was tuned to a news channel.

As soon as the two nurses were occupied with Liz, Maria nudged the computer monitor and quickly scanned the screen. Bingo. The information she needed was there. She moved around the desk and, in a plaintive wail, asked, "Where's the bathroom? I really have to tinkle. “

The female nurse called out to her. "It's around the desk, to the right and down the corridor. “

"Thanks," Maria said. "I'll be right back. “

Behind her, she heard the male nurse ask Liz if she had been drinking tonight. Maria moved quickly down the corridor, and as she neared a unisex bathroom, she saw the door creak open. Max was inside, with the lights turned out. "You scared me!" Maria said.

"Sorry," Max responded. "Best place to hide. “

Maria sneaked a quick look down the hall and closed the door behind her. "Okay. The critical care ward is on this floor, just down the next hallway. You want the rooms of Shania Cameron and Denise Dobbs. I think they're in 120 and 126. Check the charts to be sure. “

"Good work," Max said. "How much time do I have? And is anyone else around? “

"There's one nurse doing rounds, but she went up in the elevator. I think you're okay for a bit. Liz and I will distract them for a few minutes more, and then it's Isabel and Kyle's turn. “

Max opened the door and peered around the frame.

"Good luck," Maria whispered as he moved quickly down the hall.

As Max jogged down the darkened hospital corridor, he could feel the pain around him. He wasn't generally any more empathic than humans, but his sensitivity always kicked in the strongest whenever he was in a hospital. And in the last few years, he had been in hospitals far too many times.

Growing up, he and Isabel hadn't often been sick, so they had rarely needed medical attention. The Evanses had just thought they'd adopted extraordinarily healthy children. Little did they know at the time that the emphasis should have been on the word extraordinarily.

But Liz had changed all that. Since sharing for the first time with a nonalien the secrets of his past and present, Max had been involved in medical emergencies and traumas at least half a dozen times. Sometimes he had used his powers to heal, and other times he hadn't. But everything changed during Christmas 2000, when he hadn't used his powers to save the life of John Littlefield, a young father. Littlefields ghost had haunted Max, telling him to "restore the balance." At the time, he took it to mean the balance of one man's life for the children, but he finally understood that the use of his innate powers was a gift he could give others; it was healing and positive, in stark contrast with his other, more offensive powers. That was the balance.

Still, the others were right to be concerned about the aftereffects of his healing powers. Liz had indeed inherited something from him, and it now appeared that Kyle was developing extra-normal powers as well. What exactly would happen to the ward full of children whom he had healed in Phoenix that Christmas? What was going to happen to Jim Valenti? Max found Room 120 and checked the chart on the door. It read DENISE DOBBS, the name Maria had given him. He moved toward her in the dim light of the room, shuddering momentarily at the sight of the various medical machines to which the woman was connected. They looked so invasive, and yet he knew they were keeping her alive. Still, his mind flashed briefly to the White Room and Agent Pierce, who had intended to take him apart surgically, piece by piece. Shuddering, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, and took notice of the readings on a few of the machines.

Since it didn't have the clip-on finger monitor attached, Max took Denise's left hand in his. Pressing her hand between his palms, he concentrated. A silver glow emanated through his hand and down her arm; in moments, it suffused her chest, then her neck and head. Max focused… And saw a large man scooping to pick him up, a smile on his wide, craggy, bearded face… A dark-haired man in a wheelchair, dressed in a tuxedo, putting a wedding ring on his finger… A nurse holding twin babies, still mottled pink-and-red… His hands setting onto a gleaming desktop with a nameplate that read DENISE DOBBS, VICE PRESIDENT OF MARKETING… The black sedan careening toward them in the intersection, with no time to stop, no choice but to throw his arm to the side to protect his daughter in the front seat… And then Max was back in his own mind and body. He released the woman's hand and let it drop to the bed, where her fingers twitched slightly. In the dim light, they retained a visible trace of his glowing silver energies.

Max looked at the machines and was gratified to see that the signals had gotten stronger and louder. And while bruises and contusions were still very visible on her face and arm, the woman's breathing didn't seem nearly as labored.

Staggering slightly, Max moved around the bed and toward the door. One down, one to go, he thought.

Room 126 was two rooms down, and Max again checked the charts to be certain he was in the correct place. "Shania Janet Cameron." This was the right room, but the door to this one was already open.

Max stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room was much like the other had been, except that there was a bag and some personal effects near a bedside chair. The girl in the bed was less externally bruised than the Dobbs woman had been, but Max could sense that her internal traumas were far worse.

She appeared to be sixteen or so, about the age Liz had been when he'd saved her at the Crashdown. He took her hand, as he had done with Denise Dobbs, and began sending his energy outward, his own limb the conduit.

As his mind reached out to link with the girl's, Max was surprised to find himself seeing not flashes of her life, but instead seeing himself inserted into some kind of static, stable mental setting. He was in a grand cathedral or temple of some sort, wooden pews stretching out nearly to infinity in front of him and behind him. Ornate stained-glass windows arced high above, raining multicolored light down on him as if he were in a kaleidoscope.

Near the front of the cathedral a girl knelt in prayer. What she faced, though, was not a crucified figure of Christ in agony, but a smiling, comforting statue of Jesus, his arms outstretched and his robes swirling about him.

As Max approached, the girl turned. He was startled to see that it was Shania, the girl in the hospital bed. The girl he was healing even now. Max couldn't recall a time when he had seen a manifestation of the person he was healing while he was doing so; usually, he saw through their eyes.

"I'm not ready to go," Shania said, her tone slightly defiant. "There are a lot of things I haven't done yet. “

Max knelt next to her. "I'm not here to take you away, Shania," he said softly. "I'm here to take you back. “

"Back? “

"Back to life. Back to reality," Max said, holding out his hand toward her.

She didn't take it. "How do I know you're here to help me?" she asked.

Max wasn't sure how to answer that. He looked around for inspiration. "Well, you were praying, right? And I arrived. I'm here, in the church. And I'm not recoiling from all this religious imagery, so I'm not some devil or something. “

"True," Shania said, clearly weighing Max's words. "So you're saying you were sent by God to answer my prayers? “

"Not exactly." Max was uncomfortable. He wasn't sure he believed in God, or at least the one that many Earth religions espoused. But he didn't want to cause any rifts in the girl's metaphysical mindscape by getting into a theological debate.

"I'm here because what happened to you yesterday afternoon was wrong, and I want to right that wrong," he said simply, hoping it would be enough.

She considered his words for a moment, then her face brightened. "Okay, I can accept that." Taking his hand, she rose to her feet.

They began to walk down the aisle through the colored lights, toward the vaulted doors that loomed in the far-off distance. "It's very pretty here," Max said.

She smiled serenely. "Just like I imagined it would… “

A loud noise interrupted her, and a harsh voice echoed from in front of Max. "What the hell are you doing with my sister? “

Max felt himself pulled away from Shania's hand, sucked back into his own body in an instant. The dimness of the hospital room was a stark contrast to the colorfully bright cathedral he'd found in the injured girl's mind. It took him a moment to focus his eyes enough to see a twenty-something woman standing next to the opened door of the room. Her expression was guarded but slightly hostile.

"I asked you a question," she said. "What the hell are you doing with my sister? “

"Can we get some help here, please?" Isabel called out. Kyle was leaning on her, and she struggled to keep him on his feet. He wasn't exactly light.

A male nurse stood up from where he was sitting with Liz in the waiting area. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"My boyfriend just got really dizzy and passed out," Isabel said. "And he's having trouble breathing. “

"Let's get him over here," the nurse said, pointing toward an area that had several gurneys and hanging curtains. He took one arm, and helped move Kyle.

Isabel was about to say a "thank you" to Kyle, when a burly security guard stepped up beside her and grabbed the other arm. "Let me help you there, miss," he said.

"Thanks," Isabel stammered. Where had he come from? How many other guards were patrolling the hospital? She and Kyle had watched from the outside as Liz and Maria had performed their distractions, and no guards or orderlies had been evident.

As the nurse pulled up Kyle's shirt, he put a stethoscope to the young man's chest. "Breathe in, breathe out. Not so deep. Okay, that's fine." He let the stethoscope go, and it bobbed on the rubber cords that connected its earpieces. Taking a penlight, he lifted one of Kyle's eyelids and shone the light into his eye.

"Have you been drinking, or taken any drugs tonight?" he asked.

"No, sir," Kyle said, each word punctuated by a breath.

"Is he going to be okay?" Isabel asked.

"I don't hear anything in his chest, and his pupils are responsive. How did this happen? “

Isabel did her best to blush. "We were… making out in the car, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. “

The guard standing nearby smirked, and the nurse nodded. "Just kissing," the nurse asked, "or something more… strenuous? “

Isabel was both amused and interested in the question. At times, she had been attracted to Kyle, but she never would have acted on those feelings, especially now that she was married. But the nurse didn't know that, and they were buying Max time. "Well, you know, we weren't doing the freak or anything like that, if that's what you mean. “

As she looked toward Kyle, Isabel saw his eyes suddenly widen. She realized that he was looking past her at something. At the same time, his breathing started getting ragged.

"He's doing it again!" Isabel said, concern in her voice. What is Kyle up to? And then she heard Kyle's voice in her head. Do anything you have to do to distract them. We're on the TV news! As the nurse started treating Kyle, Isabel let out a wail and flung herself at the security guard. "I don't want to lose him! Help him, please! “

The guard put his arms around her protectively. "It's okay, miss. The nurse will be able to help your friend. Why don't we go over here to the waiting area? “

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabel saw Maria returning to the front area just as Liz hopped up to the counter to distract the female nurse.

"I'll be fine. I just want to stay with Randy," Isabel said, giving the guard the most plaintive, puppy-dog look she could muster.

Max had better hurry up, Isabel thought. There don't appear to be any other emergencies tonight, and I don't know how much longer our distractions can work. Especially when our faces are all over the cable news channels.

Max put up a hand, palm outward, to calm the woman who had just entered the room. "I'm here to help, Ms. Cameron." He hadn't seen a wedding ring on the woman's hand, so he'd guessed that she still shared her younger sister's name.

"Who are you? You don't look like a nurse or a doctor." Shania Cameron's sister looked at him with obvious suspicion. "Give me one good reason not to call security right this second. “

"I'm trying to help your sister. I was… “

"She's in a coma," the woman said sharply. "How exactly were you going to "help' her? “

Max struggled to come up with an explanation, but wasn't sure that he could.

"Lisa?" The voice was tremulous and weak, but Max recognized it as the girl from the church. He looked down and was elated to see she was awake. He also realized he was still holding her hand.

"Shanny! Oh, you're awake!" Relief flooded the woman's features. She moved over to the bed and squeezed her sister's other hand.

"He helped me," Shania said weakly. "He was in my mind, and he helped lead me back out. “

"What do you mean, baby?" Lisa asked. She was still looking at Max with mistrust.

Shania took a deep breath and offered a wobbly smile. "I think he's an angel. “

Max was about to correct her, when he heard Kyle's voice in his head. Do anything you have to do to distract them. We're on the TV news! Shania looked at him questioningly. "What does he mean, you're on the news? “

"What does who mean?" Lisa asked, and then Max saw something register in her eyes. "You're one of them, aren't you? 1 thought you looked familiar. You're one of the guys from the mall. “

"Things aren't always what they seem," Max said. "I can't explain, but whatever or whoever you think I am, you're wrong. I came here to help your sister. “

"You're the reason she's here," Lisa said, sounding defensive. "The car she was in got hit while the police were chasing you. “

Shania grabbed at her sister's arm. "He helped me come back, Lisa. Don't yell at him. “

"So, what, you came in here and healed her somehow?" Lisa asked. "Is that it? Did you help that other woman, too? “

Max just stared at her blankly. Anything I say will only make her angrier. Better to let her jump to her own conclusions. "Please, just let me leave in peace," Max said quietly. "I've helped your sister, and now I have other things to do. “

"What, like running from the law?" Her voice was full of anger. Max assumed most of it was not specifically because of him, but rather a product of all the emotional trauma she had faced during the previous day.

Max gave the girl's hand a squeeze and let it go. "Be good, Shania. Do all the things you planned to do." He paused for a moment, then decided to warn her. "You'll want to be sure they don't examine your palm until it stops glowing. Otherwise, they might put you under the same scrutiny they've put me. “

Shania lifted her hand and saw that its palm was glowing a faint silver. She looked beyond it as Max stepped toward the door. "Thank you," she said simply.

Max stepped out into the corridor, and a moment later Lisa followed him. "I suppose I should thank you too, but this isn't over for us, you know?" she said. "Even if they don't find out whatever this glowing-hand thing is, we're still in trouble. “

"What do you mean? “

"We don't have very good insurance," she said. "We lost the car today, and these hospital bills are going to cripple us. So while you're off running from the cops, think about the problems you've caused for my family. “

"I'm truly sorry," Max said. As he walked away from her, he could feel her gaze burning into his back.

Isabel felt intense relief once she and Kyle finally got out of the building and away from the blather of the cable news channel that had just broadcast their faces all over the country.

Perhaps twenty minutes after having entered the hospital, she and Kyle joined Maria, Liz, and Max in the hospital parking lot.

"Sorry about the delay," Kyle said. "They didn't want to let me out of there without taking all my insurance information first. I told them it was an Antarian policy. “

Isabel snorted. "He did not." Turning to Maria quickly, she said, "Don't tell Michael he said that, even as a joke." She knew how little humor Michael found in all matters alien.

Maria raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a busy time in there due to drunk-driver wrecks?" Kyle asked.

"Guess we picked the wrong night," Liz said, frustration in her voice.

"So, how did everything go in there, Max?" Isabel asked.

"Fine. Both of them are healed," Max said gruffly. "I got caught by the younger one's sister, but she got distracted from calling security when Shania woke up from her coma. “

"That's great," Liz said, squeezing his arm.

Isabel could tell that something else was eating at Max. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," he said, too quickly. "I'm just exhausted. You know how much healing people drains me. “

"Liz could use her electrical powers to give you a jump-start," Maria said, a smile on her face.

Liz gave her a shocked look, and Kyle snickered.

Maria blushed. "I did not mean that in any kind of a sleazy way. “

"Uh-huh, sure," Kyle said, teasing. "But you just might have given new meaning to the term 'sparking.' “

As they walked back toward the Microbus, Isabel caught her brother's eyes for a moment. What she saw in them wasn't just exhaustion, though that was clearly there, in spades.

He's haunted, she thought. And from the look of things, this is one ghost that even our little Scooby Gang might have trouble getting rid of.

Very slowly and painfully, Ava swam back to consciousness. Her limbs and head felt heavy, as though encased in something viscous, like honey. When she opened her eyes, bright lights dazzled them.

Where am I? she thought, squinting against the glare.

Ava opened and closed her eyes repeatedly until they adjusted to the brilliance. Feeling marginally stronger, she began moving her limbs experimentally.

She discovered she was sitting in a narrow, padded seat, both of her arms secured by stainless-steel handcuffs to the chairs arms. Identical seats were arranged in rows before her, behind her, and on either side in the otherwise empty cabin. The carpeted floor beneath her feet vibrated, and she could both hear and feel the resonant subwoofer hum of large jet engines.

An airplane. They've loaded us onto an airplane. Ava had never been aboard a plane before. Even when she, Rath and Lonnie had left New York for Roswell immediately after Zan's murder, they had traveled by car. And she had continued traveling exclusively by car… in a series of other people's vehicles, actually… for many months following her lovers death. She had wandered the country then, trying to sort out her ambivalent feelings toward Rath and Lonnie, the two members of the Royal Four who had conspired to throw Zan into the path of a truck back on that horrible day, when her life had spun utterly out of her control…

And I'm every bit as guilty as they are, Ava thought. I didn't even lift a finger to save Zan. I just froze when they killed him, the way I always do whenever things go south. She considered the cuffs that bound her to her seat. I'm probably getting what I deserve. Those government guys will cut me open to see what makes me tick. Maybe after it's all over, I'll see Zan again. And the other Ava, the one from Roswell.

Hot tears stung her eyes as memories of the past two years continued spooling past her. She remembered how she'd survived being alone on the road by discreetly obtaining transportation, meals, and lodging from people she encountered along the way, courtesy of her mindwarp abilities. She'd never influenced anyone to give her any more than they could afford, and therefore had managed not to rouse much unwanted attention before moving on to obtain aid from her next "sponsor. “

Ava had been sitting in a dingy little roadside diner somewhere in Ohio, grieving Zan, when she'd felt the fiery death of her other self… Tess, as her alter ego had called herself. When Rath and Lonnie had taken Ava to Roswell just before the big alien summit meeting that had followed Zan's death, she and Tess had evidently forged a subtle psychic connection.

The psychic flash Ava had endured at the precise moment of Tess's demise… a vicarious empathic experience that had seemed more real to her than even her most vivid dreams of Zan and Antar… had convinced her that she could no longer survive entirely on her own, a destitute half-alien waif with no one to lean on except for those whom she coerced into giving her aid and comfort. She realized that the surviving members of Antar's Royal Four needed one another, regardless of which set of them, if any, were the "real deal," as Rath liked to say. Just as Tess's preordained place had been with her own podmates, Max, Isabel, and Michael… Roswell 's version of the Royal Four… so, too, did Ava belong among her own kind.

This understanding had come to her as she'd walked alongside the median strip of a lonely stretch of highway, considering the aftermath of Tess's demise while watching the cars that flew past her in either direction. Ava knew it would be a simple matter to mindwarp any one of the drivers into stopping for her, and taking her in whatever direction she wanted to go.

The only question that remained then was, Which way? She knew that her heart still belonged to Zan, and that it always would. But Zan was dead, and the closest facsimile was a New Mexico teenager named Max Evans. Like her, this other Zan was now facing life without his predestined soulmate; Tess, the Roswell Zan's Ava, was gone, just as her own Zan was.

I could go to Roswell and have my Zan again, and he can have his Tess, she told herself as the traffic continued to whiz past, every car an opportunity, each direction a gateway to a unique life that would exclude the possibility of any other. One of those directions led eastward, back toward New York. The other would eventually wind southwestward to Roswell. And Zan.

But even as these thoughts swirled through her mind, she'd known that trying to hold on to Zan this way was wrong. She had seen the way the other Zan… or rather Max… had looked at the slight, dark-haired girl he'd called Liz.

He wasn't Zan. It was clear that he had long since established a destiny of its own.

A destiny that did not include Ava. She wondered if Tess had seen that. If that had been the reason Tess had died… or had been killed. The explosive psychic flash Ava had experienced wasn't been clear on that score.

So she began then, reluctantly, to accept that she would never sway Max's heart the way she had captured Zan's. And even though she knew she could never forgive or forget Rath and Lonnie for what they had taken from her, she was also aware that they were all she truly had in this world.

That day she had forever turned her back on whatever roads led to Roswell. There was only one path left for her to take, even though she knew it would lead her right back to Zan's killers.

Ava let go of her remembrances and returned to the present. She listened to the deep thrum of the jet engines and looked down at the cuffs that restrained her. Shame warmed her face. Maybe if I'd taken the other road that day, none of this would have happened. Maybe everything that's gone wrong now is because of me. Those Antarian-possessed freaks and the cops and the Men in Black swarmed all over us, and I just let it happen.

Just like with Zan.

Then Ava's shame changed temperature and texture, morphing into a dull red… red anger that finally came into balance with her omnipresent fear. She'd finally had enough of being a victim.

She concentrated, trying to focus her powers onto her bonds.

Nothing. The handcuffs on her wrists remained as solid as ever. The only reward she got for her efforts was a sudden dizzy, headachy feeling. She hadn't felt so lightheaded since the first time Zan had taken her to a rave. All four of them had had quite a bit to drink that night; they'd all learned the hard way just how powerfully alcohol affected their half-alien systems. The MiBs must have drugged me, she thought.

Closing her eyes again in the hopes that her head would clear soon, Ava wondered what had become of Rath and Lonnie. Had they gotten away? From just before she'd lost consciousness in the hands of the MiBs, she vaguely remembered Rath's attempt to rescue her and Lonnie. If he only had a chance to free one of us, he would have picked Lonnie. So maybe I'm the only one the bad guys managed to hang on to.

"Morning, Your Majesty," came a voice from behind her, startling her out of her anxious ruminations.

It was Rath.

She turned in her seat as much as the unyielding cuffs permitted. She saw that Rath was seated several rows behind her, no doubt drugged and handcuffed as well. She figured his head must have been slumped forward in the seat earlier, or she would have seen him when she'd taken her first look around the planes cabin.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, Rath!" Ava's tongue felt clumsy in her mouth. The drugs, she thought.

"Sorry," Rath said, grinning without any evident humor. "I just woke up from a catnap. You looked like you needed some company." His speech, too, was slurred by whatever the feds had pumped into his veins.

"Where's Lonnie?" Ava wanted to know.

Before Rath could say anything, Ava heard a moan coming from a few rows behind Rath. They both turned sideways as far as they could, and Ava saw a bleary-eyed Lonnie getting slowly upright in her seat. Blinking in the harsh cabin lights, she seemed unaware of where she was, as well as unable to speak. Almost zombielike, Lonnie stared out an unshaded oval window at whatever lay beyond their flying prison.

Which prompted Ava to ask, "Where are they taking us?" Her own window shade was almost all the way down, and she was seated too close to the aisle to reach it.

Rath nodded toward his own window, whose shade was all the way open, though all Ava could make out from beyond the double-layered Plexiglas was a sliver of bright blue sky.

"Judging from the lay of the land, I'd say we're heading for L.A.," Rath said.

" Los Angeles?" Ava said, frowning.

"Yup. Swimmin' pools. Movie stars. Probably gonna be on the ground pretty soon. “

Ava thought of Langley, the first alien they had met from their home world, and their sometimes "protector." He had worked for the last several years as a television producer. On the rare occasions when any of them had heard from Langley, he had explained that his main goal in working in Hollywood was to gather wealth and power, which would make him better able to protect them.

It was, after all, Langley 's job to keep them out of situations like this one.

A sudden flicker of hope warmed Ava. Had Langley subtly influenced the feds into bringing them right to his doorstep? Maybe he was secretly planning to rescue them.

True to Rath's prediction, the jet touched down a few minutes later, jouncing slightly just before the engines went into reverse to slow the plane down. The sudden deceleration threw Ava forward in her seat, and she had to grab the arms of her seat to keep the cuffs from biting into her skin. The plane stopped, and a charged silence fell across the cabin for several minutes.

"The service is lousy on these alien-class flights," Rath muttered. "You'd think Uncle Sugar could spring for a bag of peanuts, at least. “

Ava ignored him, concentrating instead on the sounds she heard coming from the front of the cabin, just beyond the first-class curtains. Footfalls.

When the curtains opened a moment later, Ava half expected to see the face of their occasional protector.

Instead several hard-faced men in black suits entered the cabin. Guns drawn, they marched purposefully toward the three incapacitated teens.

Feeling naked with her powers knocked out, Ava tried to shrink down into her seat, making herself as small as possible, the way she did whenever Rath and Lonnie browbeat her into going along with whatever they planned to do. All of the helplessness she had felt when she'd watched Zan die came flooding back to her. She wondered if this, too, was an effect of the drugs she'd been given.

And she silently cursed herself for having been foolish enough to hope for rescue, from Langley or anyone else.

So far, so good, Special Agent Matthew Margolin thought.

The armored car and the motorized stairway met them on the tarmac, just as the agents hustled their three prisoners toward the open hatches at the front of the plane.

"I don't get it, Viceroy," Dale Bartolli said, pitching his voice so that no one but Margolin could hear him. "We go to all the trouble of requisitioning a black-windowed car to take them to the West Coast interrogation facility. But on the way to L.A. we let them look out the windows. “

Margolin smiled at his lieutenant, enjoying for a moment the momentary absence of Bartolli's customary sly, wolfish expression. "Just a little mind game, Dale. “

"Those kids are alien beings of some sort, and they have some extraordinary powers," Bartolli said. "We can't afford to take any chances with them. Christ, we aren't even sure yet how many duplicates of them are running around loose. “

"Maybe that's something they'll shed some light on for us," Margolin said. "Particularly if we keep them off balance psychologically." He imagined that this was a condition with which Bartolli was well acquainted.

"We should have taken them to a secure military facility “

Margolin appreciated Bartolli's thorough attention to his duties, but he sometimes thought the man lacked both a certain flair and the good sense not to question his superiors too much. This was such a time.

"They're drugged and therefore disoriented," Margolin said, fixing his deputy with what he calculated to be a dangerous stare. "They're young and therefore relatively easy to intimidate. It's important that they know how completely we've pulled their claws. It's important that they know we're not frightened of them. Just as it's important that you follow my orders. “

Margolin wasn't expecting Bartolli to cower; the man simply wasn't made that way. But he also wasn't expecting what Bartolli said next.

"Understood, sir. Just remember that while success has a thousand fathers, failure is always an orphan. “

Margolin glowered. "What's that supposed to mean? “

Bartolli's dark, predatory eyes took on the businesslike aspect of an undertaker measuring a still-living prospective client for a pine box. "I'm just pointing out that the director will no doubt reward you handsomely if our alien-capture ops all go as per plan. But if they don't, your corner office just might be getting a new tenant soon. “

With that, Bartolli turned and followed the prisoners and their guards to the forward hatch. He hadn't bothered to wait for either a reply or a dismissal.

Alone inside the jet, Margolin shivered involuntarily, as though someone had just stepped on his grave.

Ever since he had awakened on board the jet and discovered that he'd been both drugged and handcuffed, Rath had been thinking as rapidly as his fogged mind would allow.

He considered how oddly rested he felt after the long cross-country flight. If not for all the drugs in his system, he felt he'd be ready to take on the world.

Rath also thought about Zan's healing powers, and about how he'd tried to develop similar abilities of his own. As Zan's military adviser back on Antar, Rath had understood well the value of battlefield medicine. Unfortunately, he'd never attained anything like Zan's proficiency at direct wound-healing; Rath had concluded that this was a talent that required a fundamentally nobler worldview than he possessed.

But Rath had gotten pretty good at neutralizing infectious bioweapons, battlefield toxins, and poisons.

And narcotics.

Rath concentrated first on ordering and focusing his thoughts, at least as much as the junk in his bloodstream would allow. It was difficult at first, like trying to start a fire with nothing more than a pair of wet sticks. But somewhere at the center of his mind, his powers began to spark and smolder. The toxins in his blood responded by clumping together like a multivehicle crash on the highway, stopping and thereby rendering themselves harmless. As his faculties gradually returned, the process accelerated.

He knew that the hard part would be hiding his renewed strength from his captors.

"Move it," said the hard-faced agent who stood almost nose to nose with him shortly after the jet had landed.

Standing in the aisle with Ava ahead of him and Lonnie behind… all of them surrounded by a half-dozen armed MiBs… Rath slowly moved toward the jetway. It took a real effort not to smile as he descended the stairs behind Ava, grabbing the railing to make himself appear weaker than he truly was.

Less than a minute later he stood on the tarmac, watching as several agents pushed a disoriented-looking Ava toward the armored vehicle that awaited them. They had to holster their weapons momentarily as they did so, leaving only three guns trained on both Rath and Lonnie.

The odds were as good as they were ever going to get.

Rath concentrated intensely for a moment, and his wrists glowed like shooting stars. His handcuffs dropped away as he spun toward the agents, raised his hands, and let fly with several tightly focused energy blasts.

As Michael drove the Microbus back toward the hotel where they had left their belongings, Liz looked over at Max. Something was definitely wrong. But he didn't want to talk about it, so she wasn't going to press the issue. Yet.

"So our pictures are on the news then?" Michael asked.

"Just the three of us guys," Kyle said. "They weren't very good shots, though. Looked like they were taken from a security camera at the clothing store or something. It would be hard for anyone to identify us from them. “

"I don't get it," Maria said. "If they want the word out about us, why don't they just release the pictures they have of us from Roswell? “

"What if they don't want word out about us?" Liz asked. "I mean, the Special Unit doesn't seem to want its agenda known to the public. Think how ridiculous they'd sound if they told your average American, 'Aliens are living among you, and they're teenagers.' So, what do they have to gain by releasing information about us? “

Michael nodded, a slight grin on his face as he looked back at them. "Liz has a point. They don't have any reason to expose us. But the media and the local cops don't know that. So maybe these reports came from them. After all, what happened in the mall was pretty public. It's not like it would be easy to cover that up. Even for Special Unit spooks. “

Liz nodded. "It would explain why the news pictures looked like security-camera screen captures instead of photos. “

"We haven't heard enough of the news yet to see if anybody's talking about your astounding displays of power," Maria added. Then, to Michael, she said, "Hey, Spaceboy, eyes on the road. We don't need to get pulled over right now.

"Jesse didn't mention anything about people discussing our powers," Isabel said. "According to him, the news was pretty vague about the details. “

Liz looked over at Max. He was still brooding. Not that brooding was anything new for him, but he seemed to have gone even deeper into the darkness than usual.

"Maybe we can find out more at the hotel," Kyle said. "At least we can watch TV while we pack. “

"No," Max said clearly, speaking for the first time since the hospital parking lot. "We get in, get our stuff, and get gone. No time for showers or TV or snacks. “

"If we even can get our stuff," Isabel said from the front passenger seat. "We don't know that they aren't waiting there for us. “

"No, but we're going to find out pretty soon," Michael said. "I'm parking behind the restaurant up here. The hotel is on the other side of the block. If they're watching for us, we'll stand a better chance of ditching them on foot. “

As Michael parked the van, Isabel said, "I'm staying here. I've got an idea that might help us. And get us more information. “

"What's that?" Max asked.

Isabel grinned and held up the I.D. badges and wallets of the government agents who had tasered them in the corridors. "I'm going dreamwalking. “

Agent Frank Kaneko had returned to his duplex that evening dog-tired. His wife already knew he was physically all right; following the altercation he had faced at the mall that afternoon, he had called her to allay any fears she might have if she'd heard the news. He made his best effort to assure her he was emotionally all right, as well as physically four-square.

But he wasn't.

Something about the operation today didn't smell right. From the time his squad had received their orders to scramble to the moment he'd picked himself up off the floor in the back corridor of the mall, unease had sat heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Afterward, he and the other agents there had been debriefed and were ordered not to discuss the matter with anyone, even one another. He was certain they all had questions, and it would just be a matter of time before one of them brought the subject up with a colleague. But right now, it was best to keep one's mouth shut. There were some other kind of spooks involved… he didn't know if they were Bureau, CIA, special ops, or something else… and even with only five years on the job, Kaneko knew better than to mess with mysteries.

But the situation refused to leave his mind. He had been among the group approaching from the side when the muscular young man had exited the internet cafe and pushed a heavy concrete garbage can at them, scattering most of them like tenpins. Kaneko hadn't lost his footing, though he'd been momentarily startled to see the windows of the Internet place clouding over darkly, as if by an invis- ible can of spray paint.

He and an agent named Pelner had doubled back and moved through a plus-size clothing store a few doors down. Initially, they'd planned to see if they could go through a back corridor and enter the Internet cafe that way, but instead they had come into direct contact with three of the fleeing targets.

Pelner had tasered two of the girls before they could react; orders had been very specific that guns were not to be used. Trank darts, gas, tasers, or other immobilization techniques were the only acceptable options. The teens in question were reportedly armed and dangerous.

As Pelner had advanced on the third girl, Kaneko knelt to check the status of the two unconscious girls. For a] moment, he was concerned that the girls might have been innocent bystanders… employees scared by the conflict in the mall… but then he'd recognized them from the pictures the office had gotten along with the alert.

The third girl finally got down onto the floor as ordered, and while Pelner kept the trank gun trained on her, Kaneko had cuffed her. As far as he could see, none of the girls were armed, nor did they seem very dangerous. But he knew that looks could be deceiving, and it was anyone's guess what horrors lay in the minds of these three.

Kaneko had planned to cuff the other two unconscious girls and call in with his cell phone, but a noise down the hall drew his attention. That was when three young males rounded a corner, coming toward them.

The next minute was a blur, and even now, Kaneko didn't know whether to believe his eyes… and his body… or not. At one point during the stand-off he had heard a shout in his head; someone calling for an Isabel to wake up. Moments later, one of the unconscious girls had awakened, and somehow slammed Pelner into a wall.

And then, the cuffed girl had kicked him in the leg, making him feel as though he'd just been struck by lightning.

Ten minutes later, when he had finally regained consciousness, he saw many of the other agents picking themselves out of a maze of concrete and steel rubble a floor beneath them. A local deputy named Duane Elkins had been hurt the most, when a metal support bar had punctured his leg in the fall; most of the rest of them had just been scraped or bruised when the floor had collapsed underneath them.

No one knew how or why the floor had given way, nor how the cafe's windows had changed from transparent to black, nor how the clothing store's windows had blown out. Compared to those questions, the mystery of how the unarmed, cuffed girl had electro-shocked him into unconsciousness was small potatoes.

After much tossing and turning, he had taken a trip to the kitchen for a nip or two of Maker's Mark. The bourbon helped him sleep on particularly stressful days. Now he finally drifted into slumber.

His dreams were… as always… a barely lucid hodgepodge of scenes from recent events and conversations, snippets of television shows, and random elements swirling up from his subconscious. Kaneko was rarely able to make sense of his dreams, even when he awoke and wrote them in his dream diaries. A few times, some nugget of dream-delivered information had spurred him to recall a forgotten detail, enabling him to use it to help resolve a case. But those times were few and far between.

Now events from the day at the mall began to replay in his dreaming mind, though they were disarrayed, like an incident report whose pages had been shuffled into random order. But this time, as he knelt to check the status of the taller girl who had been tasered, Kaneko found that their positions were reversed. He was the one lying on the cold concrete, and she was kneeling over him instead.

"Frank Kaneko, do you know who I am?" the girl asked. She seemed to glow with a silver aura. She was beautiful, but he could tell she was fierce as well.

"You're the fugitive from the report." As he answered her, the scenery shifted, and he was in an all-white room, strapped to a table in the center. A bright light shone on him from above.

She was now in different clothing, and the leather pants and dark red top showed off her figure. "But you don't know my name? “

"No," he replied. "The report just told us to apprehend you and five others. It didn't specify who you were or what you had done. “

"Who issued the report? “

Frank struggled against his bonds, and saw that they weren't like any binding material he had ever seen before. Instead of rope or steel or canvas, these seemed to be composed of energy. "Why am I being held? Why are you interrogating me? How are you interrogating me? "This is a dream," the girl said. "Don't you know that? I'm not really here, and you aren't really tied up. I'm a figment of your subconscious mind, a part of your guilty conscience." She leaned over toward him. He felt her soft breath on his face, and looked into her beautiful brown eyes. "You do feel guilty about today, don't you? “

"Yes," he agreed, then recalled his duty. "No. Why should I? “

"You don't know what we did, or who we were, or why we were wanted. Doesn't that bother you? “

He nodded. "A bit. But I had my orders. “

She suddenly snapped a riding crop against her leg. It cracked loudly on her leather pants. "I was just following orders. Where has that phrase been heard before? “

Frank looked around at his environment, watching it change. He recognized the fences and the wood and tar-paper barracks and shacks that housed them all, saw hundreds of the Japanese men, women, and children who lived there. His grandparents had lived there, had met there. The internment camps. His grandmother was a Nisei, second-generation Japanese-American. His grandfather was classified as Kibei, a member of the American-born second generation who was schooled in Japan, and thus was more suspect.

After the war, when they had been released back into society, his grandparents had gotten married. They had passed down to all their children and grandchildren the stories and photos of the camps, sharing with them the feeling of helplessness as the government to which they had been loyal branded them as dangerous, confiscated their possessions, and forced them into confinement.

" Colorado River Relocation Center. This is where they met," he told the girl, who was now in a military uniform. "Why are we here? “

"You know the answer to that better than I do," she said. "Something about today reminded you of this place. “

Seeing that he was no longer bound to the table, he rose and approached the girl. "What did you do? Why are they hunting you? “

"I tried to live my life," she said. "Certain people felt I shouldn't be allowed to live my life in freedom, so they began hunting me and my friends. “

"But you had to have done something" he said, though he wasn't at all sure that she had.

"We didn't do anything until they attacked us. And then, we only defended ourselves from harm." Her eyes narrowed. "You tried to harm us today. We defended ourselves. Wouldn't you have done the same for your family? Or would you have let them take you here… or someplace worse?" The walls of the camp barracks all turned white, and the sun grew brighter in the sky.

Something about the girl's statements made sense, and yet, it all seemed vague. "The report we got about you came in from a special branch of intelligence," Kaneko said. "I don't know what section it came from, just that they had high-level clearance. It wasn't very specific about who you were or why you were wanted, but it did tell us not to shoot you. “

She laughed. "Well, I guess there's something positive. So what happened afterward? “

"Some men came and debriefed us. They were with that high-level intelligence group. No one I recognized. No one I really wanted to see again. “

They were in a canyon then, in the desert. Someplace he had seen before in the Southwest, though he couldn't quite place it. A large spire of rock jutted off at an angle up the hill on a cliff. The girl stood on a nearby rock, her head framed by the night sky, a constellation of five stars serving as a crown. "Show me those men," she said.

He wasn't sure what she meant, but then the men appeared against the rock spire, their images projected a hundred feet tall, as if from some colossal movie projector. Though their lips moved, they were silent.

The girl studied each of them, as if memorizing their faces. When the images faded, she turned back toward Frank. "Was that all of them?" she asked.

"Yes. How did you… “

"Did they say anything about anyone else other than the six of us?" She stared at him again, her cool brown eyes now darkened almost to black.

"Not that I can remember. “

"Did they mention anything about Boston, or Roswell? “

At the last word, Frank remembered where he had seen the desert before. His family had driven through New Mexico when he was ten. Although they hadn't taken any photos, the inspiring terrain had stuck in his mind.

"No, they didn't mention either one of those places," he said. "But I've been to Roswell before. “

Her eyes flashed. "When? “

"When I was ten. We were going to California. Daddy got a flat tire in Roswell. We got to get ice cream while it was getting fixed." He smiled at the memory.

The girl nodded. "Okay. Let's get back to today. You're a federal agent. You're trained to notice unusual things. Was there anything else these men said to you that made you suspicious? “

He thought for a moment, and then another memory flashed. "They were very clear that they wanted all the surveillance tapes of what happened from the mall. I don't expect they were happy that some of them got leaked out to the news. But I don't know why. If you're so dangerous, shouldn't they be alerting everyone? “

"That's a good question, Agent Kaneko. Maybe we're not the ones who are dangerous. Maybe it's the men who are hunting us." She leaned in closer to him, and her eyes were fully black now, and wider. He could see an infinitude of tiny stars reflected on them… no, seemingly existing in them… with five stars shining infinitely brighter than all the others.

He blinked slowly, and, as he opened his eyes, he saw that the woman was gone. He was looking up at the ceiling, lying in his bed at home, the comforter thrown onto the floor. He could hear his wife breathing softly beside him as she slept.

The words of the dream girl came back to him. You tried to harm us today. We defended ourselves. Wouldn't you have done the same for your family? Something else gnawed at him. There was an important connection somewhere in his dream. He just had to make it.

Although he wouldn't say it out loud, even Michael had to admit that everything had gone smoothly at the hotel. As far as they could tell, there were no guards at the perimeter, no one surveilling their rooms, and no one had rifled through their belongings. They quickly packed and left the rooms as easily as they had arrived, leaving their keys behind on the bedside tables.

They were almost back to the Microbus when Max motioned Michael over. Liz apparently took the hint, and moved forward to walk with Kyle and Maria.

"What's up?" Michael asked.

"There's one more thing we need to do before we leave town," Max said. "And I need your help to pull it off. “

Michael was about to sigh heavily, but held back. He'd give Max the benefit of the doubt first. "What do you need? “

"I need you to pump up the rest of our money," Max said. "Turn the twenties into fifties. I'm taking as much as we can spare back to the hospital. “

Now Michael did sigh heavily "What for, Maxwell? You've already healed those people. What, now we need to make a donation to your favorite charity as well? “

Max gave him one of his patented I'm disappointed in you, Michael looks before replying. "We haven't done right by those people who got hurt because of us. Shania Cameron's family is facing medical bills they can't pay and… “

Michael stopped in his tracks, and half a step later Max did as well. "Maxwell, let's take stock here. We got attacked today. Somehow they tracked us down, and they very nearly captured all of us. They had your wife in cuffs, and they tasered my… Maria and your sister. We're on the run, we're tired, and we're hungry. We're counterfeiting money and living in a van and hotels, and none of us have lives to speak of anymore. Don't you think it's time to start thinking about what we need to be safe? Or are you still as blind to trouble as you apparently were on Antar?" Max's eyes flashed angrily for a moment, but Michael also saw in them a sense of sadness that seemed to overwhelm the momentary rage. "Michael, you're right. I just want to do this one thing. And then we can get out of town and maybe find a safe haven somewhere. “

"Or maybe we take the fight back to them," Michael suggested.

"Yeah, that worked so well for Tess," Max said, his expression deadpan, but his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm just saying that maybe there isn't a peaceful way out of this for us. “

Max put his hand on Michael's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "Let's do this one thing, and then we'll get out of here. “

Michael took a deep breath through his nose, then let it out slowly through his mouth. Then another breath, in and out again. It was a calming technique that Maria had tried to teach him. Sometimes, it even worked. Finally he nodded his assent, and Max smiled. But inwardly, Michael was not as calm as his exterior suggested. What future is Max leading us to? And will any of us survive to see it? Topeka, Kansas Suzanne Duff awoke with a start, her eyes focusing on the blinking LED lights on the alarm clock on the hotel night-stand. Even in the relative darkness of the room, she could see the ringing cell phone behind the clock, and she picked it up. "Hello? “

The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, but' her mind wasn't quite awake enough to immediately iec-ognize it. "Agent Duff? “

"Yes, this is Agent Duff," she said. "Who's this? “

"It's Frank Kaneko, Suzanne. “

No wonder his voice had sounded familiar. She and Kaneko had gone through Quantico together, and had even dated, twice. But she hadn't seen him for at least a year. They had run into each other at an event in Washington, D.C., and spent several hours at a juice bar, reminiscing about their school days and discussing the various cases they had worked since.

"What can I do for you, Frank? It's 4:17 in the morning, you know. “

"I know," he said in hushed tones. "I'm sorry to wake you, but something weird happened today, and for some reason, you came to mind. “

"Go on," she said, stifling a yawn.

"I'm working out of the Cheyenne, Wyoming, office right now, and we got a very strange alert today. “

Duff's mind almost immediately switched to a fully alert mode. "XMA-94? “

Kaneko sounded surprised. "You know about it? “

"Yeah, I saw a file on it." Duff's mind raced, and she carefully considered her question. "Why are you calling me? What connection do you think I have to it? “

"This is going to sound very strange," Kaneko said, his tone almost apologetic, "but it has something to do with a dream I had. I had contact with three of the suspects in the alert today, and tonight, I dreamed about one of them. A girl. There were elements in my dream that didn't connect, but one of them did somehow. Roswell. “

Suddenly more awake, Duff sat up in bed, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "Go on. “

"Well, 1 remember you talking about a case in Roswell you worked a while back. An abduction or kidnapping case. You didn't tell me very much about it, but for some reason, when I thought about Roswell after I woke up this morning, your name was the only one that came to my mind. “

The feelings of unease that Duff had experienced earlier in the day began to return, fluttering at the edge of her thoughts. Somehow, she was being drawn back into the realm of the Roswell teens with the unusual powers.

"Frank, I want you to tell me everything that happened today. Everything. No matter how weird it was. “

Margolin didn't relish having to listen to Bartolli right now. Or even having to look at him.

"Some battle, eh, Viceroy?" said Bartolli, who stood on the tarmac beside him, near the jetway and the plane. Bar-tolli's I told you so demeanor was insufferable, but hadn't yet crossed the line into outright insubordination.

"What battle?" Margolin said, thinking that the aliens had taken all of five seconds to surprise his men and make off with the armored car. "Looks more like a rout to me. Let's head this off before things get any worse. “

Bartolli grinned in obvious anticipation of another chase and capture. He's in his element, Margolin thought, rejoicing that he was fighting on the same side as this fearsome people-hunter.

Both men trotted quickly from the jetway to the downed agents that their prisoners had left in their wake. Two of the six agents who lay sprawled on the ground were still conscious, though a bit groggy. The others, including the trio of agents who had been aboard the armored prisoner transport vehicle, appeared to be dead. Bartolli looked disgusted.

As he made a couple of quick emergency cell phone calls, Margolin decided that Bartollis recriminations would have to wait for a better time.

Squinting across the sunbaked tarmac, Margolin saw that the prisoner transport… driven, obviously, by the prisoners themselves… was now barreling at high speed straight toward a nearby terminal building.

"The backup reception team will have all three of them back in custody in no time," Margolin said, keeping himself calm with a skill born of long practice. Despite Bar-tolli's worries, the special agent code-named "Viceroy" knew a thing or two about caution. A net composed of some of the finest counterterrorism specialists in the country was already drawing tight around those kids' necks, and they didn't even know it.

And they won't until after it's already too late, Margolin thought. As long as the girls don't shake off the drugs the way the Guerin boy apparently did.

It was the girls, in whom the Bureau's surveillance specialists and alien-profilers had observed certain telepathic abilities, who constituted the most severe potential threat, at least as far as Margolin was concerned. Tess Harding, or a reasonable facsimile of Tess Harding, had blown up an entire military base. And the telekinetic abilities of Isabel Evans… who, like the Guerin boy, now seemed to be in Los Angeles and Wyoming simultaneously… were well documented.

But Margolin believed that these threats would remain safely neutralized so long as the girls remained too drug-addled to marshal their talents.

Margolin felt a chill roll down his spine like ice water. He had absolutely no idea how the Guerin boy had recovered so quickly from the drugs in his system.

He wondered how much other critical information about their subjects the Special Unit had yet to learn. And he hoped that the rest of the Unit's planned alien takedown operations would go more smoothly than this one.

"Vilandra!" Rath was shouting. "Snap to it! “

As lucidity returned to her, Lonnie felt as though a family of woodchucks had taken up residence inside her head.

She realized groggily that she was sitting in the front seat of some sort of truck or SUV Ava was seated at her right, grabbing the dashboard as though her life depended on it.

Looking through the wide windshield, Lonnie could see a huge, flat expanse of blacktop. Two passenger jets and a chain of luggage trams were visible in the distance. In the foreground stood a low, prefabricated- looking building. An airport terminal, she recalled, her level of alertness spiking dramatically Rath must have gotten us away from the MiBs somehow.

She turned her head to the left and saw Rath, who was sitting behind the wheel, driving. He seemed frantic, his spiky Mohawk soaked in sweat. His hand was on her shoulder. Had he jolted her awake with his powers? "You should be awake enough now, Lonnie," he said, slamming the pedal down. The vehicles acceleration increased, and Lonnie felt herself being pressed backward into the middle of the vehicle's single bench seat.

Lonnie blinked at Rath in confusion. "Awake enough for what? “

"Awake enough for this. Take the wheel." And with that, Rath released the controls and clambered into the middle of the seat beside her, nudging her into the drivers position.

Lonnie quickly grabbed the wheel, and her right foot fumbled for a moment before coming to rest on what she hoped was the accelerator pedal. "Hey! Are you crazy? “

"Probably," Rath said. "I have to try to clear Ava's head. We need to get her powers working, at least long enough to get us out of here. Now take us to the terminal building. “

"But I can't drive this thing! “

"Lonnie, we came to this planet in a spaceship. How hard can it be to drive a copmobile?" Lonnie spared Rath a sidelong glance and saw that he was placing his hands on Ava's cheeks. She felt a momentary surge of jealousy but forced it down, reminding herself that the Feds couldn't be far behind them. They were still in huge trouble.

She pointed the truck toward the terminal building and hoped for the best, coming to a stop just outside the security doors perhaps a minute or two later. In one of the side mirrors, she could see dark-suited men running toward the vehicle from behind. They were already close enough for her to make out the guns in their hands.

Lonnie turned in the seat to face Rath and Ava. They both looked sharp and alert.

"All right, what now?" Lonnie said, her heart leaping into her throat as she considered the prospect of falling right back into the hands of the MiBs.

Lonnie saw that Rath's hands were beginning to glow as his offensive powers charged up. He knelt in front of the seat and placed his hands on the floorboard.

"Now we find another ride," Rath said, grinning. "While our queen covers our tracks. “

Margolin took the point as he, Bartolli, and two other agents cautiously approached the rear of the armored vehicle. A half-dozen other armed agents, all members of the local reception team, had joined them in encircling the truck, their trank guns held at the ready.

After the vehicle had pulled up in front of the terminal building, none of the doors appeared to have opened. The glare of the sun across the tinted windshield made it impossible to see what the teens inside were doing.

Margolin motioned to Bartolli to cover him. His weapon raised, Margolin shouted toward the eerily silent vehicle.

"Come out slowly, with your hands on top of your heads. If you attempt to raise your hands as you exit the vehicle, you will immediately be rendered unconscious." Watch those hands, Margolin told himself repeatedly. According to the two agents who had remained conscious after the Guerin boy's attack, these aliens' hands could be lethal, even from a fair distance away.

Several seconds passed in silence. Margolin repeated his demand. No response came from the truck as another full minute came and went.

"I thought I heard a sound from inside the truck just after they stopped," said one of the other agents. "Like a gunshot. “

"Maybe they decided to kill themselves," said another, nodding.

Margolin curtly acknowledged the two agents, then gestured for quiet. He'd heard the muffled sound too. But he found it hard to believe that their quarry would take such a cowardly exit. Not after he'd seen with his own eyes their willingness to fight.

It was far likelier that Guerin would try to set a trap for them.

"Maybe we ought to speed things along a bit, Viceroy," Bartolli said, looking impatient. "Lets force their hand. “

Margolin smirked, making an after you gesture toward the vehicle. "By all means, Dale. “

Bartolli walked cautiously around to the opposite side of the vehicle and approached the driver's side door. Though Margolin couldn't see the door from where he stood, he knew that its tinted, bulletproof window would have prevented Bartolli from seeing inside.

His pistol at the ready in his right hand, Bartolli reached for the door latch and pulled.

Surprisingly, the door swung open without any resistance. A thin plume of smoke curled upward from inside the cockpit. Margolin unconsciously tightened his grip on his weapon as he watched Bartolli, whose normally unflappable expression had abruptly changed to a look of shock. "Boss, you're not gonna believe this. “

Gathering from Bartolli's reaction that it was safe to approach, Margolin advanced quickly toward the passenger door. He pulled it open with an ease that surprised him.

The center of the bench seat was burned away, leaving a meter-wide hole that seemed to go all the way to the vehicle's undercarriage. Ignoring the lingering traces of smoke, he stuck his head into the cockpit and saw that the hole in fact extended all the way down to the tarmac.

The prisoners were gone.

"Looks like one of the girls mustVe whacked us with a Jedi mind trick," Bartolli said, a vague smirk on his face. "This looks bad, Chief." Margolin knew that what his ambitious deputy really meant was, "This looks bad for you. “

One of the other agents approached the burned-out cockpit carrying a small handheld device no bigger than a TV remote. "I can confirm that, sir," she said to Margolin. "I'm picking up electromagnetic traces that match other sites where anomalous psi-powers were documented. “

Margolin realized then that the Harding girl also must have gotten the drugs out of her system somehow. She had probably influenced the minds of her pursuers, rendering all three teens conveniently invisible just long enough for them to escape into the terminal.

Suddenly transported by an impotent rage, Margolin slammed his fist on the hood of the truck. Then he swiftly tried to compose himself.

"Alert the backup team," he said to Bartolli a moment later. "They're going to try to get through the terminal to steal some transportation. We have to head them off. “

"This is a big airport," Bartolli pointed out as he opened up his cell phone.

Margolin gestured angrily toward the electromagnetic detection device the female agent still held in her hand. "The Harding girl is going to have to keep using her abilities as long as they're here. That means she's going to leave a trail. I want it followed. “

Everyone scattered to resume the chase. Margolin swore to himself that the kids wouldn't get far.

Anthony Miller was in a hurry. His flight had arrived late, and unless everything went perfectly for the next ninety minutes or so, he was going to be very late meeting with a very important, very finicky client. And he knew that expecting perfection from the baggage carousel, the car rental desk, and the 405 freeway was asking for the impossible.

But as he left the luggage area, his suit-bag slung over one shoulder, he began feeling lucky. Maybe I used up all my bad luck during the layover at O'Hare, he thought, striding urgently toward a wide-open, relatively uncrowded array of car rental desks. No lines! I can't believe it! Coming out of nowhere, someone bumped him, making his suit-bag tumble from his shoulder and to the floor. Miller was about to say something rude when he saw the frail-looking old man with whom he'd just collided.

The old man was flanked by an equally fragile old woman and a middle-aged woman who had to be their daughter. The old man looked apologetic as he stooped to help Miller recover what he had dropped.

Then the old man lost his balance, and Miller reached out to steady him.

"I'm so sorry," said the old man.

Now feeling guilty, Miller helped the man recover his footing. Retrieving his bag, he said, "Don't mention it. It was probably my fault, anyway. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you all right? “

The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling as though he had a secret. "Don't worry about me." Then, still flanked by his wife and daughter, the old man continued on his way.

Miller didn't realize that his wallet was missing until a minute later, after he'd reached the car rental desk.

Ducking behind a pillar beside Rath and Lonnie, Ava carefully altered the mindwarp shell she had created to cover their escape from the MiBs back on the tarmac. Ava felt sweat beginning to bead across her brow.

The image of an elderly couple and their middle-aged daughter wavered and vanished as their forms… at least in the eyes of anyone who came within fifty yards of them… quickly shifted and altered, then stabilized into entirely new configurations.

A moment later, Rath looked down at his own expensively dressed body, and then studied Lonnie and Ava, both of whom had been magically transformed into men. They all appeared to be in their mid-thirties, and bore no resemblance at all to the fugitives the MiBs were chasing.

"I always wondered what we'd look like if we swapped sexes," Rath said, grinning down at his short-skirted Ally McBeal ensemble and taking a few experimental steps in his virtual high heels. Ava was proud of the illusion. Rath looked like he'd been walking in heels all his life.

"Now we know," Lonnie said, pausing to admire her newly masculine form, as well as the sharp-looking business suit that covered it. "Too bad we don't have time to do more than just look. “

Ava hadn't thought of that. She blushed, but hoped her illusory black beard covered it. "Sorry to disappoint you guys, but this is just camouflage. Less than skin deep. I picked this illusion because the Feds are looking for two girls and a guy, not the other way around. “

"Good thinking," Rath said, meeting her gaze for a moment. Though he was still grinning, Ava thought something had subtly changed behind his eyes, turning them even flintier and more calculating than usual.

Then he looked away and the moment passed. Ava dismissed it as her imagination, or maybe even some unintended trick of the gender-bending, mindwarp-driven disguises she had created. She fell silently into step behind Rath and Lonnie as they walked back onto the main concourse, proceeded through the large glass doors, and finally came to a stop at a curbside that thronged with both human and vehicular traffic. The early autumn sun beat down on them without mercy. Ava ruefully wished the air-conditioned concourse a fond farewell.

She watched as Rath reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew the large, crumpled wad of cash he'd taken from the yuppie whose wallet he'd filched back inside the terminal, and extended a hand to flag down a cab.

We're actually doing it, Ava thought, allowing hope to return. We're going to get away.

Walking past the car rental area, Special Agent Billings glanced down at his handheld EM detector, knowing that the odds were very much against his finding the three fugitives before they made it out of the terminal. There were simply too many exits, and there just wasn't time to seal them all. Once outside, the aliens could easily get their hands on a car and make a clean getaway.

Then Billings saw the energy spike on the detector's small LED readout. He understood immediately that the Harding girl must be expending a great deal of psionic energy at the moment, no doubt using her mindwarp talent to alter the appearance of herself and her two friends.

And she's somewhere nearby, he thought, examining the readings more closely. Following the GPS coordinates as they scrolled onto his screen, he pressed a couple of buttons to display the range and distance of his prey, relative to his present position. Then he trotted quickly across the concourse and through the large glass doors that led to the curbside.

The readout on his device was going crazy. / must be right on top of them, he thought.

Straight ahead, beside the curb, a yellow taxicab waited. Two smartly dressed men and a woman approached it, their flights evidently having just landed, and started to get in.

Billings recalled what the files on the Harding girl had said about her powers. She evidently possessed at least a limited ability to reach into people's minds and manipulate what they saw. Or what they thought they saw.

Maybe she should have whipped up an illusion of some luggage, he thought. Strange that not one of them has any. He consulted the range and distance data again on his device one last time, making absolutely sure.

It's them, he thought, then sprinted toward the cab before the trio finished closing its doors. Dropping the detector, he pulled his gun, grabbed the rear passenger door, and flung it open.

"Freeze! FBI!" he shouted.

With surprising strength, the slight woman seated in the center of the backseat shoved the man at her right, throwing him straight into Billings.

The agent and the other man fell backward onto the curbside. Billings felt the wind rush out of his body. The man looked confused, but it was obvious that he intended to run. Travelers stepped around them. Someone cursed, then moved on.

Billings rolled into a crouch and brought the smaller man down with a quick rabbit punch. The man slumped toward the sidewalk, unconscious.

By the time he hit the ground, he had transformed into a slightly built teenage female with dyed-blue hair and hardcore alt-rock clothing.

Someone screamed. Billings heard an engine roar and the squeal of tires quickly laying part of their treads on the roadway. He looked up from the unconscious Harding girl to see the taxicab streak away. A dark- skinned man, who appeared to have been its driver, lay unconscious on the sidewalk.

Noting the cab's plate numbers, Billings grabbed his radio and called for backup, though he doubted anyone could move fast enough now to keep the perps from getting out of the airport.

One down. Just two more to go, he thought, handcuffing his sole prisoner. He knew that this one, Tess Harding, was the one his superiors wanted captured most of all.

As another pair of agents and a large black sedan arrived to help him whisk her away, he wondered why the other aliens had sacrificed one of their own.

"That was really smart, Rath," Lonnie said sardonically She noticed immediately that her appearance had now returned to normal.

Rath slammed the accelerator down, as though the entire airport, and the roads that led into and out of it, were his own private video arcade.

"Ava was just dead weight," he said.

She scowled, holding on to the dash as Rath swerved around a hotel shuttle. People dived out of the crosswalk, their luggage scattering in all directions. "Hello? Ava was the only thing that kept our magic makeovers from disappearing! “

Rath turned into a parking garage, almost going up onto two wheels in the process. "She was also a bell around our necks. “

"What are you talking about? “

"Ever wonder why the MiBs only seem to come after us when Ava is nearby, using her Obi-Wan whammy? And how come we never had much of an alien-hunter problem until after she came back from wherever it was she disappeared to for all those months after we went to Roswell to drag Zan Lite off to the Antarian Summit? “

Lonnie had never given those matters much thought. But now she had to admit, at least to herself, that what Rath was saying was at least possible. But possible wasn't the same as likely.

"Might be a coincidence," was all she could think of to say. "Remember, the cops and the Feds might have captured us because we were having that noisy fight with those alien-possessed freaks. “

"The freaks chased us into the warehouse because they followed Ava there. “

"Still might be a coincidence. “

Rath brought the cab to a stop across a pair of handicapped parking spaces and threw his door open. It crunched into the side of the neighboring car.

"Yeah," he said. "And monkeys might fly out of my butt. I think the MiBs know how to track her by her powers. So now they can have her. “

It took Lonnie a moment to wrap her mind around what Rath had just told her. Ava wasn't likely to survive for long on her own in some FBI interrogation/dissection room. First Zan, now Ava. Gone.

Lonnie knew that for all intents and purposes the two of them were all that remained of the Royal Four. At least this version of the Royal Four.

But the approaching whine of a siren reminded her that there was no time to dwell on that. Rath got out of the cab first, and Lonnie followed him over to a nearby BMW Rath knelt behind the rear bumper, altering the plates with a wave of his hand. A moment later, he repeated the procedure on the car's front end.

Their powers got the doors on both sides open in seconds. Lonnie watched from the passenger seat as Rath quickly hot-wired the ignition using a single glowing finger as a stand-in for a strand of copper.

"Yupmobiles," Rath said as he drove the BMW toward the parking lot's exit. "Gotta love 'em. “

The whine of the siren… or was it more than one?… grew steadily louder in Lonnies ears. "What about our disguises? “

"We'll do 'em ourselves. It'll just take a lot of energy. “

Lonnie sighed. She was almost starting to get used to being tired and depleted.

Almost. "You first," she said.

Rath nodded. As Lonnie watched, his hair slowly turned gray, then migrated from the top of his head to the back and sides, forming a long ponytail that hung down his back. His leathers morphed into a disgustingly retro velour shirt, which opened almost to the navel and exposed a chest covered with wiry white hair.

"How do I look?" Rath wanted to know.

She shrugged. "Like Patrick Stewart having a midlife crisis." Concentrating intensely, Lonnie began to change her own features and clothing, hoping they could get clear of their pursuers before her energies were once again depleted. She chose a familiar face to base her image on, complementing Rath's actorly looks.

Rath drove on in silence, leaving the airport behind and taking an on-ramp for the northbound 405 freeway. Like Ava, the sirens were already becoming a distant memory. Their pursuers no longer knew where to look.

Rath glanced at her, evidently done pouting over her earlier insult. "Nice look, Counselor Troi. If the cops pull us over, they'll probably ask for our autographs. “

Lonnie snorted. "So, where to, Captain? Are we going to try to track down Langley? “

He shook his head. "I know Ava always had a lot of faith in Langley, but she believed in Santa Claus, too.

What's Langley done for us lately? I'm not sure I trust him any more than I trust Ava. “

"Good point," Lonnie said, thinking, If Langley had done a better job looking after us, we wouldn't have had to grow up in the sewers. "So where are we going, then? “

"Where else but Langley 's very own backyard? “

Lonnie was confused. "But you just said you didn't trust Langley. “

"I don't. But can I help it if our no-good, rat-bastard 'protector'"… he accentuated this word with Dr. Evil… style finger-quotes… "happens to live and work in the only place on the entire West Coast where the two of us can fit in without having to shapeshift? “

She gave him a blank look. " Disneyland? “

" Melrose Avenue! “

The BMW roared northward, drowning out Lonnie's delighted laughter.

Then a chilling thought suddenly descended upon her: If the FBI guys really had found Ava by tracking her powers, then what made Rath so certain that they couldn't also do the same thing with either of them? How do we know they're not doing it right now?

Max had to be more careful this time, since dawn was imminent, and the hospital was much busier than it had been only hours ago. He had watched through a window for ten minutes as a nurse did her rounds, before he finally felt comfortable enough to enter the building again.

He quickly made his way back to room 126, but when he got there, he was startled to find that Shania and her sister were gone. Instead, a bulky female nurse was changing the linens on the bed.

Nervously, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Where have they moved Shania to? “

The nurse looked at him for a moment, but kept most of her attention on the bedding. "She's made an amazing recovery in the middle of the night. They moved her upstairs, to Ward C. But they're doing some tests on her right now, so you can't see her. Besides, visiting hours haven't started yet. “

"Do you know where her sister is? Lisa? “

"Probably in the commissary. Or the smoking garden. “

Max thanked the nurse and quickly made his way toward the stairway. On the second floor he found a hospital map and located both the commissary and the smoking area.

As he approached the smoking area, he saw through the tall glass windows that the older Cameron sister was indeed there. She hadn't seen him yet, but as he opened the door, the pneumatics on it gave a slight hiss, and she turned.

"What are you doing back?" Her tone wasn't as hostile as before, though he could see the tension in her stance.

"How's Shania? “

"She's doing much better," the woman said, stubbing her cigarette out in a gravel-filled ashtray. "The doctors said it's a miracle she pulled out of the coma, and they can hardly believe how fast her other injuries are healing. The other woman in the wreck is also doing better. They're both out of danger. “

"That's good. “

"Shouldn't you be out of town by now?" Lisa eyed him warily. "You don't know that I didn't call the cops on you as soon as you left the room last time. “

"No, I don't," Max admitted. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a creased envelope. "But I'm hoping that you didn't. “

Lisa sat down on a bench and motioned for Max to do the same. "No, I didn't. Somehow, it didn't seem right. Since it looks like you healed her and all. At least that's what she says. “

Max sat down but said nothing.

"So, what are you, then?" Lisa asked. "Shania thinks you're an angel or something, but I don't think angels are quite gonna look like you. Or have the cops after them. “

Max sighed. "I can't really talk about it. Its not safe for me, and it wouldn't be safe forjyou, if you knew. “

She shot a peculiar look at him for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. So why are you back here, then? “

"Because, as you said earlier, this isn't over for you." Max held the envelope out toward her. "This should help with the bills. “

She took the envelope and looked quickly at the contents, then regarded Max with the peculiar look again. "This is a lot of money Is it stolen? “

Max shook his head.

"Drug money? “

"No," Max said. "It's completely safe for you to use. “

She nodded. "Hmmmm. So, you're some kind of rich angel who's running from the law with a bunch of his friends? They all like you? “

Max grinned. "They're all good people. And none of us deserve to be hunted." He stood to leave. "It's best if you don't mention to anyone that you ever saw me or talked to me. “

Lisa stood and winked, a wobbly grin on her face. "Got that." Max started to open the door, but she moved forward. "Hey, I'm sorry to have been such a hard case on you before. Thanks for what you did earlier. And now"… she held out her hand… "if I shake your hand, my hand won't turn silver, will it? “

Max grinned. "Nope." They shook hands, and Max exited the area, feeling good for the first time in almost twenty-four hours.

Roswell, New Mexico The morning sun was still low in the sky, but Jeff Parker was already out in front of the Crashdown, cleaning the windows. Nancy Parker looked out at him and grinned; he was as hardworking today as the day they had met. It was difficult to believe that 2003 was going to bring their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It seemed like only a few years ago that they had met at that 1978 Village People concert; he was escorting his younger sister, and appeared to be one of the few heterosexual men there. They exchanged numbers and started dating shortly thereafter, and were married later that year. Both of them worked at various jobs for several years before Jeff decided to open his own diner, the Crashdown Cafe, in 1984. Little Elizabeth was barely over a year old then, and quite a handful, but somehow they'd managed to juggle the busy worlds of parenthood and the restaurant trade.

Back then, Nancy would hold Liz in one arm and help cook or waitress with the other. This morning, her arms were unencumbered as she mixed pancake and waffle batter, and kept an eye on the scones to make sure they didn't overbake. Today she didn't know where Liz was, only that she was off with the rest of her friends. What did they call them? "The Bod Squad"? No, "The Pod Squad. “

Nancy giggled a bit every time she heard the name; when she was twelve, she had idolized Peggy Lipton, who'd played Julie Barnes on The Mod Squad on TY and… much to her mother's chagrin… had also nursed a crush on Upton 's costar, Clarence Williams III. Ah, how things change.

The humorous moment faded quickly, replaced by melancholy. Nancy 's only child was on the run from the government and aliens and who knew what else. And except for occasional reports… like the one they had gotten last night… she had no way to protect her little girl.

As she turned, Nancy 's elbow knocked a bottle of Tabasco sauce from the counter, and it shattered on the floor. She grabbed a roll of towels and crouched behind the counter to clean it up.

She heard the sudden squeal of tires outside the cafe. Still squatting, she turned and looked through the glass pastry case and out toward the street to see what it was. A black van and a black sedan had pulled up outside the diner, and Nancy saw several men dressed in dark paramilitary clothing exit the vehicle at a run.

Nancy 's blood turned to ice as she heard someone bark an order at Jeff, who dropped his cleaning supplies and tried to run for the door of the cafe. He yelled her name, but they were on him in an instant, four of them crashing down on top of him.

Even before she heard them say it, Nancy knew the men were coming for her next. She scrabbled across the floor, ignoring the glass shard that stabbed into her leg from the broken Tabasco sauce bottle. She crawled through the swinging door and into the kitchen, and only then did she dare to stand up. Grabbing the cordless phone on the wall, she considered her options.

Do I call Jim or the Evanses? Phillip will know what to do. He's a lawyer. She started to dial, then realized she was half squatting in the middle of the floor, bleeding from the cut on her leg. She shook her head quickly, trying to focus. Okay, they're probably waiting out in the alley. And they'll head upstairs first.

She ran to the downstairs bathroom and locked the door behind her. She knew it wouldn't hold for very long, but maybe it would buy her time.

As her trembling fingers touched the cell phone's buttons, Nancy heard the men running up the stairs toward their home above the diner. The phone on the other end rang once, its small, purring sound nearly drowned out by the frantic beating of her own heart, and the noise from the men outside.

"This door's locked!" a male voice yelled outside the bathroom.

The phone rang again. Next came a click, and then she heard Diane Evans's voice. "Hello? “

"Break it down if you have to," another man outside ordered.

"Diane, it's Nancy. They've just taken Jeff, and they're raiding the house, looking for me. Oh, God, they're going to be here any second. Diane, you've got to… “

And then the door crashed inward, the frame splintering around the hinges and the lock.

Nancy found herself staring into the guns of two masked men dressed all in black.

Cheyenne, Wyoming "So everything's okay then?" Liz asked.

"Yep." Max smiled lightly "You're sure? No problems?" She looked into his eyes, but couldn't see any concern in them.

"No problems. “

They were walking across the parking lot toward the Microbus. Kyle and Michael had been arranging Maria's guitar case and what little other luggage they all had, setting up individual areas for each of them within the cramped vehicle. Soon, they'd be back on the road.

Isabel and Maria were standing outside the van, looking up at the cloudless dawn sky.

"We're all clear, kids. Now let's blow this thing so we can all go home," Max said.

Liz recognized the paraphrasing from Star Wars, and was about to make a joke about Max being a scruffy- looking nerf-herder, when she tripped and fell forward into Isabel… Suddenly she was back in the White Room, with its painfully bright klieg lights and the doctor and the restraining straps that secured her to the operating table. But now she could see that there were others in the room as well, and still more people watching from galleries elevated above the room. Men in dark suits, mostly. One woman was present.

She felt excruciating pain from somewhere in her chest, but she couldn't lift her head to find its cause.

Instead, she looked past the red haze in her eyes, past the pain lancing through her mind, and into the mirrored hoods on the overhead lights.

She wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't Liz anymore. She was Isabel now, though it took Liz a moment to recognize Max's sister. Most of her hair had been shorn away, replaced by a chaotic tangle of electrodes and wires. But that wasn't the worst of it.

She couldn't see everything because of the medical workers who bustled about her lower half, but she could see that her/Isabel's stomach and chest were draped with protective medical material.

The fabric's light blue surface was stained crimson with blood.

And then one of the workers moved aside, and she saw that her/Isabel's chest was open, spread wet and wide, as they continued to disassemble her, organ by organ.

Liz screamed, and the sound reverberated off the white walls. But the technicians paid no heed to the sound.

And then, there were hands on her shoulders, and Liz found herself looking at Max. She could see her reflection in his dark eyes, saw the fear on his face, an expression mirrored by Isabel and Maria, who stood directly behind him.

"Liz! Are you all right?" Max said.

Liz was startled to find herself lying on the blacktop of the parking lot, beside the van. She realized that she must have screamed out loud. She nodded, and Max grasped her hand tightly and helped her to her feet.

Liz caught her breath. "I saw it again, Max. Isabel was… they were doing an alien autopsy, but she wasn't dead! It was horrible! “

Maria tried to put her arm around Isabel's shoulder, but the taller girl pushed her away, her face suddenly drained of all color.

Max gave Maria a quick, apologetic glance, then released Liz's hand so he could approach his sister. "We're going to make sure it doesn't happen, Iz. It won't come true. “

Michael hopped out of the van. "I know it's not a good time, but we've got to go, Maxwell. Liz screamed pretty loud, and somebody's going to come looking any second. “

Kyle and Maria helped Liz up into the back of the Microbus, and seconds later, Max helped Isabel inside.

Liz couldn't help but notice that Isabel was making every effort not to touch Liz as she found a place to sit. Isabel wouldn't, or couldn't, even look at her.

I don't blame her, Liz thought. I'm not sure I'd want to look at anybody who'd just foretold my death.

Michael started the VW and sped out of the parking lot.

Roswell, New Mexico Ever since the military lockdown of the town following the explosion at Rogers Air Force Base, Brody Davis had taken ever greater security precautions at the UFO Center, as well as at his own home. The Center was already well fortified, as had been proven when Sheriff Hanson had tried to storm the place thinking a hostage situation had developed there. And while he already had hidden video cameras monitoring the inside of the place, Brody had also installed a number of external video cameras over the last several months.

If another government lockdown was coming, Brody was going to be ready. It wasn't that he was particularly antigovernment; he just didn't trust them, especially with all the invaluable data that was stored here at his museum.

There had been times… especially when Max Evans had worked there… when Brody had felt he was on the verge of making a breakthrough in his research into the Roswell conspiracy and UFO cover-ups in general. But those months had also been full of what he'd come to think of as "lost time": the period during which he felt he had been abducted by aliens. Once, he had even awoken in New York, with no idea how he had gotten there from Roswell, nor why he had made the journey. Clearly, some other intelligence had been pulling his strings.

This morning, he had come to the museum very early. His daughter, Sydney, was staying with his parents for the week, so he had been able to spend a lot of productive time on his research.

He pulled a CD out of its case on the wall bookshelf and prepared to sit back at his desk, when a movement on the monitor caught his eye. The camera had a wide-angle lens, and faced across the street from the UFO Center, toward the Crashdown Cafe.

He watched as a black van and a black sedan pulled up in front of the Crashdown, and men in black leaped out and tackled Jeff Parker. Moments later, several of them burst into the Crashdown, guns drawn.

For a moment, Brody was too astonished to move. Then his survival instincts kicked in. Running to the wall, he toggled several switches, which triple-bolted all of the doors. Another switch brought a secondary set of doors sliding forward and locking into place; the thick steel barriers would act as a secondary shield should the first set of doors fail.

He kept his eye on the monitors to see if they were coming across the street toward him, or were down the alley, but he didn't see any movement.

"Who do I call?" he asked out loud, but only one name came to mind: Jim Valenti. Although the man worked in law enforcement, Brody trusted something about him. Maybe it was the way he had been so protective about Max and his friends. Maybe it was his clear and outspoken belief in the existence of UFOs and extraterrestrial life. Or maybe it was something deeper that Brody couldn't quite define.

Rifling through a stack of papers, Brody tried to find the number. Valenti had come to see him a week or two after the Rogers explosion, and had given him a special beeper number. "If anything… strange ever happens that you don't think you can discuss with the law, page me," Valenti had told him then.

"Why?" Brody had asked. He hadn't needed to elaborate on his question.

"You and I both know that there's more going on beneath the surface than most people will ever understand," Valenti had said, his voice steady and low. "If you ever need help, Brody, remember that I'm an ally. “

Now Brody knew he needed an ally more than ever before. He finally found the pager number and punched it into his cell phone.

The phone rang once, and then picked up. A tone buzzed in Brody's ear, and he punched in his private phone number, then the pound sign. An automatonlike female voice said, "Thank you." He hung up.

On the monitor, he saw the men in black pulling Nancy Parker out of the Crashdown by both arms. He pressed a button, and the camera focused in closer. He could see that she was gagged, and that the men all had black ski masks over their faces.

One of them re-entered the Crashdown and picked something up from the floor. He placed it in the window, and Brody saw that it was the "closed" sign.

And then, to his horror, Brody saw one of the men look across the street, directly toward the camera.

Directly at him.

Jim Valenti had just put on his Roswell Sheriff's Deputy jacket and was preparing to leave his house when the phone rang.

Strange. Who's calling at this hour? Amy had already left to go back home and change clothes before opening her shop.

He picked up the phone. "Hello? “

"Jim Valenti? “

It was a woman's voice. Familiar, but not overly so. "This is Jim. Who is this? “

"I don't think it's safe for me to say, Jim. But I will say that you once gave me some very good advice over drinks in Arizona." She paused for a moment. "Do you know who this is now? “

The voice clicked into place. The only woman he had given advice to in Arizona was FBI Special Agent Suzanne Duff, when he had counseled her about what not to put in her reports about the Laurie Dupree abduction and the shooting of Grant Sorenson.

"Yeah, I know who you are. What can I do for you? “

Her voice seemed strained. "I can't explain right now, over the phone, but I think something very bad is about to come down in your town. “

"What kind of bad?" Valenti's eyes darted around the room, and his hand automatically went to his sidearm.

"I'm not sure. But there's been some activity I've tracked in Wyoming and New York City, and something tells me that you aren't safe there. “

Valenti was about to reply when his second line beeped and his pager went off simultaneously When it rains, it pours, he thought ruefully. He looked quickly at the pager. It was Brody Davis from the UFO Center. Not a good sign. "Hold on. I have another call coming in," he said to Duff.

He clicked the "flash" button on his phone. "Valenti here. “

"Morning, Jim. It's Randy. You on your way into work? “

"Was just about to leave, Sheriff. What's up?" Valenti frowned, and the hairs on his neck began to rise.

"Uhhh, nothing special. I just need you at the office as soon as possible." Hanson sounded distracted, as if he was concentrating on something else. Jim recognized it as Hanson's "tell," the one thing that gave gamblers and liars away.

"Something up I should be aware of, Randy? “

"No," the sheriff said, too quickly. "Just get on in here. “

"All right. See you soon." Valenti hit the "Flash" button again. "You there? “

"Yes," Duff said. "What was it? “

"Trouble. I'm back at the Sheriff's Department… as a deputy now… and they just called me in but wouldn't tell me what about. And I just got an emergency page from someone else. “

Her voice was full of urgency. "Don't go in. Get out of there, and get anybody else who you think might be at risk out of there as well. “

Valenti wasn't going to argue. "Got it. I'm gone. “

"Jim, wait. I'm coming out there too. If you can, meet me where we had drinks before." Jim knew that meant the Dupree house in Tucson.

"I'll do my best." He looked down at his beeper again and saw Brody Davis's number flashing there.

"Good luck, Jim," Duff said, and the phone clicked as she hungup.

Valenti was torn now. Something big is going down. Is Amy at risk? He had grown to love the spacey Amy DeLuca more and more each day they spent together.

Do I call Brody back, or make sure Amy is safe? The choice wasn't really all that difficult. Grabbing his extra cell phone, Valenti moved out of his house and toward the departmental rover parked in the driveway. On the way, he dialed.

Diane Evans was just toweling off from the shower when she heard the phone ring. Wrapping a towel around her midsection, she ran to get it, picking it up just after the second ring.

"Hello? “

She heard the muffled sound of a harsh male voice, followed by the hushed tones of Nancy Parker. "Diane, it's Nancy. They've just taken Jeff, and they're raiding the house, looking for me. Oh, God, they're going to be here any second. Diane, you've got to… “

And then Diane heard a crash, as if something had exploded. Several men's voices were shouting for Nancy to get her hands up, and she heard Nancy scream, "Don't shoot! “

The phone line went dead.

Fear gripped Diane, and she ran for the bathroom, where Phillip had just started his shower. "Phillip! Something just happened at the Parkers'. There were men with guns! “

In seconds he emerged from the shower, narrowly avoiding slipping as he exited the bathroom. "Call Valenti! Hurry!" He grabbed the clothes he had worn yesterday, which were lying on a chair near the television, and wiped a towel around himself cursorily.

Diane looked at the list on the nightstand and punched in the number for Jim Valenti. A busy signal beeped repetitively in her ear. "It's busy," she said.

"Keep trying," Phillip said, pulling his pants on over his still-damp legs. As he fastened them at the waist, he moved toward the window and pulled the curtain a few inches open.

Hitting the re-dial button, Diane was dismayed to hear the busy signal again. She scanned the list for the special pager number Jim had given them, and dialed it. A tone buzzed, and she punched in their phone number.

Phillip closed the curtain. "A black car and van are coming up the street. They're coming for us. “

"Oh my God, Phillip. What are we going to do? “

He threw some clothes at her and grabbed his shirt. "Get dressed and come downstairs. Keep trying Valenti. “

Diane hurriedly got dressed. She was oddly calm, even though the situation was frightening. After all, they had faced the worst already, just a few months ago. Could today be any worse? As she made her way toward the living room, she heard Phillip talking on his business cell phone. She wasn't sure who he was talking to, and she couldn't make out what he was saying. She rounded the corner and saw that he was fiddling with the Nanny-Cam. They had once used it to spy on Isabel, afraid she was on drugs or involved in something dangerous, never imagining in those carefree days that they would end up with videotaped proof that their adopted daughter possessed bizarre alien powers.

Phillip positioned the camera on the bookshelf, pointing it out into the living room, toward the front door. He was still talking on his phone, hurriedly.

Diane tried Valenti's number again, and tugged on some tennis shoes.

Then she heard a noise on the porch.

The door crashed open, the doorknob smashing a crater into the wall.

As the men in black swarmed in, guns drawn, Phillip dropped his cell phone and stomped on it, grinding it into countless tiny, broken components.

Amy DeLuca wasn't wild about talking on her cell phone while she was driving, but since she was the only person on the road, she decided to take the chance. "Hello," she said.

"Amy, it's Jim. Are you okay?" There was an edge to his voice that she'd rarely heard before.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm about a quarter mile from home. Why?" She could see her street up in the distance.

"Stop the car. Don't go home. Turn around. “

"What? Jim, you aren't making any sense." She saw something then, on her street. A black sedan.

"Amy, turn aroundl" His voice was harsh and commanding, but it got her attention. She stepped on the brakes, squealing to a stop. She put the car into reverse, spinning the wheel.

"What's going on?" In her rearview mirror, she saw the sedan pull out into the street.

"I think we're all in danger," Valenti said. "We've got to find the others and get out of here. “

She knew without asking who "the others" were. The Evanses and the Parkers. She and Jim had become inextricably tied to them in a way that even in-laws weren't linked. She flicked her eye up to the rearview mirror and saw that the sedan was gaining on her.

"Jim, there's somebody following me in a big black car! “

"Where are you?" His voice projected concern.

"On Katims Road. Near the lumberyard. “

"I'm almost there, Amy. See if you can lose them somehow. “

Amy spun the wheel, careening her Jetta to the left into an entrance. For a moment, she was afraid the car would tip over, but it shuddered and righted itself. She smiled grimly, her mind flashing on the things she had read in Liz's diary and that Jim had told her; apparently, the sturdy little VW had been through far worse scrapes over the last few years.

In her mirror, she saw that the sedan was pulling into the entrance as well, but she had a good lead on them, and she figured she knew the layout of the lumberyard better than they did.

She steered the car around a tall stack of boards, then pulled what was almost the equivalent of a U-turn around another stack of wood. Now she knew she was out of sight of the sedan, but she was aware that her temporary invisibility worked both ways.

"Jim? I think I got ahead of them in the lumberyard," she said into the phone.

"Hang on, honey. I'm almost there," he said.

Thankful that there were only a few people present this early, Amy curved the Jetta to the right, around a stack of plywood, then spun the wheel to the left. Down this section, she thought she could get to a clear area, and maybe even sneak back out onto the street before the sedan's driver figured out that she was no longer inside the maze of wood.

Except that a huge pile of scrap lumber and sawdust now barred her way. That wasn't here last week, she had time to think, just before the Jetta plowed straight into the pile.

Amy shook her head and sat back from the steering wheel. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, or if she had actually lost consciousness at all. She put a hand to her head and felt wetness there. Her hand came away with blood on it.

She pushed the door open, then grabbed the cell phone and her purse. I'm trapped back here, she thought, looking down at the wood that created an alley on either side of her. She heard the sound of a car nearby, then yet another engine.

Amy clambered up a stack of four-by-fours, trying to get to the top of the pile. Maybe then I can get my bearings.

But as she did so, the blood began to seep into her eyes, and she was momentarily blinded.

But she wasn't deaf, and what she heard was one car crashing into another. As she used her arm to wipe the blood out of her eyes, she lost her balance and tumbled down the other side of the woodpile. She landed on the ground, hard, and the impact knocked the wind out of her. But she remained alert enough to hear the sounds of the car nearby Familiar sounds.

"Amy!" Through the red haze, Amy smiled as Jim Valenti's strong arms helped her up. He shoved her into the Rover on the passenger side and slammed the door closed.

Amy finally succeeded in wiping the blood from her eyes as Jim jumped into the drivers seat. They were racing away even before he'd finished closing his door.

"Better put your seat belt on," he warned.

She started laughing. "My seat belt? “

He laughed as well, but she knew that neither of them felt anything humorous. It was just the tension talking.

As they raced back onto Katims Road and began speeding off… without any black cars following them… Amy saw Jims emergency pager on the seat next to his phone. She picked it up and looked at it. "Phillip and Diane called you. “

He nodded gravely "I know. And Brody Davis before that. You can try calling them back, but I'm not sure you'll get an answer. “

"What's… whats happening, Jim? “

"I don't know for sure, baby, but I do know that we've got to get out of Roswell. “

"Does it have something to do with our kids? “

He snorted. "I think that's a safe bet. Those were Special Unit guys. I'm sure of it. “

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. "What are we going to do? “

He put a hand over on hers, and she knew he was doing his best to calm her. "If we can help the others, we will. If not, we'll try to go to Plan B. “

She nodded, then reached down and grabbed the bottom hem of her skirt. She tore the fabric and pushed a strip of it against her temple. The wound stung, but it was the best she could do for now.

Amy dialed the phone number of the Evanses, but it only rang repeatedly, unanswered. She tried the Parkers next, but the answering machine picked up after three rings. She hung up.

"No answer at the Evanses or the Crashdown," she said. "I'll try Brody next. “

Jim Valenti nodded, and she could see his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching as he drove on through the early morning light of Roswell.

17 Bushnell, Nebraska

I he Microbus had passed out of Wyoming on 1-80, and cut over to Highway 30 once they'd entered Nebraska. Just past the tiny town of Bushnell, they came to the Oliver Reservoir near Lodgepole Creek.

Max pointed to the side of the road. "Pull over up there, Michael." He knew they all needed to stretch, and thought that the sunlight and natural setting might help lift their collective mood. There was a picnic area with lots of trees. A few people were eating or roaming nearby, while children waded along the shore of the lake. A bridge crossed over the water, fashioned to look like an old-style train trestle bridge, and people were using it to cross back and forth.

"Isn't this a little public?" Michael asked. "Some of these people might recognize us. “

Max sighed. "Thats a risk we're going to have to take now, apparently “

The group piled out of the Microbus, stretching and yawning. Liz and Maria retrieved some food from the back, and they all made their way toward an unoccupied picnic table.

They began to eat in silence. Max finally broke it. "So, the question becomes, what do we do now? “

"Are we open for discussion, or are you just going to make decisions for us all as King Zan?" Michael said sourly.

Max decided not to rise to the bait. "We're open for discussion, Michael. Always. “

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but Maria interrupted him before he could. "We need to go on the offensive. Now. We need to stop letting them chase us. “

Michael nodded, as did Isabel. Kyle spread his hands and asked, "How exactly do you propose we take on the federal government? “

"Maybe it's time we started playing their game," Isabel said, her voice cold. "If they want to kill us, we kill them first. No mercy. “

"If we do that," Liz said, shaking her head, "then we really will be terrorists. “

"It's not like we haven't done it before," Isabel said. "I killed Congresswoman Whitaker, Sheriff Valenti killed that alien hunter and Agent Pierce, Jesse took out that government agent, we've all killed Skins… “

"Not all of us," Kyle muttered.

"And that's not even mentioning the people who've died because of us. Topolsky, Grant Sorenson…" Isabel's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, how about Alex?" Liz said, sarcasm in her voice.

"And all the people Tess killed on that military base? “

"They probably wouldn't even be after us if Tess hadn't come back," Michael said. "It was her spaceship crashing that sicced the Special Unit on us again. “

Max held up his hands. "Hold on. As much as I hate Tess for what she did… as much as we all hate Tess… there's no way the Special Unit could have mobilized fast enough to come after us when she blew up Rogers. “

"Max is right," Isabel said, nodding. "Nasedo might have dismantled most of the Special Unit when he was posing as Pierce, but it couldn't have gone away completely. They've probably just been gathering information and building up their strength, waiting for the right moment to strike. “

A little girl squealed in the water while another child splashed her, and an older woman quickly hurried over to the girl's side. Kyle turned to look, his expression sad. "You know, we got away, but we left the others behind. How do we know they won't go after our parents? How do we know they haven't already?" He massaged his temple with one hand and added, "I've been getting some fairly strong impressions that somethings very wrong back home. “

They all fell silent for the moment. Finally, Isabel spoke. "I can try to dreamwalk them again. “

"Too far away" Michael said. "You've already tried it. “

"Maybe Kyle and I can figure out some way to amplify my powers using whatevers going on with him," Isabel said. "It might give me enough power. “

"We don't know what's going on with me," Kyle said. "And until we do, I'd rather not push these new powers of mine along too quickly, thank you. “

Across the highway, on the north side, a train blew its whistle as it approached the scenic stop. They all watched as it whizzed by, boxcar after boxcar moving parallel to the highway.

"How long will it be before somebody else goes public with our pictures?" Maria asked. "All of our pictures? Yesterday's shopping trip didn't exactly fit into the quiet category. J. Lo and her entire entourage couldn't have made a bigger splash than we did. “

"I still don't think they want our pictures out there," Liz said. "The Special Unit guys, 1 mean. I'm betting that they aren't happy about the news leaks. “

"I agree," Kyle said. "So what if we took it public? Come out of the alien closet ourselves. “

They all turned to look at him as if he were crazy, but Michael was the one who actually said it. "You're insane, Valenti. What, do you think the American public is going to just accept that they've got aliens living among them? And exactly what gives you the idea that even if they did, they'd accept that three teenagers are actually alien royalty from another planet? “

Max motioned downward with his hand, looking around at the few people who surrounded them. How much had they heard? "A little quieter, Michael. “

Maria slapped both her hands onto the table. "You know what? I'm getting really tired of this. None of us has a normal life now, and none of us are even thinking about a normal life in the future. That is just not acceptable*. They've taken our futures from us! “

The others nodded, and Maria continued. "We thought we could be the good little aliens and sidekicks, traveling around the countiy in our Mystery Machine, righting wrongs and doing good deeds. Well, that's a load of crap! We're in danger. Our families are probably in danger. The Special Unit isn't going to leave us alone. Your alien adversaries aren't going to leave us alone. So what the heck do we do? Do we keep running, or do we turn around, stand our ground, and fight? “

As Maria sat down, her rage apparently spent for the moment, Max looked around the table at the others. Michael and Isabel, Liz and Maria, Kyle… they were all at a crossroads.

But he could see it in their eyes. He didn't need psychic powers to read what was in their minds.

It's time to fight back.

To be concluded in TURNABOUT

Andy Mangels is the coauthor of the Roswell novels Skeletons in the Closet and Turnabout, coming soon, with Michael A. Martin, as well as a number of Star Trek novels, e-books, and comic book projects. Flying solo, he is also the author of Animation on DVD: The Ultimate Guide, as well as the best-selling book Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Characters, plus Beyond Mulder and Scully: The Mysterious Characters of The X-Files and From Scream to Dawson 's Creek: The Phenomenal Career of Kevin Williamson.

Mangels has written for Hollywood Reporter, The Advocate, fust Out, Cinescape, Gauntlet, Dreamwatch, Sd -Fi Universe, SFX, Anime Invasion, Outweek, Frontiers, Portland Mercury, Comics Buyers Guide, and scores of other entertainment and lifestyle magazines. He has also written licensed material based on properties of Lucasfilm, Paramount, New Line Cinema, Universal Studios, Warner Bros., Microsoft, Abrams-Gentile, and Platinum Studios. His comic-book work has been published by DC Comics, Marvel Comics, Dark Horse, Wildstorm, Image, Innovation, WaRP Graphics, Topps MVCreations, and others, and he was the editor of the award-winning Gay Comics anthology for eight years. He has also written DVD supplemental material and liner notes for Anchor Bay.

In what little spare time he has, he likes to country dance and collect uniforms and Wonder Woman memorabilia. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his longtime partner, Don Hood, and their dog, Bella.

Visit his Web site at www.andymangels.com.

Michael A. Martin, whose solo short fiction has appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy amp; Science Fiction, is also coauthor (with Andy Mangels) of last year's Skeletons in the Closet and the forthcoming Turnabout, both Roswell novels. Martin and Mangels also cowrote Star Trek The Next Generation Section 31… Rogue; Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Mission: Gamma Book Three… Cathedral; the forthcoming Star Trek: Starfleet Corps of Engineers #30 and #31 (Ishtar Rising, books 1 and 2); and Star Trek The Lost Era; 2298… The Sundered.

Martin was the regular cowriter (also with Andy) of Marvel Comics' monthly Star Trek: Deep Space Nine comic-book series, and has generated heaps of copy for Atlas Editions' Star Trek Universe subscription card series. He has written for Star Trek Monthly, Dreamwatch, Grolier Books, Wild-storm, Platinum Studios, and Gareth Stevens, Inc., for whom he has penned several World Almanac Library of the States nonfiction books.

Martin lives and works in an ancient house in Portland, Oregon, surrounded by his wife, Jennifer J. Dottery, their two boys, James and William, and much love and laughter.

ROSWELL “

Read all the books in the new series.

Shades

Skeletons In The Closet

Dreamwalk

Quarantine

A New Beginning

Nightscape

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Loose Ends

No Gooddeed

Little Green Men

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#1 The Outsider

#2 The Wild One

#3 The Seeker

#4 The Watcher

#5 The Intruder

#6 The Stowaway

#7 The Vanished

#8 The Rebel

#9 The Dark One

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