 
# A New World

A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Chaos Series

Book 1

Published by "Edo-chan" at Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 Edo-chan

First Published January 2013

Revised February 2014

Cover Illustration by Sexy Kat

http://sexy-kat.deviantart.com/

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

http://www.edo-hrzic.com/

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of an Offer!

Chapter Two

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Tenants!

Chapter Three

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of a Library!

Irish Stew

Chapter Four

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Silver!

Chapter Five

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Working!

Chapter Six

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Neighbors!

Chapter Seven

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Phoning Home!

Chapter Eight

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of More Training!

Chapter Nine

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Driving!

Talsenia

Chapter Ten

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Conflict!

Chapter Eleven

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Halloween!

Chapter Twelve

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Interviews!

Pumpkin Croquettes

Afterword

## Chapter One

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of an Offer!

Kenaeth Goldwrite was watering plants on the red wooden deck behind his house. It was a July summer: hot, not to mention humid. It had rained a few days earlier, but the mugginess just wouldn't go away.

Since he was outside, he had the radio on to listen to through an open window in the dining room. He had a talk radio station on, and it had broken for a commercial. Ken used that as a signal to take a break from watering for a while. He looked at his watch and realized it was noon, and decided to stop longer for lunch.

He pulled a hand towel off of his shoulder and wiped his brow. He noticed his reflection in the glass of one of the windows. His red hair was too dark for summer, and since childhood it had absorbed an abnormal amount of sunlight. His hair was getting a little too long for his taste, and he made a mental note to get it cut soon.

A bulletin chimed in as a commercial.

"Have you ever thought about sharing your culture with others that know little about Earth? Have you thought about someone from another planet, and learning about them? The Earth-Entine Planetary Commission is starting a program for otherworlders from planets in the Entine Republic to stay on Earth. Representatives will be in your area soon. Here's your chance to make a positive impression on those from galaxies far away!"

Aliens.

The way the story went, aliens – or 'otherworlders' was the appropriate term – made themselves known to Earth about five years prior. They were from a galactic conglomerate known as the Entine Republic. It was back when he was twenty and in his second year of college. Ken remembered it quite well, since news and interviews were broadcast on every news outlet for weeks.

Ken didn't really care about aliens being on Earth. As long as they followed the rules and didn't cause trouble, it didn't matter to him. They could live next door for all he cared. He only cared about making a living. He wasn't working for various reasons, so money was a bit tight. He had some inheritance left over from when his parents passed away, but even that wouldn't last forever.

Ken looked up at the sky. Going into outer space might have been really spectacular. One teenager from around the same area Ken was living in was chosen as the first to go up when the aliens came knocking on the door of planet Earth. He'd been about three years younger than Ken at the time.

To Ken, life was boring.

He shrugged, mourning his no-luck life. He scanned his big back yard, realizing he would have to mow it in a day or so, along with the front yard. That caused him to remember he needed to go to Misses Ling's house, his next door neighbor, and mow her front and back yards as well.

He went right from the deck though the back door directly into the kitchen to make some lunch. He decided on a sandwich, a little macaroni and cheese, and a drink.

Pulling the macaroni and cheese box out of the pantry caused him to knock over some junk mail he had set on the counter next to the stove. He pulled out the box, bent down, and picked up the mail. He tossed it toward the trash can, after mentally complaining to himself that they should at least write his name correctly. Most of the junk mail he received was addressed to 'Kenneth Goldwrite.' Most people tried to pronounce his first name that way, but his parents wanted the name for their first child to sound unique, so it was pronounced 'Ken-eighth.'

He'd opened the box and was about to dump the macaroni into the boiling water when he heard the doorbell. He considered ignoring it when he heard the bell for the second time.

"Always when I'm in the middle of something," he muttered.

He turned the burner off and walked down the stairs to the landing of his split-foyer home and opened the door after the third ring of the doorbell.

A woman with black hair and dressed in a dark blue business suit was standing on his welcome mat. She was holding a briefcase. Ken thought she was nuts for wearing dark clothing on a hot summer day.

"Good afternoon," she said, giving him a bright smile.

"Good afternoon," he said back, with no smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering—"

"I'm not interested in buying anything," Ken cut her off.

"No, I'm not here to sell anything—"

"Not interested in any surveys, either."

"It's . . . not entirely a survey," she said, getting a little flustered.

"Okay. What is it?"

"Have you considered opening your home as part of an exchange program?"

"Exchange program?"

"Yes, the Entine Interplanetary Exchange."

Ken remembered the radio commercial from earlier. "Oh. The aliens, right?"

"Yes. The exchange program is going to be in full swing in the next few months. Of course, participants are looking for cultural immersion and experience—"

"Not interested," Ken cut her off again.

"I see," she responded, sadly. "Thank you for your time," she said with another smile. Ken knew it was forced. She turned and walked back down the sidewalk.

Ken had his own problems. Taking care of the house, looking for work, doing his best with what little he had. If he had problems taking care of himself, how could he even consider showing someone the ropes on planet Earth? The empty house was a hassle in and of itself.

Empty?

Ken reflected back on what he had thought to himself earlier in the day: Life was boring.

He opened the screen door and saw the woman as she headed around the side of the house to the driveway.

"Wait!" he shouted.

She peeked her head back around to respond. "Yes?"

"I've reconsidered."

* * *

Ken handed her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, Miss . . . speaking of which, I didn't get your name."

"Nanaia. Thank you." She took the cup. "You didn't have to go through the trouble of making any."

Ken sat down on the sofa across from her seat. "I already had a pot brewing, so it's no trouble." He took a sip from his own cup. "Now, what is this exchange program about? I mean, there's got to be more to it than the little introduction you give when knocking on people's doors."

"Quite right. I'm honestly not sure about every detail myself."

"Come again?"

"I'm a realtor. I was handed this assignment about three days ago. My name was given to someone higher up on the food chain, since I know this area."

Ken let the skepticism show on his face.

"Hey, don't give me that look. I've read through the material. It's actually not that different than a normal exchange program."

"Never been in one, so I can't relate. But you would think there're a lot of logistics involved. Languages, passports – or what they use for passports – etcetera."

"Probably. But that's beyond the scope of what I'm here for. I've only been asked to find prospective lodging."

"I see. Is there an application or anything?"

Nanaia opened her briefcase and pulled out a folder and a small stack of paper, stapled together. "This is the application, and an introductory guide." She passed them over the coffee table.

Ken took them, reached to the side of the sofa, and picked up a thick, hardbound art book to write on, and then he leaned over and grabbed a pen from the coffee table. He flipped through the application. "Doesn't seem to be too many questions on it."

"Well, this is just the first step. I'll hand over the applications to one of the coordinators, and after compiling the entries, a selection process will narrow down the candidates."

"Seems simple enough. Just information about my house, right?"

"Yes. Number of rooms, bathrooms, and living areas."

"Let's see. Four open rooms, two open bathrooms, one with bath and shower."

"Wow. That many rooms?"

"Yeah. My father did some remodeling years back."

"I see. Where might your parents be?"

"They passed away a number of years ago."

Nanaia went silent. "I'm . . . sorry. I guess I shouldn't have asked."

"It's not a problem. I've gotten over it. Well, I do have a younger sister."

"Where is she?"

"Somewhere in Europe spending whatever money she received in the inheritance. But for all I know, she could be on the west coast, and married with three kids."

She gave him a confused look.

"We lost touch after my parents passed on. Plus, we were never that close to begin with."

"I see," she fumbled with the words, regretting opening up the can of worms known as Ken's family history.

"Done," Ken said as he signed his name and dated the last page. He handed the application back to her, and put the art book on the cushion next to him.

She looked over the application. "Do you pronounce your name 'Kenneth'?"

"No. It's 'Ken-eighth.' You know, like the number. If you don't mind me asking, how many applications have you received?"

She sighed. "Truthfully speaking, you're the first one."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was getting pretty worried that I wouldn't find anyone."

Ken leaned back. "Well, you have to take it from the perspective that most people don't even want people they don't know from their own planet staying with them, so people from another planet would be out of the question."

"I guess you do have a point. But tell me something."

"Fire away."

"Why did you reconsider?"

"Dunno." Ken continued. "Maybe a dose of chaos would be good for me."

"If that's what you think, I'm not going to complain." She put the application into her briefcase, and snapped it shut. "It should be about two months before you hear anything."

Ken shrugged. "I'm not getting my hopes up."

She stood. "Thank you for the coffee. I should be moving on now. I appreciate your time."

"Good luck on the rest of the search. I'll show you out."

They walked down the stairs, and Ken closed and locked the door after she left.

A dose of chaos. He looked for a reason that he had filled out the application, but couldn't find one other than he was simply looking for something to fill the void.

It was strange. The house seemed even emptier when the woman left.

Ken sighed and went back to making lunch.

* * *

Ken went next door to the house of a dear neighbor, Misses Ling. She had helped him out when his parents passed on, and she had lost her husband around the same time. Her two children were grown and had left the family home years ago. He had visited her home many times when he was younger, but didn't often have much contact with her children, since they were far older than he was. They made visits two or three times a year, around Christmas and Misses Ling's birthday.

She and Ken both lived alone, and relied on each other, and she took to him like he was her son. He went over to her house when she needed help, which usually consisted of odd jobs around her home, fixing things, moving furniture around, mowing the lawn, and the like. Ken was by no means a handyman, but did what he could for her.

He checked the house and saw her car wasn't there, so he started the ritual he did every week and a half during the summer: he checked the gas in her riding lawn mower, filled it up if there was a need, and mowed the back yard.

It took him less time than he thought, and since it was still hot out, took a break underneath the shade of the umbrella on the table on her back patio. Thinking back on it, he should have waited until later in the day so it wouldn't have been so hot.

He heard the back door slide open, and he glanced back to see Misses Ling. She was an older, refined woman with an Asian complexion. She always wore dresses, and her face was framed by red glasses, her hair pulled up into a bun. Some acquaintances of Ken's had commented she had a stern look about her, but he had never seen anything other than a soft expression when she talked to him.

She was carrying a tray with two tea-filled glasses, and a hand towel on it.

He nodded to her. "Good afternoon, Misses Ling. Did you get back while I was mowing?"

"That I did, dear," she said, placing the tray on the table and handing him the towel.

"Thanks." Ken took the cool, damp towel and wiped his face.

"I needed to do a little shopping. I pulled in when you were behind the house. It's rather hot today, so I knew you'd need a drink."

Ken took one of the glasses and sipped the ice tea from it. "Say, a lady was in the neighborhood and stopped by about an exchange program. Did she stop by your house?"

Misses Ling shook her head. "I was out for some time today. What's this about an exchange program?"

"It looks like aliens will be staying with families around the country. Like a home stay, or something like that."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of having anyone else stay in my house. It's enough to take care of one young man who lives next door."

"I think the same about the lady living next to me."

She laughed. "And she stopped by to see if you wanted to offer your house to aliens?"

"She was looking for prospective homes, so that's pretty much it in a nutshell."

"What did you tell her?"

Ken took another drink of his tea. "I filled out an application."

Misses Ling smiled. "It seems like something you would do."

"Come again?"

"What I mean is, you're always helping someone else out with something. I wish you'd be a little more selfish, but then again, that's why you're so dependable."

"If you say so."

"Then there will be someone from another planet staying at your house?"

Ken shrugged. "I'm not sure. It was just an application. She said the commission would be in touch. I don't know anything else."

"It would certainly be exciting."

"A change, at the very least."

Ken finished the last of his iced tea, and put it back on the tray along with the towel. "Thank you for the tea, Misses Ling." He stood up and held out his hand, which she had taught him a long time ago to do for a lady. "Since it's hot out, do you mind if I finish the front lawn later on?"

Misses Ling took his hand, using it to rise from her seat. "That will be fine, dear."

She went into the pocket of her dress, pulled out an envelope, and put it into his hand.

He knew what it was, and shook his head. "I can't take that, Misses Ling."

"Take it, dear."

"If you insist," Ken acquiesced.

She smiled again, and took the tray back into the house.

Ken opened the envelope to find two-hundred dollars. She did things like that. She knew his money wouldn't last forever, and her offering would at least stem the tide. The money would help pay for the utilities and food.

"You're too good to me, Misses Ling," he whispered.

* * *

It was about two months later when he heard a reply. It was morning and Ken had been going through his canned goods in the kitchen pantry when the phone rang. He went to the living room to pick up the cordless phone.

"Hello. Goldwrite residence."

"Would you be Kenaeth Goldwrite, who filled out the Entine Interplanetary Exchange lodging application?" a female voice came over the phone.

"Yes, that would be me."

"Good! My name is Amelta Tayon. I'm with the selection committee."

"I do have to commend you for getting my name right on the first try."

"Nanaia, the lady who took your application, wrote the pronunciation down for me. Did I catch you at a bad time per chance?"

"Talking with you beats going through canned goods any day of the week."

"Good! The reason I've called is two-fold. One, I'm pleased to tell you that you've been selected as one of the finalists in the program."

"Glad to hear it."

"Second, I'm already in the area viewing some other applicants, so would it be too much trouble for me to stop by so that I could see the premises first hand?"

"Not a problem at all."

"Good! It will take me some time, but I should be there in about two hours."

"Got it. I'll be here."

"Good! See you then."

"Likewise."

He pressed the 'hang up' button and replaced the phone on its stand. He considered if it was her habit to add 'Good!' to the beginning of every other sentence, and then went back to finishing up looking at canned goods.

Ken became concerned when it came to the two hour mark and hadn't seen hide or hair of the lady on the phone. He thought she was just running late, and started working outside near the driveway to be there when she arrived.

In the end, it was three hours before she showed up. Ken had been sweeping the driveway when a minivan pulled into the driveway.

The driver turned the minivan off, opened the door, and stuck her head out. "Kenaeth Goldwrite?"

"That's me."

"Good! I'm sorry, but I'm sorely behind schedule."

"Not as if I had much to do."

Amelta was, in a word, cute. It didn't really matter that she had the skin color of a peach, or dark spots that went from her brow, down her face and neck, each about the size of a small chocolate kiss.

She had an exasperated look on her face, as if she was always on the go. One glance at her and anyone could tell she was an oddball: the kind of person that even small animals chase, and one who trips over buckets full of water.

Ken quickly checked to see if there were any buckets of water around, and was relieved to find none.

She fumbled in the back of her car, pulled out a briefcase, then walked up to him, extending her hand. Ken shook it, noting how soft it was. He put the broom against the edge of the windowsill and led her into the bottom floor of the house.

"Here's a living area. I usually stay down here during the summer, because it's cooler."

A couple of feet away, he showed her a storage room, and farther back on the first floor, showed her two bedrooms.

On the top floor, they went through the living room, dining area, kitchen, two more bedrooms, and the bathroom with bath and shower. Ken was using the master bedroom, so it was off limits to any guests.

He led her back out to the living room, and she sat down on the sofa as Ken made coffee. Amelta was writing down notes at an insane pace, and as he brought over her coffee, glanced down and saw the notes that were written in some alien language. He placed her cup on the coffee table in front of her, but she seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

Without looking up from her memo pad, she picked up the cup and started gulping down the coffee.

"Hey, that's—"

He wanted to say it was really hot, but she drank it like it was lukewarm. He swore she had chugged the whole cup.

"Whew!" She put the cup down, and then continued: "When can you start having guests?"

"Wait. I've been selected already?"

"Yes. I came today to give your house a final look and meet you in person."

"I guess I passed then."

"That you did. To get back to the question, when can you start having tenants?"

Ken thought a moment. "Ideally, since this is short notice, I'd like a week to do some final preparations. Cleaning, moving of some personal items, and other miscellaneous tasks."

"That seems fair. I have a group coming in ten days. Does that give you enough time?"

"More than enough, I think."

"Good! It's nice to see the house is furnished. I believe Nanaia said you have a sister, correct?"

"Yes, but she doesn't live here."

"Married?"

"I don't think she is, but I don't really know."

"No, no. I meant you."

"Not to my knowledge."

"Did Nanaia talk about compensation?"

He thought back to two months ago. "Come to think of it, I don't think she did. I guess there is more upkeep than if there was only one person in the house."

"Of course. Health care, including dental and vision, are included for you, the landlord. And remuneration is one-thousand dollars per month."

"That seems low, but we can probably make do with it."

"Per guest."

"Per . . . guest? How many people are going to be staying here?"

"Well, you have four rooms, so at least four. Plus, one of the guests I'm thinking of doesn't take up much room."

Ken's attention was caught on the 'doesn't take up much room.' Was the tenant the size of a pixie?

Amelta continued. "That's a total of five I have in mind for this place."

"Five tenants!? I could handle one or two, but five is over doing it."

"If you can handle two, what's a few more?"

Ken's mouth went agape. A few more? They weren't pets; they were people . . . or aliens . . . or alien people. Something like that.

"Good! Then it's decided," she said.

Ken hadn't given her a response, so she must have assumed it was all right. Most people would think that if someone was staring at you with their mouth hanging wide open, they must have some reservations about what you were asking them.

Except for the person sitting in front of him. Ken shrugged, and then something dawned on him.

"That's five grand in all, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's paid out by the commission, funneled from their respective planets. However, there is one thing that I must tell you," and her face took on a serious look. "This is a cultural exchange. Each of the tenants has their own job or such role while on Earth. Your goal is to teach them cultural aspects of Earth."

"Like what?"

"That's up to you to decide. But you have to take an active part in their education. It's not as simple as just offering them a place to eat and sleep."

"Do they understand English? I know a little bit of Entine Standard from a DVD I got as a door prize, but that's about it."

"Not to worry. One of the prerequisites for taking part in this program is at least a basic mastery of the language of the country they will stay in."

"So, I'm part teacher, part dorm father?"

"Precisely!"

"I think I get the picture. Well, no choice but to do my best."

"Good! You know, this house will be perfect for the tenants I have in mind. They wanted some place quiet. Not quite the city, not quite the country, but somewhere in the middle."

"The suburbs?"

"Yes."

"I guess we'll see how this goes."

Ken thought this was going much smoother than anticipated. The commission or group must have put a lot of thought into it. On the other hand, Earth was just a new member of the Entine Republic; there was probably a template for this kind of exchange floating somewhere in the headquarters of a galactic public relations office.

"I do have a question about how things should go if, and I'm just preparing here, something doesn't turn out right?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What if a tenant doesn't take well to the planet, or there are problems and I would no longer want them in my house? I know it's a blunt question."

Amelta nodded, understanding. "There are times when participants aren't up to the challenge. There are clauses in the contract that state if there are any problems, the handler – me – will investigate it, and decide whether or not if the tenant should be removed from the current lodging. A tenant can also leave of their own free will."

Ken stopped in mid-drink. "Is there a contract?"

Her face went blank. "I forgot to give it to you!"

She went into her briefcase and pulled out the contract.

"If you hadn't reminded me, I would have walked out of here without you signing it!"

Ken resisted the urge to give her pitiful look. She put two contracts in front of him, and both had been marked with removable stickers on the side. He opened each page and quickly read through for anything out of the ordinary. Finding none, he signed each of the pages that were marked.

"I'll take this one, and the other is yours to keep."

"Thank you."

"No. Thank you. I think the participants are going to enjoy it on Earth."

"Last question: how long are they going to be staying here?"

"It's up to the tenant if they want to renew their own contracts. They will do that yearly, if you have no issues with the tenant continuing to stay. The program is for three years, but in extenuating circumstances can be extended."

"I see."

She put her documents into her briefcase, stood up, and extended her hand. Ken rose and shook it.

"I'll see you in ten days, Mister Goldwrite. If any of the tenants show up a little before I do, just sit tight."

"They're not all going to be arriving with you?"

"Just between you and me, galactic transport isn't as reliable as you might think it is. It's kind of like airlines on this planet. Weather and other things can delay their arrival."

"Here's hoping they're quiet, and everything will be stress free."

"I do have one last question for you, though."

"Yes?"

"You didn't seem particularly concerned with my appearance, and didn't even make any comments about knowing your language. I mean, I can't be mistaken as being from this planet."

Ken shrugged. "Was I supposed to?"

Amelta shook her head, and gave a relieved smile. "I suppose not. Other landlords have when I showed up, and it's . . . refreshing to meet someone who didn't."

## Chapter Two

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Tenants!

Ken wasn't in a hurry. He had plenty of time, and there wasn't much to clean or move. Most of the furniture was empty of anything important, and had been for years. There were a few books on miscellaneous shelves and a sweater or two in the closets, but everything could be done in a day, two at the most.

It was three days later when the money was transferred to his bank account. He spent two days replacing towels, sheets, pillows and other things, putting the old ones into large plastic tubs in the downstairs storage room.

A day before they were to arrive, Ken bought enough food for a cookout for eight, in case the woman who gave him the application and Amelta showed up.

"Hopefully they're not vegetarians."

He packed what he could in the refrigerator and freezer, and chuckled. It was the first time in years he'd seen it resemble 'full.'

A few days later, Ken was in the driveway sweeping away the dust and leaves from the previous day's wind when the first tenant showed up.

He heard a car stop farther down the street. He couldn't see it, but he heard someone get out of the car, said something, and closed the door. He heard rubber grinding on pavement; the car must have made a U-turn, and the sound of the vehicle vanished down the road.

Ken noticed a woman walking up the street, carrying a large duffle bag – something like the military on Earth would use – and holding a small piece of paper. She was looking around as she walked, and stopped in front of Ken's mailbox. She looked at the mailbox, then at the paper, then back at the mailbox. She nodded as if confirming something, then turned toward Ken's house.

"Yes?" Ken asked from down the driveway.

She reacted as if she hadn't seen him in the first place. She walked up the driveway to meet him.

"This is 7-3 Mary Drive, correct?"

"That it is."

She looked completely human. Nothing about her outward appearance set off any bells except for the odd style of dress and the—

—sheathed . . . sword?

She had black hair to her shoulders. It looked like she was wearing some sort of uniform. It was dark blue, with a crimson trim on her slacks going down to her ankles.

"Then you're Kenaeth Goldwrite?"

"That I am, but everyone calls me Ken. Are you one of my tenants?"

She tipped her head toward him. When she looked directly at him again, he noticed she had striking eyes: the left was jade green and the right was ice blue.

"My name is Cassandra Pyredom. Thank you for your hospitality."

Ken felt a little embarrassed, being thanked so formally. "Would you like me to help you with your bag?"

"No. I can handle it."

"I guess the others are due any time—"

Two pure white feathers drifted down right in front of them. One even lightly bumped Ken on the nose before it continued to the ground. Ken and Cassandra looked up. A woman, with blonde hair and decked out in a white and green dress was about fifty feet off the ground and descending, flapping her—

—wings!?

"Holy . . . moly . . ." was all Ken could say.

The woman descended on the edge of the driveway, and looked toward Ken and Cassandra.

She walked up to Ken and bowed. "Kenaeth Goldwrite?"

"Y . . . yes . . ." Ken muttered, trying very hard not to be distracted by her large 'endowments.'

Boing.

"I am Angelica Elegance. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She turned to Cassandra. "Your wife, perhaps?"

"No!" Ken and Cassandra shouted at the same time.

"Oh my," he reacted, putting her hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

"Um, do you have any bags?"

"Mine arrived on an earlier flight. Amelta said she would deliver them when she came here today."

"Okay. I guess the others are due any time—"

They heard a low volume, panicked voice that sounded something like "Watch out! I can't stop!"

Something fast hit Ken on the side of the head. It didn't hurt, but the surprise of it all knocked him off balance, and he fell to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" the voice said.

Ken sat up and looked up at his first two guests, then, not finding a third, looked around, and then noticed the woman standing near his left foot.

"Are you all right?" she asked, fluttering her own pair of gossamer wings. "I'm really sorry. I was just flying too fast and couldn't stop myself with my bag."

"Not a problem. Just surprised me a—Geez, you're tiny!" Ken shouted.

She certainly was tiny, only being about a foot tall, and dressed in a bodysuit, with four translucent wings sprouting from her back.

Ken thought back when Amelta had told him that one didn't take up much room.

She was most certainly pixie-sized.

She had a small suitcase next to her. Her hair was a little longer than Cassandra's, and the tips seemed to be white.

She'd been staring up at him with a worried look on her face until he said the word 'tiny,' and she frowned.

"Aww. I'm sorry." Ken stood up, and as he did, she fluttered up with him.

"Um," she began, "could you stick out your hand?"

"Like this?"

"Palm side up."

Ken did so and she landed on his palm. She was very light, almost half the weight of an apple.

"I'm Katrina Faerblood. Thank you for letting me stay here."

"My, aren't you a cute one?"

Katrina shyly smiled, and then turned to the other two guests. "Who are they?"

Ken pointed to Cassandra and said "That's Cassandra, and the one with the wings is Angelica."

"Hello!" Katrina said in a cheerful voice.

"Nice to meet you," Angelica said. And then the dam broke. She scooped Katrina up in both hands. "You're absolutely adorable!"

"Th-Thank you . . ." Katrina replied, trying to maintain her composure. "It's getting . . . a little hard . . . to . . . breathe . . ."

Angelica let her go, and Katrina took a deep breath.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Cassandra nodded to the newcomer.

Katrina went down, picked up her suitcase, and then went back up to Ken's hand.

Ken looked around. "I guess the others are due any time—"

All four of them turned when they heard a vehicle pull up in the driveway. It was a black, stretch limo.

"Wow," they all breathed in unison.

A sharply dressed chauffer exited the driver's seat, and opened up the rear door on the driver's side.

"If you would, miss."

A woman, decked out in what Ken could only think was an expensive dress, stepped out. She looked about with a haughty turn of her head.

"Not entirely what I expected, but I suppose it will do."

As she ran her hands through her long brown hair, Ken lifted an eyebrow at her, hoping that there was some mistake and someone who would say something like that right off the bat would not be staying at his house.

The girl's gaze finally came to rest on Ken and his entourage. She walked forward, and stopped in front of them.

"Kenaeth Goldwrite?"

"Uh . . . yes. And you are?"

"Natalia Greentyme. I'll be staying here, starting today."

The chauffer had finished unloading the eighth suitcase from the limo's trunk, and put them close to the house.

Once he had put the last one down, Natalia glanced back at him and said, "You can leave now."

"Understood, miss."

He got back into the limo, backed out of the driveway, and disappeared down the road.

"Well then," Natalia continued, "could you show me to my room?"

Ken wanted to ask her why she didn't even want to know the names of the other tenants, but mentally shrugged. "That might be a good idea for everyone."

A familiar minivan pulled into the driveway. Ken could see Amelta through the windshield, and someone in the passenger's seat.

She got out of the van. "Good! Everyone is here!"

The passenger's side door opened, and a petite woman stepped out. She had short black hair, and oddly enough, dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt.

"Let's see. It should be Cassandra Pyredom, Angelica Elegance, Katrinia Faerblood, Natalia Greentyme, and the last one is Alisa Maestral."

Alisa didn't even blink.

"Shall we all go inside?" Amelta said.

"Do you want to turn off your minivan first?" Ken asked.

Amelta's face faulted, and she ran back to her vehicle.

* * *

"So, if all of you have your paperwork, I'll sign off on them."

Each of them handed over a sheet of some kind of plastic, and Amelta started looking over them.

Sounds of gasping made their way up the stairs, and the source of it – Ken – collapsed at the top of the landing.

Katrina fluttered down next to his side. "Are you all right?"

Ken's hand shot out and pointed directly at Natalia. "You! You're taking a room on the bottom floor!"

Natalia nodded. "That was the intention."

"What do you have in those bags!? Concrete blocks!?"

"It's none of your business."

Amelta looked unsympathetically toward him. "Sorry, Ken. Can you make some coffee?"

"At least let me put my lungs back in my body, would you?"

Katrina sympathetically patted him on the head.

* * *

"I've got cell phones for all of you," Amelta said, pointing to the five cellular phones strewn out on the coffee table. "This will allow you to get in contact with me in case anything happens. Oh, and I've programmed all the phone numbers of the other phones into each of them, including my cell phone and Ken's home phone. You'll just have to change the names in the address books."

The tenants looked at the colors.

"Katrina, I'm sorry. They don't make them in your size."

Katrina frowned.

"I'll take the green one." Angelica picked up her phone.

"I want the brown one," Natalia said, taking hers.

Cassandra put her hand on the blue one. "I'll have the blue one."

"I'll take the black one," Alisa said.

Ken came in from the kitchen with a tray of coffee cups. As he came around, Amelta picked up a cup.

"Ken, there's a phone for you, too," she said.

"What color?"

Katrina patted the only one left. "Pink!"

* * *

"Now that we're all here, why don't we go over the introductions?"

Cassandra stood up from the sofa. "Cassandra Pyredom, from the planet Talsenia. I'm twenty-two, and I'm here attending a local college for a linguistics degree."

Ken raised his hand. "Question."

"Yes?"

"What's with the sword? I mean, there's no one I know of that walks around with one."

"It's customary on Talsenia."

"Everyone carries a weapon?" Angelica asked.

"The overwhelming majority of females do, as part of the warrior caste."

"You have a caste system?"

"I think 'caste' may be the closest word. Perhaps 'role,' or 'designation of duties' would better explain it. In Talsenia, women occupy the majority of combat and physical roles. Men take support roles."

"Well, women are superior in leadership roles," Natalia chimed in.

Cassandra shook her head. "It's not a matter of superiority. We have clearly defined positions. Even verbally degrading the positions can lead to punishments. Your comment there would have lead to an inquiry. But we're not on Talsenia."

She sat down.

"O-Okay," Amelta tried to recover, "next?"

Angelica stood up.

Boing.

"Angelica Elegance. I'm from Falldine, and twenty-three years old. I'm working as a nurse at a local hospital."

Ken thought it would be really nice to be taken care of by a nurse like her.

Katrina spoke up. "Does everyone on Falldine have wings?"

"Yes."

"Wow!"

Ken looked at Katrina. "Um, you do know you have your own wings, right?"

"But not like those!"

Ken could only chuckle. Then he took a look at Angelica's wings. They weren't large ones like in pictures of angels, but a little smaller and thinner. They were obviously strong enough to carry her. He did have another concern.

"Don't your wings get in the way? I can't imagine what it's like to sleep with those."

"Oh, they're compact. If I keep them out, they do get in the way. I remember knocking over things a lot when I was younger. They're actually very flexible."

And then the wings pulled closer to her back, and the lower ends wrapped around her waist.

"See? This is how I usually sleep."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

Angelica cocked her head to the side, thinking. "Not particularly. It's no different than wrapping your arms around your body and sleeping."

"Next?" Amelta called out.

"Me, me, me!" Katrina shouted, holding her hand up and jumping up and down on the sofa cushion.

"All right, Katrina, your turn," Amelta conceded, amused.

Katrina floated to the coffee table, and cleared her throat. "I'm Katrina Faerblood, from the distant planet of Betlin, orbiting the star known as Aiseria. I'm nineteen years old."

"So," Ken asked the obvious question concerning her slight stature, "what is it that you do?"

After striking an inspirational pose, she stated "I'm a Time Cataloguer!"

"Time Cataloguer?" everyone remarked, aloud.

"Oh, I get it!" Angelica said. "Sort of like a living stopwatch."

"Incorrect."

Everyone turned to the girl who had said nothing until that point: Alisa.

"A Time Cataloguer is a high-level position among Betlinians, which measures and documents the flow of time and effects of it in relation to the age, expansion and reduction of the universe."

"Yep!" Katrina gave a smug look.

"You mean like that space-time continuum thing?" Ken asked.

"Precisely!"

"You can control time!?"

"Me, personally? No, but some people I know can nidj . . . nadj . . ." she tilted her head in confusion.

"'Nudge'?" Ken offered.

"Yeah! That's the word I was looking for."

"What do you mean by 'nudge'?"

"Time is fluid and can easily be changed, given the proper equipment and frequency. You see, each of the infinite strands of time has a binding frequency. So, if you were to grab a hold of that frequency and either reduce or increase the wavelength, you could cause minute variations—"

The only other person in the room who knew what she was talking about was Alisa. And she was nodding.

Katrina panicked. "I'm sorry! I'll be quiet now," she sat down, embarrassed.

"Who's next?" Amelta said.

"That will be me!" Natalia triumphantly shouted. "I am Natalia Greentyme, from planet Forshe, and twenty-three. I'm here to foster distribution contacts for my father's company."

"What does your father do?" Cassandra asked.

"He's the head of a cosmetics corporation."

"Wait," Cassandra remarked in a shocked voice. "You mean THE Greentyme Cosmetics conglomerate?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

Ken was confused, and leaned toward Cassandra. "Is the company big?"

"Big? It has locations and buildings on every major business world in the Entine Republic. 'Big' wouldn't begin to describe it."

"So, she's rich?"

"'Rich' wouldn't be enough to describe her."

Natalia bent down over Ken. "Impressed?"

"Not really. I was just wondering why someone rich would be staying at my house, of all places, poor as I am.

"Huh?"

"I mean, couldn't you have just bought your own home here?"

"That's true," Cassandra said.

"I can't argue with that point," Natalia agreed, though bitterly. "My father wanted me to get some culture and experience in another setting, preferably on some other planet that doesn't know me or my family."

"So that you don't have anyone hounding you for money or prestige. Is that it?" Angelica asked.

"Yes. Probably."

"Probably?"

"My father's rather distant when it comes to things like that." Natalia shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. "But that's no matter. I'm here, and that's what counts." Then she sat back down.

Amelta leaned toward Ken and whispered, "Ken, her father is a very big donor to this program, and has been so for many years. It would only be natural for us to have her in the exchange program."

Ken nodded in agreement, but had to wonder why she hadn't been in the program earlier if that was the case.

Amelta cleared her throat. "Then that leaves only one guest."

The silent-until-just-a-little-while-ago-woman stood up and vacantly swung her gaze around. "Alisa Maestral. I'm from Kodominé. I'm working at a local college with computers and electronics. I'm twenty-two years old." Then she sat down.

That's it? Short introduction, to say the least. Ken thought she would have gone into some dissertation about her planet, her job, or just a general overview of the final frontier called 'space.'

"Good!" Amelta said to break the silence. "I'll do my introduction. I'll be your handler, so to speak, in several legal and paperwork affairs. My name, as you may have read from your welcome packets, is Amelta Tayon. If you have any problems, you're free to contact me. You can also stop by my office if you happen to be in the area. And I think that takes care of all the introductions."

Katrina raised her hand. "There's one person who hasn't done an introduction," she happily chirped.

"Come to think of it," Angelica said, turning to Ken.

Ken noticed everyone was staring at him. "Me?"

"Well, everyone else has," she said with a smile.

"Okay, okay." Ken put his coffee cup down and stood up. "You've all probably read my name from the welcome packet, but my full name is Kenaeth Adam Goldwrite, and I'm twenty-five years old. I was born two states away. I will be your landlord while you're living here."

Ken cleared his throat and continued. "I consider myself to be easy-going, and while I expect you to follow the rules of common courtesy, there are two major rules that I need to lay down.

"First, take responsibility for your actions. If you don't do so, I will force you to take responsibility. Second, you will treat everyone that lives here with respect, no matter what background you may have come from. I can take a joke or two like everyone else, but if you go overboard, I'll make sure you regret it.

"Am I being clear on these two rules?"

Everyone slowly nodded, surprised at the seriousness that he put behind his words.

"Splendid. Everyone, I hope you have a good time here."

Amelta nodded. "Good! Now that's all settled, I think I'll get going now."

There was a growl in the room, and it was from somebody's stomach. Amelta gave an embarrassed laugh after patting the source of the sound.

Ken motioned toward the kitchen. "I was going to turn on the grill and have a cookout to celebrate the arrival of my new guests, but it looks like your handler is also going to join us for a barbeque."

"Barbe—what?" his guests said in unison.

* * *

"Well, what do you think of them?" Amelta asked cautiously.

The tenants had moved onto the deck in the back yard, near where the grill was. Ken and Amelta were in the kitchen. He was hand mixing ground beef, onions and some spices together in a large bowl. He hadn't cooked handmade hamburgers in a long time.

"They're a bunch of kids," Ken laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"They may not seem to be so at first glance, but they're just a group of scared little girls."

"Are you surprised? They're in a completely different environment than their own. It's no wonder they're scared."

"I don't know if I can relate. I've moved only once in my life." Ken put a patty together, and then placed it on a plate next to the mixing bowl.

"That's a lot different than a couple of galaxies, which makes it all the more interesting."

"For who? Me?"

"Yes. Playing teacher, father and mother, along with older brother . . . You've got your work cut out for you."

"I didn't volunteer to be a mother."

"I have your signed contract at the office. So, too bad. You're stuck with it."

Ken rolled his eyes. He finished putting the ground beef into patties. He washed his hands, and picked up the plate to take outside.

"I hope everyone likes beef."

"Beef?" Angelica asked.

"Bovine. An animal that lives on this planet. Everyone here eat meat?"

"Yes," Angelica said.

"Yes," Amelta replied.

"Yeah!" Katrina shouted.

"Yes," Cassandra said.

"Somewhat," Natalia said.

"Quite often," Alisa responded flatly.

Alisa's answer scared Ken.

"It'll take some time to cook, so why don't all of you take a walk around the yard? There's a garden right down the stairs. Oh, and does anyone want cheese on their hamburger?"

"Chee—what?" Katrina asked.

"It's made from milk, a calcium source."

"Oh," she replied.

"No problems?"

Nobody voiced any.

"Okay. Do a little exploring and I'll call you all when it's done."

Everyone but Ken and Cassandra walked down the stairs of the deck, and down the small sidewalk.

"You're not going?" Ken asked, putting the hamburgers on the grill.

"No. Not yet."

"I have a personal question."

"Go ahead," she gestured.

"Does everyone from Talsenia have different-colored eyes?"

Cassandra shook her head. "It's not rare, but rather, really uncommon. It's considered a blessing and a hint at destiny."

"Hint at destiny? Are superstitions big on your planet?"

"Not really. Since my eyes are blue and green, my mother thought it was pointing at something. Coincidentally, the opportunity to come here was announced when I was finishing my tertiary schooling. Looking at some of the pictures of this planet, you can see a lot of green and blue."

"A planet of green and blue, huh?"

She nodded.

"Deep . . ."

"I don't put too much stock in superstitions. It's probably just a coincidence," she confided in him.

"Could be. But you can probably talk about that later with the group."

Ken flipped a few of the burgers.

"You don't seem that . . . unnerved that there are people from other planets that will be living in your home."

"Frankly, I'm concerned, but that's more because of the potential cultural misunderstandings and conflicts. For example, I can deal with, say, any issues between myself and one or two other people. But I have to do that and mediate between others who have problems."

"Looks like you've thought this through."

Ken shook his head. "Not particularly."

"Not . . . particularly!?" she echoed, not believing what he just said.

"Well, regardless of what planet people are from, people are people. It'll work out."

"A positive outlook. I like that."

"But what about you? No concerns?"

"Embarrassingly, I'm scared, but . . ." she breathed deeply, and then continued. "Relieved."

"How's that?"

"It seems nice here."

"It is. It's not overly populated, and if you can get over the cow manure smell that comes out during the summer, it's a great place. It also has a low cost of living."

"Cow manure?"

"For fertilizer. Didn't you notice all the farms on the way here?"

"No. I was too nervous to really pay attention. It's my first day. I can't help it."

"Do you normally walk around everywhere with that sword?" Ken asked, pointing to her sword with a spatula.

"I try to. It belonged to my mother."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

Cassandra gave him a confused look, and then realized what he was getting at. "She's still alive. What I should have said was, 'It belonged to my mother, but she gave it to me'."

Ken replaced a few burgers with new ones. "That's a relief. See what I mean? Misunderstandings."

Cassandra nodded and they spent the rest of the time in silence.

Ken finished the hamburgers and brought them into the kitchen.

"Do you want me to call everyone?"

"No, I still need to set up in here."

* * *

"So, here's what you do. Everyone watching?"

Everyone nodded.

"First, open up the bun to create the foundation. Then, take a hamburger patty, and place it on the bottom bun. Put ketchup, mayonnaise and maybe even some mustard on top of the patty, then add some lettuce, tomato, and perhaps an onion. Put the top on, and your hamburger is complete. Add a few chips, and you're done."

Everyone clapped, like they were praising someone who had won a major award at some science conference.

"It's just a hamburger . . ." he assured them.

"What's this?" Katrina fluttered around a green and white two-liter bottle.

"Soda. It's a drink."

Ken pulled out a small cup, reconsidered, found a thimble, washed it out, and poured a little into it. "Here."

Katrina smelled it. "That tickles my nose."

"It's the carbonation in it."

Katrina took a drink. "That's good!"

Cassandra looked at the red-labeled bottle. "I'll take this one."

Angelica pointed to the blue bottle. "I'll try this."

"No one's picked this yet. I want this," Natalia said, staring at the green-labeled bottle.

"This one," Alisa said, tapping a bottle with a bulldog on it.

Amelta silently poured her own drink from the red bottle.

Everyone built their meal, got their drinks, and moved into the living room, using the coffee table as a real table since the one in the dining area was too small to fix six-and-one-sixth persons.

"This is exquisite!" Angelia said after taking a bite.

"I'll say!" Katrina agreed, taking a bite from the hamburger that was almost half as wide as she was tall.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. It's rude," Ken warned them.

Ken noticed Cassandra was still eyeing her cheeseburger suspiciously, not having taken a bite yet. She pursed her lips like making some sort of life-threatening decision, and bit into it. She then immediately stopped and stared down at her cheeseburger in shock.

Ken asked the obvious question: "What's wrong?"

"The combination of additions . . . the delectable ballet of meat and cheese, the crisp feel of lettuce, all in a soft package . . ."

Cassandra looked happy. Really, really happy.

"Um, it's just a cheeseburger," Ken tried to tell her.

She wasn't listening.

"Ken," Angelica asked.

"Yes, what—You're finished already!? Did you even chew!?"

"I did. It was good I couldn't stop."

"As long as you liked it. Go get another one if—"

She was already out of her seat and back in the kitchen.

"I was wondering, don't you have any family?" Cassandra asked.

"You mean parents, brothers and sisters, etcetera?"

"Yes."

"My parents died a few of years ago."

The room came to a dead silence. It was not the answer anyone was expecting to hear. Ken immediately noticed it. Most people reacted that way; even the woman who initially came to give him the application. He decided to move the conversation forward. "I do have a younger sister who's still alive. When the folks passed away, I got the house and some money, and my sister got money, and she promptly decided to take a trip through Europe."

"Where is she now?" Angelica asked, having finally returned to her seat.

"That's a good question. I don't know the answer, nor care."

"Seems a little cold," Natalia remarked.

As if Ken needed anyone to remark on it. "Maybe. You may have gotten the hint, but you can probably tell I don't have a lot of love for my sister. She's too irresponsible."

An uncomfortable silence came across the room again. It wasn't the same as when he told his tenants about his parents, but the uneasiness wasn't difficult to spot.

"What about everyone else?" Ken asked, trying to change the conversation away from his family.

"I have a brother and two younger sisters," Angelica said. "My father's a police officer and my mother runs a candy store."

"I'm an only child," Katrina said. "Both my parents are mechanics now."

"What about that 'time catalogue' thing?"

"That? Well, that's in my genes. See how the ends of my hair are white? That's the sign of someone who's sensitive to time."

"My father is, of course, alive," Natalia said. "My mother passed away when I was young. Most of my teachers and my nanny raised me until I was able to make choices on my own. I'm an only child."

Alisa raised her hand to be next, surprisingly.

"Um . . . go ahead," Ken said, hesitantly.

"My father is an electrical engineer, and my mother takes care of the home. I have an older brother."

"Are they as quiet as you?"

"Quieter."

Ken had trouble imagining that. Were they invisible phantoms or something? He could swear she didn't even make sounds when she moved. She'd make an excellent spy.

Or axe murderer. Ken shuddered when he thought that.

"I guess I'm last," Cassandra said. "I'm an only child. My mother and father are alive and healthy. My mother is retired from the military, and my father is a homemaker."

"Oh! That's what I wanted to ask you," Amelta said, out of the blue with an excited expression.

"Yes?"

"I was reading about courtships on Talsenia. They're really formal, aren't they?"

"They're normal to me, but I guess if you compare them to other cultures, they're formal."

"How so?" Ken inquired. "I mean, on Earth, one gives a ring to the person they want to marry, usually on one knee. Usually it's the man that proposes. Usually."

Cassandra considered what he said for a moment, and nodded. "I guess that's mechanically similar, but there's more symbolism on Talsenia."

"Symbolism?"

Cassandra put her plate aside. "Let's use my parents as an example. My father was my mother's assistant in the military. I should tell you that Talsenian men are normally prohibited from entering the military without a specific skill set, and even then, only under special circumstances. But I'll explain that at another time."

Everyone was listening as she continued.

"They had been in a long campaign in an urban region where the government had collapsed. They had worked together for six years, and strived to rebuild the region.

"My mother was a very hands-on commander, and often took part in battles. My father voiced his concern at the time, for her personal safety, but it was her prerogative. Even when she and her command were accused of embezzling funds and stealing valuables, it was my father's meticulous record-keeping that kept them free and clear."

"So they worked well together," Ken concluded.

"Yes. After those six years, the government made progress, and they were reassigned, being stationed on different planets."

Everyone was listening intently.

"It would take some time, but my mother didn't feel quite right at her new post. It wasn't the station itself or even the people, but she felt something was missing. The missing piece turned out to be my father, and the connection they had made. She took the first opportunity she could to track him down, and actually proposed to him during a dinner party. She was in her uniform and everything."

"Wow! That's romantic!" Katrina said, flying around like a cupid.

"So, she proposed with a ring?" Ken asked.

"No," Cassandra replied. She unhooked the sheath of her saber and held it forward. "She used a blade much like this one."

"Come again? How do you propose with a sword?"

"Truthfully, you're supposed to use a more refined saber for it, crafted specifically to court someone, but my mother felt she had too little time. Anyway, the first step is to unsheathe the sword. Next, both the unsheathed blade and sheath are presented to the intended." She unsheathed the saber, and held it by the pommel in one hand, and the empty sheath in the other. She then oriented her hands so that she had both palms face up, and the saber and sheath lay on her palms, saber first.

"As a weapon is critical to the status of women on Talsenia, this positions herself at her most vulnerable, and thus trusting the intended with her weakness. The next step is for the intended.

"If he refuses, that is it, and it is highly recommended for the intended to state the reason why. However, if he does accept, he will take up the sword, sheathe it, and then turn the blade around and lay it back into her hands in the opposite orientation. In symbolic terms, the woman is the sword and the man is the sheath. The sheathing represents the intended accepting her weakness and faults, and while not in combat, her consort and confidant, the sheath being his 'arms.' It's also appropriate for the intended to wear her sword until the wedding ceremony. It's also culturally significant and 'allowed' for the woman to cry if her proposal is accepted."

"Did your mother?"

"Almost. Especially when she heard him say, 'I had almost given up on you'."

"Aww . . ." was the collective response.

"I wish I had a good story like that to tell," Katrina lamented.

"Me, too," Angelica agreed. "Nothing really that romantic happened to my parents."

Ken stood up and started collecting the plates. "On that note, let me show you all the rooms, and you can make your decisions on which to take."

"I want the largest room, naturally," Natalia said.

Ken shrugged, assuming he wouldn't be showing them any rooms after all. "Naturally," Ken mimicked. "Then you get one of the two downstairs."

"I want an end unit," Alisa requested.

"Above or below ground?"

"Above."

"Then you have the one toward the back there, on the left," he said, pointing down the hall. "It's the room right across from mine."

"I'll take the one below ground. I like to sleep well," Angelica said.

"You have the other room downstairs then. You'll be neighbors with Natalia."

"I'll take whatever's left," Cassandra said.

"Is a wood floor okay with you?"

"That'll be fine."

"You'll have the one up here, right across from the bathroom. It's right before Alisa's, right down the hall."

"Wait! Then where do I go?" Katrina asked.

"You're the smallest, so why don't you choose somewhere?"

"Um . . . how about out here?"

"Here? The living room?"

"I don't have much, so if you give me the top of a cabinet, I'll be fine."

"How about up there on that display cabinet?"

"That'll be good. I like high places. It makes me feel taller."

Ken chuckled. No doubt.

"I think there may be a small bed in my sister's old doll collection, so I'll check in a little while. But it can get dusty up there. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Sure! I can clean up when I need to."

Ken nodded. "Okay. I'll clean it off after I'm done with these dishes. Then you can set up."

Ken showed them to their respective rooms, and where the bathrooms were. He explained the dining schedule, along with the laundry days. He then left them alone for a while to unpack and get situated.

Amelta started collecting her things.

"Leaving already?" Ken asked as he started pulling some figurines down from the cabinet.

"Yes. I should get started on filing the paperwork. I should have done it almost immediately after getting them, but it seemed like it was going to be fun around here for a couple of hours."

"I hope I kept you entertained."

Amelta giggled, and picked up her things. "Don't worry about showing me out. Mister Goldwrite, I leave these girls in your hands. If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

"See you the next time I see you," Ken said.

She left down the stairs. When Ken finished cleaning off the top of the cabinet, Katrina started setting up her little area.

While all of his tenants were busy, he went into the kitchen and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. After he started it up, he stepped back and leaned against the counter.

"This just might work."

## Chapter Three

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of a Library!

Somewhere else, across time and space no less, a different kind of meeting was going to take place. However, it wasn't going to be as nice. When people think of the word 'meeting,' they probably think of something between friends, acquaintances, or business associates, and most certainly not something hostile or dangerous, and those same individuals wouldn't call it 'nice' to meet an enemy.

Regardless, it was about to happen.

There was a man of medium-build in a deserted landscape, sitting against a large rock about four feet tall. The sun was hanging halfway in the sky. It was sunset, or perhaps even sunrise, but as the sun never moved from that position, no one could ever tell. It covered the area in a warm, orange-red glow, and it illuminated his silver hair. It wasn't the kind of silver that someone would say when someone had aged; it really was colored silver, as if his hair was made of that valuable metal. He wasn't young, but no one he had met thought he was old.

He was dressed casually in a large white T-shirt to move in, blue jeans, and dark blue sneakers. There was a grey metal staff, four feet long, propped up next to him. The top was intricately designed, and was larger than the other end, curving back, up and over to the front, almost like a hook. In the center of the open area of this 'hook' was a large purple gemstone. Where this hook started along the shaft were three recessed bands, colored a light blue to contrast the grey of the metal.

He was looking through a small, leather-bound journal. It showed its age with many rough spots where the leather had worn down. The tops of the pages were dirty where it had been flipped through many, many times. There were many yellow stick-notes peeking out from the top, bottom and side.

All of the sudden, he looked up into the air, noticing something. He realized there was a change in the space-time field around the area. Not a natural change, but a forced one. Someone was meddling with space-time, and would be coming soon.

Silver, as he was called, glanced down at the staff and sighed.

"Looks like they'll be here any moment."

He closed the journal, and pushed it down into mid-air, where it vanished as if putting it into an invisible pocket.

He stood up, pulling the staff up along with him in his right hand.

A green whirlpool about six-feet tall appeared a hundred feet in front of him, and then two more, to the left and the right of the first one.

From the middle whirlpool, a muscular man in technological armor stepped through. He had rough features, his face bearing a few scars, and his hair was cut very short, like a military haircut. From the left, a woman in light armor appeared, with brown hair down to her shoulders. And finally, from the right, a thin, but obviously fit man walked out. He was unarmored, and his dark brown hair came to spikes in the front.

Silver quickly flicked his staff. The three 'portals' froze, and then shattered like glass.

"Impressive, as usual," the muscular man said.

"Why thank you. Now, could you go away? I've got other things to take care of."

"We can't do that," the thin man said. "We need you back," he said with a smirk.

Silver shook his head. "How many times am I going to have to beat my answer into all of you?" He looked at the unarmored man. "By my count, this is the sixth time, right Schove? On a related note, how's the arm?"

The smirk of the thin man, Schove, melted into irritation.

"Anyway, these impromptu gatherings are oh so fun, but I'm really busy. You keep running under the orders of that old man, so I can't help you. At all. End of story."

"Then we'll take the staff," the woman said.

"No. Go build your own. All of you can barter for the materials, spend a year testing your creation, and then another ten fine-tuning it."

"We don't have that kind of time. Plus, the staff tends to work only for a true time manipulator like yourself, and a Time Coordinator at that," the muscular man announced.

"Streyes, have you even considered doing the work for yourself for a change?"

Streyes, the muscular man, smiled. "Once again, we don't have that kind of time."

"You could have started a long time ago, but it looks like the quick and easy route has replaced your sense of responsibility," Silver said. He brandished the staff forward. "So, is this going to be round six?"

"It won't go like last time," Schove growled.

Silver yawned. "Yeah, yeah. You say that every time."

Irritated beyond all he could stand, Schove dashed with superhuman speed toward Silver, his legs not even touching the ground. A large, metal gauntlet formed over his right arm, sporting large blades over each finger. As Schove closed in for the kill, he slashed with his weapon.

Silver swatted the attack away with his staff. Schove dashed to the side after the parry. The woman followed up in a coordinated attack, dashing forward.

Silver pointed the staff at her. She immediately stopped, and was flung backward, skidding and rolling across the ground.

Schove tried to attack him from behind, but Silver moved even faster than him, landing on another large rock ten feet away.

Silver sighed. "I'm not breaking a sweat here. And the predictable attacks are getting boring. Eventually I'm just going to open to gate to a dimension of pure anti-matter on all of you and be done with it."

The woman, back on her feet next to Streyes, stopped in surprise. Streyes was also visibly concerned.

"Sona, would he be able to do that?"

She fumbled for a reply, still staring at Silver. "Th-There's no way he should be able to do that. But . . ."

Silver didn't move, nor blink at the statement.

Schove continued the attack from the front. Silver parried three strikes with his staff, and then swung, catching Schove in the stomach. He was hurtled toward Streyes and Sona.

"I assure you, Sona, I am more than capable of doing so."

"You're bluffing," Streyes laughed. "Otherwise you would have done it already."

Silver laughed in response. "If I would have done it, you would never learn your lesson."

His staff lit up in several different colors, and wisps of energy protruded from his back, taking on shapes similar to the bones in the wings of a bird. The bulb of the staff glowed with a purple light, the light taking the shape of a mace.

Schove struggled to get up. "Why won't you help us!?"

Silver shook his head. "I've offered my help several times. You keep turning it down because it's not enough for you, or your boss. He wants access to the Akashic Library, and thus you three do as well, but it will only lead to your doom."

"Like hell!" Schove yelled at him. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your life ticking down to nothing faster than anyone else!? And you say you don't have any time left!? We'll cease to exist!"

"I'll tell you all again: I can save you. But it's not going to involve the Library."

"The Library is the only way," Streyes said.

"That's what your boss has told you, and you only listen to him, don't you?"

"He's the only one who would help us when no one else would. He gathered together people who had the same problem in order to find the answer. The only conclusion was the Library."

"And he's wrong. Well, not entirely wrong."

"Then you know that's the only way."

"Like I keep telling you, there's no need for the Library if you want helped. But you're going to say something nutty in response, so I'll save my breath." Silver's face turned serious. "We can start when you're ready to get mauled again, so I can get going," he shouted. He brandished his staff-turned-mace to punctuate his statement.

Schove readied himself, his gauntlet glowing red. Sona's hands flashed green for a moment, and a kukri – a bladed weapon with a slight curve to its edge – appeared in each hand. Streyes reached into the air in front of him, his hand disappearing into a green portal, and pulled out a dual-bladed axe.

Silver adjusted his stance.

The area around him erupted into a cloud of dust and dirt, creating a smokescreen for his three opponents.

It wasn't enough, as the cloud quickly dissipated with a wave of Silver's mace.

He quickly brought the mace back in the opposite way, right at Sona, who had appeared in front of him. He blocked her two attacks, and countered with strikes of his own. His plan of knocking her off balance worked. After light strikes, Silver swung his mace to the left. She parried with her kukris, but was smashed across the shoulder – Silver had spun around and hit her unguarded right.

"You're too predictable," Silver addressed Schove, who was attempting to attack from behind and overhead.

One of Silver's 'wings' twitched, opening up like a four-fingered hand. It snatched Schove right out of the air, and slammed him into the ground.

Bright light approached Silver from the front, and he realized a beam of energy – a large beam – was headed for him. Silver stuck out his left hand and the beam dissipated, impacting with a large barrier of blue energy.

Streyes swallowed in concern. After all, Silver had negated his attack with a carefree movement of his arm. He thought they might be in over their heads again, but reminded himself that they had been further enhanced since their last encounter with Silver. He realized they were reaching their limit of alteration, but if they got access to the Library, it would all be fixed, and everyone that was flawed as he was could return to a normal life.

Sona tried to attack him from the side, but was batted away again by the mace – and Silver hadn't even looked in her direction.

Silver looked down at Schove, then over at Sona, then back to Streyes. He shook his head, and then looked down at the ground. "You three certainly have been enhanced since the last time we met, but these False Overlaps are going to send you all to the point of no return."

Streyes burst forward and swept his axe toward Silver. His target parried and jumped back. Streyes wouldn't let up, and continued with progressively stronger blows. Silver easily blocked them all, batted Streyes' weapon upward, and shoved his mace into Streyes's chest.

The gravity shot didn't do much to hurt him, but it did send Streyes flying toward the ground. At the last moment, he recovered, flipping himself over. He landed on his feet, but the momentum sent him sliding backward, his boots leaving two trails in the dirt. Schove and Sona were quick to rush to his side.

"Streyes, what do we do?" Schove asked.

That's when they started to feel the ripples in space-time. Someone was amassing a large amount of space-time into the current timeline.

Then he saw Silver. He was glowing – or rather, the air around him was – energy coalescing like a whirlwind. His hair was sticking up and out, waving based on the energy rather than the air; the strands oscillated in a rainbow. He was pulling an immense amount of power from neighboring timelines, and all three of Silver's enemies knew it.

"What kind of Time Coordinator is he!?" Sona swallowed hard, dumbfounded. "There should be no way he could focus this much energy here!"

They had never seen Silver do anything of this caliber.

Silver threw his left hand up, spreading open his palm, and said two words:

"Fallen Core."

A massive, jet black orb, the size of a boulder appeared above him. Space-time swirled into it, creating almost what seemed like serrated blades spinning around with it.

Silver threw his left hand forward and down, like he was bringing a hammer down. The orb quickly descended between them.

There was an eruption. Air swirled like a hurricane, bits and pieces of rock, sand and dirt whipped past Streyes, Sona and Schove. They shielded their eyes and held themselves closer to the ground to avoid being blown away by the pressure.

When the dust cleared, there was a crater, five feet deep, between Silver and his three opponents.

"Go home," he said, then added, "My offer still stands. I'll help you whenever you want. But not through the Library."

Streyes gritted his teeth, not wanting to give up, but he swallowed his pride. Silver was just too much for them. They simply couldn't compare with his level of ability. Streyes believed there was a way. They just didn't know of it yet.

"We're leaving," he said flatly.

Sona and Schove didn't voice any opposition. Three portals opened and they filed out.

Once they were gone, Silver went back to his original rock, waving his staff toward the crater he had created, and it started to fill itself back in. He sat against the rock again and sighed. "I really wish the three of you weren't so thick headed."

He pulled an old, brass pocket watch out of his left pocket and looked at it. "I guess I should go see him soon. Might as well eat first."

* * *

Ken went to bed later than usual. He had new guests, and made sure that they all had enough pillows, blankets, and an oscillating fan if they needed it. It was still a little warm out, and running the central air all the time raised the electric bill.

His bed time was usually ten o'clock, but it was eleven before he was even in bed. Add the half-hour to actually get to sleep, and he'd definitely be groggy tomorrow morning.

At twelve thirty, he was still awake. He tossed and turned, and finally settled on staring at the ceiling. Time to count sheep.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep, five sheep, six aliens, seven aliens, eight—

Aliens?

Great. Aliens on the brain.

He took stock of the visitors – which he hoped weren't the human-disguise-wearing, human-eating-lizard kind – and their personalities.

It was amazing how insignificant Earth seemed now. When the aliens first arrived, of course everyone had the realization of 'Hey! We're not alone in the universe!' But to actually see, hear and touch the realization for oneself, that's when the whole mind clicks, and the magnitude of who and what is out there becomes staggering. There were millions of planets. Some were inhabited with their own people, cultures, history, families and problems.

Ken's head started to hurt. He asked himself why he didn't just say they were not so different than any person from Earth?

There was the woman from the matriarchal planet. Some societies in the past on Earth had that kind of lineage, so there was no big deal. But no one else he knew of carried bladed weapons in public, sheathed or not. Ken wondered if she slept with it in her bed. Then again, it wasn't his concern. She seemed 'down to earth,' which was odd, considering she was from a completely different galaxy.

On another side of the table was the rich girl. Ken already knew encounters with her were going to turn into conflicts of European proportions. She probably didn't know much about responsibility, had everything handed to her, and didn't have to work hard or take orders from anyone. She reminded him of his sister, and he shivered at the thought of two people like that on the same planet. He did feel a little sorry that she lost her mother, but her attitude quickly destroyed most of the sympathy he had for her.

Then the quiet one. One has to watch out for those kinds of people. She could pop at any time, going on a destructive rampage.

Or maybe not. It's kind of hard to form an opinion of someone who rarely talks, and makes, as a certain cartoon rooster would say, 'less noise than a caterpillar jogging across moss in tennis shoes – sneakers that is.' She didn't seem dangerous, so Ken decided to leave it at that until she went berserk.

The angel-like woman was also puzzling. Apparently she liked cute things, and took a liking to some of the other guests. Somehow, 'nurse' and 'angel' went good together when she came to mind – though she was, by no means, an actual angel in the sense of one from the Good Book. Still, she'd be popular wherever she went, but the majority of people she would run into wouldn't be looking her in the eyes.

Boing.

Lastly, the most unique one of all: the doll-like time faerie, or whatever she was. It was like having a toy walk around and talk. Bubbly attitude and conscious about her size. She went on about the 'space-time' thing, which was far beyond Ken's ability to grasp.

He assumed aliens would have been a little more mellow, but he now wondered if all aliens were screwballs like them.

* * *

Nature called.

Ken got up out of bed, and glanced over to his clock.

3:22 AM.

He went to the bathroom that was attached to the master bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him since he now had tenants, and he didn't know when they might make a surprise entrance.

He made his 'bladder gladder,' washed his hands, and grabbed the door knob. He felt a jolt of electricity, and pulled his hand back in surprise.

"What the . . . ?"

It didn't hurt, but did wake him up. He slowly tested the knob with his finger, but there was no reaction. He shrugged, thinking it was just static electricity or just his imagination, grabbed the knob, turned it, and walked out.

He was not in his bedroom anymore.

It was a large, circular room, with windows showing a sunny day, and plants could be seen touching the bottoms of the windows on the outside. There was a red carpet that started in the middle of the room, and disappeared under a set of double doors about twenty feet in front of him.

Looking around, it seemed like a waiting area. He was unfamiliar with the place, but oddly, wasn't scared or panicked. Concerned he was, but he didn't think or feel he was in any danger. He did feel a mental tug towards the door.

He walked up and reached for the handle of one door, and pulled it open slightly, to see what was on the other side.

"Hello?" he said, softly.

The only thing on the other side was a set of stairs going up. It seemed brighter there than the room he was in, like it led outdoors. He glanced back into the room, and seeing no other exit, went through and closed the door behind him.

Above – far above – was a blue sky. Soft, white clouds went by, as if pushed by a breeze Ken couldn't feel.

He walked up the stairs, looking left and right and it looked like he was seeing the backs of . . .

. . . bookcases?

He continued to the top, which ended in a dais. On the dais was a desk, with a middle-aged-looking man behind it, dressed in some sort of white robes, with long, equally white hair. There was some paperwork and a few books in front of him on the desk, an old computer to his left, and a large, open book to his right, sitting on a stand, and open towards Ken.

The man was reading a book, and glanced up when he heard Ken.

"Why, hello there!" he greeted Ken.

"Uh . . . hello."

"Kenaeth Goldwrite, correct?"

Ken stepped back.

"Oh, don't worry about me knowing your name. I know the names of lots of people."

Ken looked left and right.

"Oh, the name's Peter, by the way. Could you sign in, please?"

"Sign in?"

Peter pointed to the large book. There was a ballpoint pen resting in its binding.

A couple of gears in Ken's head started moving, trying to figure out where he was. A set of big doors he came through. Blue skies. A pleasant atmosphere. A guy in white named Peter . . .

Ken's jaw dropped open.

Oh, no.

He wasn't as religious as he could—or should—be, but anyone with even a small religious bone in their body would know exactly where they were.

Ken became concerned. Really concerned. It must have shown on his face, because Peter prodded him about it.

"Something wrong, Mister Goldwrite?"

"Am . . . am I . . . dead?"

Peter put his book down. "Dead? Why would you think that?"

"You said your name was Peter, right?"

"Yes."

"The Peter?"

"There's only one Peter here, so that's me."

"Saint Peter?"

"Saint . . . ?" He thought a moment, and then started to laugh. "No, no. By no means. I'm not Saint Peter. He and I have lunch often, and I assure you we are nothing alike."

"So, I'm not dead?"

"I don't think you are."

Ken breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't dead.

"Then, am I dreaming?"

"No, sir. You are where you are right now."

"But where am I? This looks like a library, but not really like one."

"You are correct; it's a library. Tell me, are you familiar with the concept of 'Akasha'?"

"No. Is it a girl?"

Peter chuckled. "It does sound like a girl's name, but it's not a girl. It has many other names, but I tend to like the sound of 'Akasha.' It refers to the collected knowledge of the universe."

"And it's a library?"

"Not in the strictest sense. This is a repository of all the knowledge that has existed and ever will exist. That's what is contained here. That's why this place is called the 'Akashic Library'."

"What?"

"Just like I said. Any subject that you could think of, the knowledge, answers and truth are here."

"And it's a library?"

"Truthfully, what you're witnessing is only a representation of what you're experiencing. The human mind is incapable of truly comprehending what this place actually looks like. So, it turns what it is experiencing into a form in which it can understand."

"A library?" Ken asked again.

"Think about it. This is a repository of knowledge. You know, unconsciously, that such a place would be a library. Therefore, it is as you see it."

"I take it you're not human."

Peter smiled. "How about we get you a library card?"

"A library card? For what?"

"To check out books, of course."

"Books?"

"Yes."

"You mean the collective knowledge, etcetera, I can actually read?"

"There are some topics that you won't be able to read, especially ones that would completely change yourself, or would cause you to make a drastic change in your perceived destiny."

"That's way over my head."

"Say, Nathan?" Peter called out.

In an instant, a large, bronze-colored metallic humanoid appeared to Ken's left. Startled, Ken stumbled to the right and fell down. The creature was about seven feet tall, and looked almost like a robot from an old black and white movie. Its upper body and limbs were oversized, held up by legs almost as big.

"My apologies if I startled you, Mister Goldwrite," the creature said in a surprisingly pleasant, though metallic, voice. He offered his hand to help Ken up.

Giving up trying to fully understand what was going on for the moment, Ken took it and the creature gently pulled him up.

Was the creature Nathan?

"Do you have the camera with you?" Peter asked.

"Of course."

A small panel folded down on Nathan's chest, and he pulled out a small camera.

"What's the camera for?" Ken wondered.

"To take your picture. We need it for your card. Could you look directly at the camera?"

Ken looked forward, and it was a scene to laugh at: Nathan, in his very large hands, was daintily holding the camera, pointing it at Ken.

Ken fixed his hair, but knew if it was like any other identification card, he would look like a criminal anyway. That's when he noticed he was in his casual clothes and not his bed clothes. He normally slept in his underwear and a t-shirt, but he was dressed in a t-shirt, his jeans and sneakers. He shrugged, since he knew no one would give him a straight answer about it even if he asked.

"Say cheese," Nathan asked.

"Cheeeeeeeeeese."

The flash went off, and a moment later, a small picture popped out of the side of the camera.

Peter was rummaging through his desk drawers, and suddenly exclaimed "Aha!" He pulled out a stack of cards with a rubber band around them, and another stack of clear plastic sleeves. Nathan handed him the picture, and put the camera back into his chest.

"I always misplace these."

Ken rubbed his eyes. For a repository of knowledge, they sure weren't as organized as they could be. Well, after all, it was a dream. Just a weird dream. Ken had met aliens today. Maybe something in his subconscious had run amok. Mystical libraries? Metal giants holding small cameras?

Peter pasted the picture to a card, and looked up at Nathan. "Did you get the laminator fixed?"

"I did just a few minutes ago. I'm sorry it took so long; Gabriel and I were chatting about some Three Stooges DVDs. He got some new ones."

The panel on Nathan's chest opened again, this time a small laminator was in it. He pulled it out, and handed it to Peter.

"Really? Is he going to let us borrow them?" Peter put the unit on the table, and plugged it into an outlet on the floor.

"When he's done."

Ken shook his head. Okay, it was a really weird dream. He was ready to wake up when he heard that the mystical librarian and his metal friend were Three Stooges fans. Not that he didn't like the trio, but it's just not something he thought he would run into there.

Once the laminator warmed up, Peter put Ken's card through it, and then handed it to Ken.

Ken was immediately curious. It looked like a normal library card. It had his picture, name, address, and something that read 'ACCESS TYPE: All Non-Restricted' along the bottom. It even had a barcode and holographic image to prevent counterfeiting.

"I don't think I told you my address."

"Well, we were expecting you."

"Expecting me? I don't get it. Do I know you?"

Peter shook his head.

Nathan took over. "Mister Goldwrite, you're in a very special place."

"I kind of gathered that."

"But you think you're still dreaming."

Ken scratched the top of his head. "Look at it from my point of view. I'm in a weird library, you two know my name, and I was just handed a library card. Why wouldn't I still think this is a dream?"

"I won't argue that point. But you're not the first to have that very same reaction. Peter and I have seen many people come here over a few millennia, and almost all of them have the same reaction."

"Millennia," Ken echoed. "This library has been around that long?"

Peter tilted his head left and right, signaling that Ken was sort of right. "It might be hard to explain, but this library exists at only one point in time. You see, when all of the knowledge of the universe exists at once, it can't have an age."

"I don't follow."

"If it contains this kind of information, it can only exist at a special place in time. Perhaps I should say it's at the end of time, or maybe it doesn't even exist in time at all. How about that?"

Ken could only give him a blank stare. He was in way over his head.

Peter nodded at Ken's look, knowing what he was thinking. "You may not understand it now, but eventually you will."

Ken quickly shook his head to get rid of the confusion. "Let's change topics. Is anyone allowed here?"

"Anyone is allowed here, but not everyone should come here. Most can't get here on their own. And then there are people like yourself."

"Why's that?"

"It has to do with your genes and destiny. Some people who have a predisposition to manipulating space-time, or have a sufficiently life-changing experience can arrive on their own."

"Maybe it's the latter."

"Oh. Your tenants?"

Ken put his hands up defensively. "Would you stop doing that? It freaks me out that you know this much."

"My apologies," Peter smiled.

"Do other people come here? I mean, bring others along?"

"Sometimes. However, Mister Goldwrite, I must ask that you use discretion. Not everyone needs to come here. You can bring those you choose, but please use your best judgment."

"Fair enough."

"Are you going to check any books out?"

Ken looked around at the sea of the bookcases. "I wouldn't know what to start with!"

"Well, how about your tenants? I doubt you'll be able to pull down their individual books, but ones about their home planets might be useful in the long run."

"Okay. So, how do I get them?"

"Follow me."

They walked to the left side of the dais, where there was a long platform about thirty feet long and ten feet wide. They stepped onto it and both faced one direction.

"Okay. Now what?"

"Just picture in your head what you want to find out more about."

Ken thought about who he encountered first. That would have been Cassandra. What planet did she say she was from? Talsonia? Talsenia?

Instantly, bookcases rose to the side of the platform and started to fly by at incredible speeds, flipping, turning, circling, and then stopped. The bookcase was as long as the platform.

"Whoa," Ken breathed.

Peter chuckled and walked back to his desk.

Ken walked along the bookcase in front of him. There were multiple copies of several books about Talsenia.

TALSENIA: TOPOLGY, VOLUME I through IV.

TALSENIA: CULTURE AND ATTITUDE.

TALSENIA: A PRIMER.

TALSENIA: THE TALSENIAN TONGUE IN A HUNDRED EASY STEPS.

TALSENIA: FICTION, POETRY AND ROMANCE, VOLUME I through X.

TALSENIA: MILITARY HISTORY, VOLUME I through XXX.

Ken looked closer. Volume thirty!? They must have liked their military history.

The 'Primer' volume seemed as good a book as any, and he pulled it from the shelf. He brought it back to the desk, where he handed the book and his card to Peter.

Peter used a barcode scanner attached to the computer to scan his card and the book. He returned both to Ken. "It's due back when you finish it."

"That's convenient."

"Oh, and by the way, your card and book will disappear when you get back home. Just 'think' about the book and concentrate. It'll appear right in your hand."

"How do I get home?"

"Nathan will escort you out. Later, you'll be able to come and go under your own power."

"This way, Mister Goldwrite," Nathan said, gesturing to the stairs.

Nathan walked down the stairs, followed by Ken. Nathan was light on his feet, despite his size. He opened the double doors at the base of the stairs, and they both went through.

At the center of the waiting area, Nathan held out his arm, palm forward. Something like a long key protruded from his palm, and Nathan pushed forward ever so slightly. Part of the key disappeared into mid-air, and Nathan's entire arm rotated clockwise.

Ken heard a 'click' in his head.

Nathan pulled his hand back and a swirling green whirlpool appeared. "Through here," Nathan offered.

"Thank you."

"Be seeing you, Mister Goldwrite."

And Ken stepped through.

* * *

Ken heard the sound of something cutting through air, steps on grass and regular movement. The sounds pulled him from his sleeping state, and he looked over at his clock.

6:00 AM.

"For heaven's sake," he muttered. "No one better be gardening this early."

Ken normally woke up at seven o'clock, so he got less than his usual dose of rest for the night. He tried to get back to sleep, but curiosity got the better of him.

Walking into the living room after having dressed, he noticed everyone was still asleep. He made extra care to not make noise for Katrina, who was sleeping quite soundly on the top of the cabinet in the living room.

Going out to the driveway, he saw Cassandra in the back yard, swinging her sword around in obvious exercises. It was almost like an elegant dance. Ken watched while standing next to his car. It was a few moments before she realized he was there.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied. "Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. You just don't see this much around here."

"Don't worry about that," she said, and added, "Do you always wake up at this time?"

"Not really. I usually get up at seven o'clock. Do you always do this kind of exercising?"

"No. I would normally spar with my mother every other day. This is nothing compared to what I go through with her."

"Is she cruel?"

"No. I think 'intense' would be the term."

Ken had an idea. An insane idea, but an idea nonetheless. "Just a moment."

He went back into the house and looked in the corner behind the door. His umbrella and a steel pipe were there. He kept the pipe around just in case someone tried to break in. He grabbed it, and went back outside to where Cassandra was waiting.

"Do you practice?" she asked, looking at the pipe.

"Not at all! But I've seen plenty of movies."

Ken took a position ten feet away from her.

Mentally, she laughed. He didn't have his feet apart far enough, his stance was wrong, and he was even holding his weapon wrong. Regardless of what techniques this planet had, his was nothing that could be considered effective. It probably didn't even occur to him that she had a very sharp piece of metal, while he had a very blunt piece of metal.

Ken nodded. "Okay, let's star—"

Clang!

The pipe flipped out of his hands, clattered against one of the clothesline poles farther out in the yard, then fell to the ground. Ken realized that all she had done was take a large step forward, and smacked the tip of his pipe with her saber.

He stood there, looking at where the pipe landed. "Setting aside the complete lack of skill on my part, that was embarrassing."

Cassandra chortled. "That it was."

"It's even more embarrassing when you agree."

"I'm sorry," she lied, trying to stifle a bigger laugh.

Ken fetched the pipe and started walking back to the house.

"You're done already?" she asked.

"Yep. Pride can only take so much in a day. Besides, I have breakfast to make."

Cassandra followed him. "What are we having?"

"A traditional American breakfast. One I haven't had in a long time."

"A long time?" she echoed.

"Yep. Without much money, I've lived frugally."

"You could always skip breakfast," she suggested.

"Nope. If you skip breakfast, you'll get fat."

"I usually skip it. I don't get fat."

"Alien physiology, maybe?"

* * *

It was the smell of breakfast that woke the tenants. It had been a while since Ken had a full-fledged breakfast. Eggs, toast, sausage, bacon and pancakes.

Pancakes, in particular, were significant – the pancakes themselves weren't special – because Ken had learned to make them from an animated short he had seen when he was younger. It involved a duck, listening to how to make pancakes from a program on the radio. The duck's recipe turned into a disaster, leading to the duck making a trip to the radio station to beat the announcer senseless. The recipe worked when done correctly, and led to nice homemade pancakes.

The first one up was Katrina. She fluttered out into the kitchen, landed on Ken's head, and laid down, looking over his brow.

"What are those?"

"Pancakes."

"Pan . . . cakes? As in a cake in a pan?"

"I guess you could call it that." Ken flipped the one in the pan. The visible side was a nice, golden brown.

"They're too big. I can't eat one like that."

"I'll make some small ones. Come to think of it, I'm at a loss to find utensils for someone of your . . . um . . . petite stature."

"I didn't think to bring any with me," she moaned.

"We'll find a way. Maybe a doll shop has some. I don't know if there's one in the area, so I'll take a look in the phone book after lunch."

"A doll shop?"

"Yeah. They sell smaller items for dolls. Maybe we can get something in your size there."

Katrina hovered back into the living room. Ken glanced up and saw Cassandra watching him.

"Smells good," she said.

"Of course it does! Have a seat at the table and I'll bring out a plate. What will you be having?"

"A little of everything."

"A little of everything, coming up!"

Cassandra sat at the table, and Ken brought out her plate with her order.

"Katrina, I have some mini pancakes for you."

She flew back into the dining area and sat on the table. He served her on a saucer. Ken tried to make them smaller, but they still looked like the size of garbage can lids next to her. She picked up the top one from the stack of two and started eating.

The remaining tenants showed themselves, one by one, and had their own breakfasts. Ken found out that pancakes were a big hit with alien females. That aside, he was surprised at the amount of food they took in. He wondered where they put it all. He knew Cassandra burned calories training, and Katrina was probably like a hummingbird, but it remained to be seen what the rest of them did the calories. He had an idea where all of Angelica's nutrients went, but there was no way to be certain.

Boing.

Maybe it really was alien physiology.

"What are we going to do today?" Natalia asked in a rather expectant tone.

"Good question. I guess I'm the chauffer, so I need to know where you all are going to be working or going to college. Speaking of which, I need to make a few phone calls. We'll do it all after lunch, so you're more than welcome to watch television or get yourselves more acquainted to the house. Rearrange the furniture in your rooms if you want."

"I need to do shopping for clothes and additional items," Natalia said.

"Do you have a lot of American money?"

"My father's company set up a bank account for me here. Transfer of funds. Gold seems to be valuable here, too."

"I don't think you have just a few items on your mind, so we'll put that on the schedule for tomorrow."

Natalia sighed.

Ken rolled his eyes. "I have a little gardening to do, so just sit tight for a while."

* * *

Ken took Cassandra, Alisa and Angelica to their bases of operation for work and study, with Katrina along for the ride. Cassandra and Alisa were taken to the college and Angelica to the hospital. Workers had been expecting them to show their faces at one point, even for just a quick greeting.

Angelica attracted attention – more so because of her wings than her looks – but she appeared to ignore it. Ken felt that even though she seemed unconcerned, she was becoming self-conscious about the stares. It was good that they were only there briefly.

Alisa, on the other hand, was completely in her element at the college, and Ken, Cassandra and Angelica had to physically drag her away from the equipment in the electronics lab.

Cassandra knew only one Earth language and briefly visited the staff in the linguistics department . . . who all happened to be out for a late lunch.

"So much for that," she said, leaving her contact information, and they left the campus.

"One last thing to do. It's on the way home," Ken said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

They drove for a while and pulled into a residential area. Ken stopped in the driveway of a medium-sized, two story house with a sign in the front yard that read 'Matilda's Doll World.'

Cassandra glanced from the sign to Ken. "A doll store? Do you have a hobby we should be aware of?"

"No, you screwball! It's for Katrina!"

"Yeah!" Katrina followed up.

After they all got out of the car, Ken opened the side door of the store near the sign. Bells attached to the door chimed, and inside was a medium-sized room. It was lined from floor to ceiling with shelves, and had lots and lots of dolls, doll accessories, and even more dolls. A glass counter was along the right wall with a cash register on it.

A woman who had been dusting shelves turned around to see her prospective customers.

"Oh my, this is unexpected."

The woman was about five and a half feet tall, with brown hair in a ponytail that was pulled over her shoulder. She wore glasses, and was clothed in a dress with an apron over the front.

Ken nodded to her. "Well, my associates here are some of the visitors you may have heard about on the news."

"Why, yes. So, are you looking for items for your doll?"

"My doll?"

"The one on your head," she said, pointing to the top of his head.

"I'm not a doll," Katrina moaned.

The woman took an immediate interest. "How adorable!"

"Isn't she!?" Angelica agreed.

Ken mentally dubbed the woman 'Angelica #2.'

"If you haven't taken a guess yet, I'm Matilda, the owner. What can I do for you?"

Ken looked around. "The truth is we're looking for utensils for my friend. She can't eat well without some smaller items."

Matilda nodded. "I see. I think I have just what you're looking for."

She led them over to a shelf where there was a doll-sized dining set – for four – neatly packaged in a velvet box with a clear, plastic cover.

Matilda picked it up and handed it to Ken. "This is a specialized, hand-crafted set, made locally. The dishes and tea cups are made of real porcelain, the utensils are real metal, and the glasses are, frankly, real glass."

Ken took a look through the plastic. The pieces were very well made; they looked like they were the real thing, only reduced in size. Ken moved his thumb and saw the price tag.

His eyes almost leapt out of his head. "I know you said the items in here were real, but is this price real?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. Truthfully, I used to sell out of them frequently. I actually reduced the price by fifteen percent, since business has been slow in the shop lately."

Ken's thoughts yelled out at him. Business was slow, and it was still THAT much!? Holy heaven! It was a quarter of Ken's property taxes for a whole year!

Ken glanced over to Katrina, who was looking at some dolls that were about her size, and she seemed completely unnerved by inanimate objects the same size as her, looking as though they were living.

He sighed. "I'm glad I went to the bank two days ago. Looks like I have to go back today or tomorrow. I'll take it."

Matilda thought for a moment. "Tell you what. You help me out some, and I'll help you out. How's that sound?"

He was skeptical, but willing to hear her out. "I'm listening."

"The doll market has boomed, so there are shops dotted across the city. As you know, the more stores an area has, the greater the competition, and that goes double for specialty shops like mine that also do online orders. Follow me so far?"

Ken, Cassandra, Alisa and Angelica nodded, with Ken adding, "Go ahead."

"To give my sales a real boost, I would love to have your friend be a model for my online catalog."

"A model? That's up to her. I get that would be helping you out, but what will she get for it?"

Ken didn't even know if a side job was even allowed in her contract.

"Free product. I also do special creations, and a real model would give my store the unique edge it deserves!"

Matilda seemed really fired up.

A question popped into Ken's head: alien screwballs or Earthling screwballs, which ones were harder to get away from? Ken didn't have an answer to give himself.

"Hey, Katrina."

"Yeah?" she replied.

"How would you like to be a model?"

"As in plastic?"

"No, as in for clothing. You get some free clothes and other things in your size."

She thought for a moment. "Sure," she said, and hovered over to them.

"Spectacular. Nice to meet you. Katrina, was it?"

"Yes."

"Would you be able to make it this weekend?"

"I don't know." She turned to Ken. "Would I?"

"We'll work something out. I guess this is an advance on what she'll get?"

"Precisely."

"I'd have to request on no iffy stuff, if you know what I mean. I'm looking after her."

"You have my word of honor."

"Well then, we'll be back this weekend."

* * *

At home, the crew was greeted by the sounds of laughter from the living room on the second floor. Ken and the rest hit the top of the landing and saw Natalia watching T.V.

"What are you watching?" Ken asked.

"I don't know. Some show about people running through an obstacle course. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life!"

"You shouldn't spend so much time watching T.V. It'll rot your brain."

She responded with a laugh at the next person on television, tripping on a rock and falling into a large pool of water.

She regained her composure after a moment. "Remember, we have a shopping trip tomorrow. You better not forget," she reminded him.

Ken didn't like her tone, but he said he would. "Yeah, yeah."

He took the bag of items they got from Matilda's store and put it on the table, rummaged through and pulled out the boxes of items. There was a small table along with the silverware and cups. Katrina helped to set them up in the middle of the dining room table, and the spread was just enough for her to be comfortable with.

Now all that was left was to make dinner, but that was about two hours away. "Dinner's not going to be ready for a while. Feel free to lounge around."

"I'm going to get ready for tomorrow," Angelica said.

"Okay."

"You'll have to give me a ride until I'm able to drive. Oh! You're going to have to teach me to drive."

"Me, too," Cassandra added.

Natalia, predictably, said nothing. If Alisa had been there, she might have agreed – or not said anything, or . . .

"We'll start that next week," Ken said.

"Better get my things together, too," Cassandra said as she walked toward her room.

"Are you going to be able to carry that thing to college?" Ken asked, pointing to her sword.

"I received a license before I came. It'll be okay."

"If you say so."

Katrina remained perched on Ken's head. "What are you going to make?"

"Good question. I think I'll make Irish stew and Caesar salad."

"What salad?"

"Caesar salad. And maybe some buttered rolls."

"Sounds complicated," Katrina exclaimed.

"I'll have to check the recipe again, since I'm probably a little rusty on those."

Ken was going through ingredients when the phone rang. He picked it up, and a familiar voice was on the other end.

"How was your first evening?" Amelta asked.

"Stellar."

"You don't seem too enthusiastic."

"That's not it at all. I'm just in the middle of preparing for dinner."

"Oh, then I'll be brief. I've been contacted by a local news station, and they're looking for an interview."

"Today?"

"Oh my, no. This will be a month from now. There are already some news bites about visitors staying in the area. They will, hopefully, be keeping their distance for the time being. No guarantees."

"Well, set a time. If they want to see or talk with everyone, that'd have to be on a Saturday."

"Good! I'll try to get back with you as soon as I can."

"Take your time. It's not as if I'm going anywhere." Ken suddenly remembered Katrina's side job. "Say, I have a question about part time jobs."

"Do you need one?"

"No, no. I have a feeling that taking care of the tenants is going to be a career in and of itself, but that's bedsides the point. Are my tenants allowed to have part time jobs?"

"Didn't you read through the contract?"

Ken picked out a can and put it on the counter. "No. That's why I have you to explain it, right?"

Amelta giggled. "According to the contract, part time jobs are okay, as long as they don't interfere with what your tenants have come to Earth for. If you don't mind me asking, why the sudden interest in them having jobs?"

"It looks like Katrina's going to be a model for a local doll shop. She needs some utensils and clothes, so she's doing it quid pro quo."

"Quid? Is that dangerous?"

"'Quid pro quo' means 'this for that.' She gets her payment in things she can use."

"I don't think that will be a problem at all."

"Whew. That makes things easier."

Ken decided not to tell her that they already agreed to be at Matilda's during the weekend.

"I'll keep in touch, Ken."

"Okay."

Ken hung up the phone.

* * *

There was a scratching sound at the back door which led to the kitchen. Something was clawing on the metal of the screen door.

Alisa heard it when she was in the kitchen getting a drink. She looked at the door, thinking it might have been the wind. The scratching started again.

She walked over to the door and opened it. She looked down and saw a red animal sitting on the other side of the screen door, looking up at her. Alisa tilted her head in confusion, and she could have sworn the creature did likewise to her.

She stepped back and went into the living room where Ken was.

"There's a small creature at the kitchen door."

"Huh?" Ken said, looking up from his newspaper.

"There's a small red creature at the back door. I opened the door, and the creature looked up at me expectantly."

Ken thought for a moment, and then a look of realization came over his face. "Oh, it's her."

"Who?"

* * *

Ken sat down in a chair on the deck, and put down two bowls: one with food, the other with water.

The fox hoisted its front paws up on his left knee after he did. Ken patted its head. After acknowledging the attention, the fox went down to the bowls and started eating.

"A pet of yours?" Alisa asked.

"Not at all."

"What kind of animal is it?"

"It's called a 'fox.' They're usually found just a tiny bit farther north, but it's not uncommon to see them around here, especially with all the farms."

"Is it domesticated?"

She reached out a hand to pet the fox like Ken did, but it growled in warning.

"Interesting," she said.

"I'll say. She just showed up one day about a year ago. I was sitting outside, feeling sorry for myself, when she appeared right next to me. Didn't make a sound or anything. She just sat there with me. Ever since then, she comes around every so often. Probably just to check up on how I'm doing."

The fox finished its meal, and put its paws up on Ken's knee again. Ken patted it on the head.

"See you next time."

The fox scampered down the deck's stairs.

"What's her name? And what's more, how do you know it's female?"

"Since male animals don't really like me, it's got to be a she. But I haven't checked, and don't particularly want to. She doesn't have a name that I know of." Ken picked up the bowls. "Why don't you think of one?"

"Hmmm . . ."

"If you think of one, make sure you ask her."

"Ask her? I don't think, as an animal, she would respond."

"Are you sure?"

"She's an animal."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure about that."

### Irish Stew

Serves Four

1/2 lb. pork, 1/4 cup flour, 2 whole potatoes, 4 cups soup stock,

half a stalk of celery, 1 to 1-1/2 tbs. salad oil to taste,

half a carrot, 1-1/2 tsp. salt, 1 whole round onion, dash of pepper,

3/4 cup milk, 1 tbsp. green peas, 1/4 stick of butter, 1 stalk of parsley

(1) Peel the potatoes, cut them into six-piece chunks, and let sit in water. Cut the carrots and pork into chunks, and slice the onion.

(2) Melt the butter in a soup pan, add flour, and slowly simmer over low heat. Slowly add the soup stock, using a wooden spatula to thoroughly mix it.

(3) Simmer the onion, carrots, potato, pork and celery in the salad oil, and then add (1) to the pan. Add salt and pepper to taste, and once the vegetables have softened, add the milk, and stop just before it boils.

(4) Serve on a soup plate, garnish with peas.

## Chapter Four

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Silver!

Ken went to the grocery store to restock, and picked up some items he had forgotten. Katrina accompanied him, for the experience and to get away from her monitoring duties for a while. He parked in front of the grocery store, they entered, and Ken pulled out his grocery list.

People gave them strange looks. It would have been more odd had people not been aware of the otherworlders in the community. Ken had been told that there were a few more houses like his, and some otherworlders staying with families. Since Ken was single and had no one else in his house, he had the largest group.

Katrina was perched on his head, making quick little movements like a squirrel as she took in the new surroundings.

"First time in a supermarket?" Ken asked.

"No. Just this one!"

A woman and her young son walked past them. Katrina smiled at the boy, and waved.

"Hi!"

The boy looked up at her, and as they went past, he tugged on his mother's shirt. "Mommy, that doll on that man's head talked and waved to me."

"Dolls don't talk and wave on their own. It was your imagination," her mother chided him.

"But . . ." he whined as they turned off at the end of the aisle.

Katrina sulked. Ken smirked.

They went through the aisles, picking up meats, vegetables, cereals, drinks, and cooking ingredients. Katrina was handy in being able to pull some items off the top shelves.

Half way through their trip, Katrina pointed out something.

"Ken, is that someone else staying on this planet?"

"Huh?" Ken said, looking up from reading an ingredients label.

At the end of the aisle of canned goods was a short, young woman in a black maid outfit. She had light brown hair down to her shoulders, and was staring very intently at a can she held in her hands. Ken blinked when he saw her skin color was light pink.

"Dunno. Maybe."

Ken went back to reading a label when he heard a 'thunk,' then heard something rolling down the aisle. It stopped when it hit the wheel of Ken's cart.

The woman rushed up to them and apologized. "I'm sorry!"

Katrina picked up the can, and brought it back up to the maid. "Here you are!"

"Th-Thank you."

She looked nervous.

"Are you staying on Earth, too?" Ken inquired.

"Yes. I arrived two weeks ago."

"We got here a few days ago!" Katrina chimed in while perching on Ken's head.

"We?" the maid inquired with a tilt of her head.

"Yeah," Ken sighed. "She," pointing to Katrina, "is one of the five at my house."

"You have five staying at your house!?"

"Yeah. How many where you are staying?"

"Just one. Me."

"Is it fun there, too?" Katrina asked.

"Fun?" the woman echoed, seeming like she didn't understand the meaning.

Katrina nodded. "Ken is really nice. And there's a lot of good stuff to eat on this planet."

"Seems . . . nice."

Ken couldn't help notice a tinge of sadness in her voice.

He was about to ask her about it, when a man called out from down the aisle to her.

"Sasha, are you done yet? We're leaving."

"Oh, yes. C-Coming!"

She turned and jogged down the aisle.

"What was that all about?" Katrina wondered, moving down to the cart.

"Don't know."

"She seemed sad."

"Yeah, she did."

"I hope I didn't scare her."

He patted her worried little head.

"I don't think there's a chance of that happening."

* * *

Ken pulled his car into the parking lot of the shopping mall.

Natalia was in the passenger's seat. Ken agreed to take her to some place normal. He wasn't exactly the type that hovered in circles of high society, so normal had to do.

"This is it?" she asked, looking up and down the long building, as if it didn't meet her standards.

"Yes. And it's plenty."

"I've seen bigger," she remarked.

Ken couldn't say he had – well, an ego as big as hers, anyway.

And so Ken burned away five hours of his life he would never get back, which was composed of going through nearly every store. Twice.

Near the end of Ken's seemingly endless and pointless journey, they stopped in front of a store they hadn't entered. It was the kind of store that was the bane of every man. A store that most men feel slightly uncomfortable going in to with a woman. A store that a man most certainly wouldn't go in by himself without a really good reason.

"Are you coming in?" Natalia wondered expectantly, from a step inside the store.

He looked at the store front again. "Preferably not."

She tapped her foot a couple of times, then reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into the store.

"No! Stop! I don't want to! Gaaaaah!"

It was too late. He had taken a step in.

Two ladies behind a sales counter were giggling at them. Ken sighed and resigned himself to being completely defeated.

"You know," Natalia said, "they do have men's clothes here."

"Still, I feel . . ." Ken nervously looked around and continued, ". . . really weird here."

"Weird?"

"Kind of like, say, being turned inside out."

She gave him a funny look, and then smiled. "You don't have much experience with women, do you?"

"I have my share of experience, as if it's any of your business, thank you very much. As compared to your experience with men, pray tell?"

She stared at him for a moment then turned around. "Let's pick up some items."

"Don't dodge the question!"

But she'd already vanished into the ocean of lace, ruffles, silk and see-through material.

The ladies behind the counter giggled again.

Ken remained where he was. If he didn't move, he couldn't get in any trouble. That would be good.

. . . How do you even wear something like that? All it looked like is something the size of a plastic snack bag.

Gaaaaah! He looked!

He did a face palm.

One of the ladies walked over to him, with an amused look on her face.

"Can I help you?" she said with a large smirk.

Ken contemplated responding, 'Yeah! GET ME OUT OF HERE!'

"Um, not really. I mean, I don't think you have anything in my size."

Her face faulted.

"It was a joke."

"First time shopping in a store like this with someone?"

"Yeah. I've never to one of these places with someone before."

"So, you're shopped in here by yourself at one point?" she concluded, amused.

"No!"

He realized the longer he stayed in there, the deeper the hole he would be digging. If this continued, the aforementioned hole would be big enough to cover him up to his eyebrows.

"Is the young lady a romantic attachment?"

"No! And I should certainly hope someone like her never becomes my girlfriend."

"So, you're shopping for yourself?"

"No!"

"For someone else?"

"No! I'm just carrying bags."

She was still smiling.

"You really enjoy tormenting the men who come in here, don't you?"

"It's in my job description."

He raised an eyebrow at her. She simply smiled back.

Natalia stepped back into view. "I've got a couple of questions here."

"Certainly," the lady said, walking away.

"This is going to be a long, long day," he muttered.

* * *

"Do you deliver?" Natalia asked the salesman.

"We can, for a small fee."

She wanted to go to an electronics store, which wasn't near the mall. She bought four televisions and four DVD players. Ken could only assume she was trying to bribe the other tenants, since there was no reason to buy four sets.

"Ken, tell him where we live."

Ken gave the salesman the address, and was informed the items would be delivered the next day.

The last stop was at a bedroom store where she purchased some expensive sheets, comforters and blankets.

"What, the ones I bought aren't good enough?" Ken muttered.

"Not for someone of my status and tastes."

"You mean bratty and vain?"

"Hey! Who are you calling bratty!?"

Ken had to load everything into the car. It was hard to see out of the back window on the way home with all of the boxes and bags.

"You didn't have to buy everything today."

"You shouldn't put off until tomorrow what you should do today."

"I think that's supposed to refer to something important."

"Those things are plenty important."

* * *

While Ken and Natalia were out shopping, the other tenants were at home, keeping themselves occupied. Katrina was eating a strawberry while watching TV with Alisa. Cassandra and Angelica were in their rooms, taking a nap.

Suddenly, Katrina stopped eating and looked up and around. It was like she had noticed some sort of odd scent in the air.

Three low-sounding beeps came from a watch-like device on her wrist.

Alisa looked around. "What's that sound?"

It repeated.

Katrina per her strawberry down, and pressed a button on the device.

"What's that?" Alisa asked.

"It detects changes in space-time within a five mile radius." She looked at the some numbers on the device. "Just like I thought. It looks like there's a ripple in space-time very near here."

"Ripple?" Alisa repeated.

"Yeah. Like something's playing around with the space-time field. Let me check with the higher-ups."

She pressed a few buttons on the wrist device, and a small screen appeared in mid air. A moment later, a man's face appeared on the screen.

"Cataloguer Fareblood. What can we do for you?"

"I'm at the junction A16TNK345B11—" Katrina stopped, took a deep breath, and continued, "—11Q5488IHJ73. I was wondering if you could check something out on this area for me."

"What would that be?"

"I just detected a space-time ripple in my vicinity. Could you double-check that for me?"

"One moment."

The man face disappeared, and then came back not long after.

"Cataloguer Fareblood, the ripple has been confirmed. Please see if you can obtain any more information."

"Understood."

Katrina switched off the device, and the screen disappeared.

* * *

Outside of Ken's house, a portal opened in the driveway, and Silver stepped out. The portal quickly closed behind him. He glanced around at the surrounding yards, and behind him, across the street.

Satisfied that no one had seen him, he took a more leisurely look at the house and smiled nostalgically. "Boy. It's been a long time."

He walked toward the side door. It was at that time the door opened, and Alisa and Katrina were ready to exit. The both stopped the stranger.

"Hello!" Katrina said.

"Hello, Katrina. Is Ken here?"

"No. He was kidnapped to do some shopping."

Silver glanced over to Alisa. "Hi, Alisa."

"Hi," she replied, cautiously.

"Um," Katrina said, "how do you know our names?"

"Oh, I know a lot about you two. My name is . . . well, people called me Silver."

"Silver? Because your hair?"

"Yes."

Katrina eyed him oddly, and then shrugged.

"Was that you just a little while ago?" Katrina prodded the man.

"About what?" Silver smiled.

"The space-time ripple. I can sense something around you."

Silver chuckled. "Guess I can't hide anything from a Cataloguer."

"Are you a manipulator, too?"

"Yes. I'm a Coordinator."

"Wow! A real Coordinator!" Katrina exclaimed ecstatically. "Are you from Onemill like me?"

"You could say that."

It was about that time when Ken and Natalia pulled into the driveway, back from their shopping trip. Ken, understandably, looked with suspicion at the unknown man.

He got out of the car and approached Silver.

"Can I help you?"

Silver looked at him, and if nostalgia could be shown on someone's face, it would have been on his. He only did it for a moment, and recomposed himself.

"My name is Silver."

"Silver?"

"He's a Time Coordinator!" Katrina said.

"What's a Time Coordinator?" Natalia asked.

"I'm going to second that," Alisa added.

Silver kept looking at Ken.

"What can I do for you?" Ken asked him.

"It's not what you can do for me. Rather, it's what I can do to repay you."

"I'm not following. Have we met before?"

"To me, yes. Maybe not from your perspective, but if you can believe it, you helped me out in my past."

"The past?"

"Well, that would your future, though."

Ken started humoring him. "So, you're a time traveler?"

"Not specifically, but that's one of the things I can do."

"And you've come to help . . . me."

"That's right."

Ken thought. "Going to tell me some winning lottery numbers?"

"No."

"Show me where there's buried treasure?"

"No."

"Are you going to change my past?"

"No."

"Then pray tell, how are you going to help me? You'll have to forgive me for not believing in this 'my future' story of yours, or coordination, whatever it is. I just don't see how you're going to help me."

Silver nodded, solemnly. His staff appeared in his hand.

"Sorry, Katrina, Alisa, Natalia."

Natalia's eyes went wide. "How do you know—"

She was cut off when Silver tapped the bottom of his staff on the blacktop of the driveway. In a split second, Ken saw everything take on a blue haze.

It was suddenly colder. Ken looked at his tenants, and saw everyone had stopped, except him and Silver.

"Did I catch your attention?"

Ken didn't have a response. His mouth opened to give some sort of comment, but nothing came out. He only swallowed, concerned for his tenants, and what this individual had in store for them.

Silver shook his head. "Oh, don't worry. They're not hurt. I just had to stop time a little."

Ken stepped back. "What . . . are you?"

"Like Katrina said, I'm a Time Coordinator."

Ken took another step back. "What do you want with me!?"

Silver took a step forward toward him and grinned. "I already told you. You helped me, so I'm here to help you."

"I still don't believe you."

"Yes, that's natural. I mean, it really is unbelievable to have someone tell you that they're from the future."

"Right."

"What if I was to prove it to you? I know a lot about all of you here now, and those that will be."

"There will be more staying here!?"

"Kinda, sorta. You'll see when the time comes." Silver took another step forward. "Tell me, Kenaeth Adam Goldwrite, what did you think of Peter and Nathan?"

"What are you talking—"

He stopped. He had heard those two names before. But from where?

Then he remembered the dream he had, of that weird library.

"It wasn't a dream, Ken. It was one-hundred percent real. It will play a role in things to come. I really wish I could tell you more."

"What do you want?"

"My, you're more persistent than I remember. For the third time, I want to help you."

Help, from a time traveler? Taken from Ken's perspective, a strange guy appears out of nowhere, states he's from the future, and wants to help him. Of all people in the world, he wanted to help Ken?

"I don't need any help."

"You will, and soon. I'm here to preempt that need."

"And how are you going to do that?"

Silver grinned again. "Basic training."

"Training? In what?"

"To be a Coordinator like me, and how to manipulate space-time."

Ken looked at Silver like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.

"Ken, that's the only way. It's not a game. It's not a lie. It's not fiction. They will be coming for you and me soon."

"They!? Who are they!?"

"In a word? Antagonists. They'll want both of us. Why? Because of what we can do, and because of one other thing. And that is, we have both been to that library."

"And why is that so important?"

"You and I are special in that we are some of the few people in history who have been there. I'm sure you realize the harm that could be done if someone of less than altruistic motives would get access to it."

"Peter said that only certain people have access to it. How could that happen?"

"Oh, you're able to allow others into the Library. Well, maybe I should say 'show them the way.' You see, just because you have the key to a door, it won't do any good if you can't find the door."

"Is it really that special to be able to get to the Library?"

"Yes. But it's not only that, Ken. You are a person who has a unique signature that makes it easy for you to manipulate space-time."

"You mean, changing time and so on?"

"You can do that, but it's more like manipulating reality."

"Reality?"

"That is the basis of space-time. There is much you can do, but a lot you shouldn't. You'll learn more as we start our training. I wish I could tell you more."

"You said that already."

"Did I? I'm sorry. I'm still concentrating on keeping this 'temporal pause' up." Then he added, "You won't be able to save them if you don't."

"Them? Is something going to happen to people I know?"

Silver pointed toward his tenants.

"Is . . . something going to happen to them?"

"Perhaps. But I only know what happens when you accept, not if you decline."

There was Alisa, simply looking on; Katrina, with a smile; and Natalia, with a look of surprise. Silver had stopped time while Natalia was in mid-question.

Ken was trusted to look after them. He didn't want anything to happen to them. He promised to himself that nothing bad would happen to anyone else he knew ever again.

No one else would have to die again if he could help it.

He said, almost instinctively, "What do I have to do?"

He was surprised at his own question. A time traveler? Space-time? Coordinator? Something was going to happen to his tenants?

There was a man standing in front of him, spouting a bunch of nonsense, and relating it to his tenants. But a small part of him was intrigued, begging to know more. If something was going to happen to his tenants, didn't he have a duty to prevent it, if possible?

Silver nodded once in Ken's direction. "We'll start tomorrow. We still have some time."

The blue faded, and everyone returned to normal.

"—my name!?" Natalia continued.

Apparently time had stopped, since Natalia continued from where she was interrupted.

"I know everyone here. Quite well, in fact," Silver replied, as if the conversation between he and Ken had never occurred.

"Then what's my favorite food?" Katrina asked.

"Strawberries," Silver answered.

"Bingo! And what's my favorite thing to do?"

"Perch on Ken's head."

"Correct! Wow, it's like you're psychic!"

"By the way, Alisa, have you set up the spatial expander to your room yet?"

After a surprised look, she smiled. "Not yet."

"Wait," Ken interrupted. "What is she going to do with her room?"

* * *

"What are we having?" Silver asked.

Ken was pouring coffee into a dispenser on the counter. "I don't know. Probably spaghetti. And I guess I should ask: you're not living here, right?"

"No way am I going to be living here. I'll just go home when I need to."

Cassandra, who had not let go of her sword, was eyeing Silver suspiciously. Angelica just shrugged when she met him, and went about what she was doing.

The real reason Cassandra was so suspicious was something about a birthmark on an interesting part of her body. Even when prodded, Silver was unable to confirm the exact location, as he was under the threat of having his neck ventilated.

Angelica was more than happy to show her birthmark off – much to everyone's embarrassment.

Boing.

* * *

Ken woke up the next day. He showered, put on new clothes, and opened the door. He could see into Alisa's room. She was sitting on the floor, working on some sort of mechanical project.

He stood there, remarking to himself that her room was far more spacious than he remembered. It had to be a hundred feet from the doorway to the window on the opposite side.

A hundred feet?

Ken tore down the stairs, and dashed outside to look at the side of his house in the area of her room.

It seemed completely normal.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Making his way back to her room, he asked two obvious questions.

"What did you do to my house!? Specifically, what did you do to this room!?"

She pointed to a cylindrical object about two feet tall next to the door. It looked somewhat like a futuristic lamp, with a small lampshade. It was humming, and glowing on and off with a sea-green light.

"It's a spatial expander. It emits a low-level gravity field that alters spatial coordinates in closed-off areas such as this room. That's why this room is bigger."

"What happens when the power goes out?"

"That won't be a problem. It's a miniature fusion reactor."

Ken took two steps back into the hallway. "Fusion . . . reactor . . . ? It's nuclear!?"

"It has a standard output of one-point-twenty-one giga-watts. But don't worry. It will last for fifteen to twenty years."

"That's not what I'm concerned about!"

Katrina fluttered down the hallway, her hair disheveled, and bags under her eyes. "Can you two please keep it down? I had a long night."

"Sorry," Ken said.

Katrina yawned, and went back into the living room.

Once she was out of view, Ken continued in a lower voice. "Don't make any other weird things while you're in this house! And we really need to talk about any other quirky equipment you have."

"I'll make a list."

Ken put his right hand up to his head. A headache was coming on.

Wonderful. She was going to make a list.

* * *

Ken, Katrina and Angelica arrived at Matilda's shop. Angelica decided to tag along, as she had finished her preparation for starting work. Cassandra and Alisa decided to remain at home to do the last of theirs.

Matilda had been expecting them. She had everything set up, including clothes, furniture and a doll house. She had set up a little boudoir-screen and gave the first outfit to Katrina to change.

Even for a guy who knew nothing about dolls, or architecture, or even art in general, he was impressed with how detailed the doll house was. It looked like something that would be seen from an overhead shot in a movie. Half the house opened, showing all of the rooms. Ken looked closer.

"These bathroom sinks aren't made of real porcelain, are they?"

"You've got an observant eye," Matilda commended him.

Ken whistled, amazed at the degree of detail that went into it. "This thing must have cost a fortune. How much did you pay for it?"

"It's actually a family heirloom. My grandfather was a doll and dollhouse maker. But he only made five of these before he passed away. Three were given away to friends and business associates, while I got two of them. I sold one of them to start this store."

"I'm done!" Katrina said from behind the screen.

"Let's see," Matilda said.

Katrina stepped out from behind the changing screen. She was dressed in a Victorian style dress, complete with hat and umbrella.

"You look adorable!" Matilda and Angelica exclaimed in unison.

"That you do," Ken agreed.

Katrina blushed. "Don't stare so much. You'll embarrass me . . ."

"You're so cute!" Matilda squealed.

She must have put holes in the back of Katrina's clothes for her wings, since they were poking out.

"So, shall we start?" Matilda asked, picking up her digital camera.

And so started about an hour of taking pictures of the doll-sized Katrina in various outfits and from several angles. She was very photogenic, and was always smiling, showing everyone a pure, vibrant side of her.

Ken would glance over to them now and then to make sure nothing funny was going on, but Angelica was there to also keep an eye on things, so he took a long look around the doll shop. He didn't have an interest in dolls – his sister did – but he had to admit everything in the shop was well made. Everything from the dolls, to the clothing, to the accessories. Even the doll on the far shelf that was moving.

Moving . . . ?

He walked closer to a shelf near the far wall that had three dolls on it. Two looked identical, and the third was a little different from the other two, just the way the face looked. He peered even closer, but found nothing out of the ordinary, and assumed it was his imagination. He shrugged, and went back to the dollhouse.

It really was exquisite and he wished he had that kind of artistic talent.

"Okay. How about you change into the blue one?" he heard Matilda say.

"Okay," Katrina replied.

Angelica came over to Ken and looked as well. "Anything wrong?"

"I'm just amazed at how well made this is. But there's something else."

"As in . . . ?"

Ken lowered his voice. "I don't know why, but I feel like I'm being watched in here."

"Aren't you imagining things?" Angelica said.

"You two are awfully quiet," Matilda asked them. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Ken thinks someone's watching him in here."

Matilda chuckled. "Most people do."

"I thought I saw one of them move," Ken said.

"Most people do," she repeated.

Ken rubbed his eyes and pointed behind him. "I could have sworn that one moved."

"Which one?"

He walked them over to the shelf he was at earlier and zeroed in on the doll.

"You certainly do have a good eye," Matilda said.

"Huh?"

"This doll is a bit special. When I first ordered dolls for this shop, it popped up in the box that arrived."

"Popped up?"

"Not literally. It was something I didn't order. I contacted my distributor and the only answer I could get was that it must have been some sort of promotional item. I didn't argue."

Ken looked at the doll again, but still didn't find anything out of the ordinary.

"No, she's not for sale."

"Wasn't planning on buying it."

"Say, do you know why people made dolls?" Matilda asked.

"Not really. Something to practice making clothes for?"

"Some are said to have a 'spiritual significance.' Some take a central role in ceremonies, some guard the dead, some protect from evil spirits, some have health benefits, and the like. Most of them are just toys."

"What do you believe?"

"I believe they're cute."

"I'm ready!" Katrina called out.

The pictures came quickly, with Katrina in more outfits to boost Matilda's hand-made brand of clothes. The final costume was used for a very short video of the front door of the doll house. Katrina exited, facing the camera, put up her umbrella and said, "Welcome to Matilda's!"

"Absolutely perfect!" Matilda squealed.

"What was that one for?" Ken asked.

"For the splash page for my website. Katrina, this is going to be huge! Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

"Are you going to come back and be my model again?"

Katrina looked up at Ken. "Am I?"

"If you want to," he replied, putting out his hand and patting her on the head with his index finger.

* * *

"Did you have fun?" Angelica asked Katrina.

"I think so."

Angelica glanced at Ken, and saw his concerned look, even as he drove.

"What's wrong?" Angelica asked. "Still thinking about that doll?"

"Yeah. I'm still a little unnerved."

"Even Matilda told you it was your imagination."

"Which doll was that?" Katrina asked.

"The one on the far shelf."

"Oh, that one. It was looking at you."

Ken nearly lost control of the vehicle, and barely missed an oncoming car.

"What did you say!?"

"She was moving around a little, and then when you went to take a look at her, she was glancing at you afterward."

"I didn't see anything," Angelica said.

"That's why Cataloguers are so perceptive!" Katrina boasted.

Ken gripped the steering wheel a little harder. He had the feeling something else was going on at that store. But nothing bad had happened, so should he be concerned? Maybe Matilda was more than met the eye.

There would be plenty of time to figure it out if need be. Katrina was probably going back there at some point.

* * *

The phone rang. Ken picked it up.

"Hello, Goldwrite residence."

"Ken!" came a hysteric female voice over the phone.

"Um, yes?"

"It's me, Matilda. I need help!"

"Help? What's happened? Did that doll come to life and take over the shop?"

"No! It's worse!"

Ken couldn't imagine something worse than an inanimate object coming to life and taking over a store.

"What do you mean?"

"I released my new line two days ago, using the pictures and videos I took!"

"Okay . . ."

"And I've gotten so many visitors, my website crashed three times!"

"Wow. Then it was a success, right?"

"Yes!"

"I'm not much of a computer person, but I know a website crash isn't as bad as a doll coming to life."

"Well, you see, people now want full, human-sized versions of the clothes! Do you know any cute people to be models?"

Ken thought a moment. "Nah. No one good looking around here that I know."

"Okay. Let me know if you can think of anyone!"

"All right. Will do."

Ken hung up the phone.

"Well, it looks like your modeling helped Matilda out," he announced to Katrina

He turned to look for her, and felt a tug on his sleeve. Katrina was hovering next to him with a worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"Um . . . I think they heard you, so you might want to run," she said, pointing toward the couch.

"Huh?"

He looked and saw . . .

. . . Cassandra and Natalia. Both of them were very, very mortified . . . and very, very angry.

Ken jumped to the stairs and headed down them.

He almost made it to the front door.

Almost.

The 'sensation' that hit him felt conspicuously like a recliner being dropped on him, but since he'd never been hit with one before, he had nothing to compare it to.

* * * * *

Katrina flew down from the display case, and landed on the coffee table. Ken was sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper and sipping some coffee.

"Ken? I've got a problem."

"Shoot."

She cocked her head. "What?"

"'Shoot' can also mean 'go ahead'."

"Oh. Well, it's an English question."

"Sure," Ken said, and took a drink of coffee.

"What's the difference between 'naked' and 'buck naked'?"

Ken almost choked on his coffee. He put the cup on the coffee table, and after coughing a few times, he gave her a horrified look. "Of all questions, why that!?"

"I was reading a novel and it came up. I get the 'naked' part, but what or who is 'buck?' Was he the one that wrote it in the dictionary, or the first one to use the term a lot? So, was he naked all the time?"

"I don't think so," Ken replied.

"Then who is he?"

"I don't think 'buck' is supposed to be a person. It's the same meaning, but you add 'buck' for emphasis."

"Oh! Okay. I have one more."

"Go ahead," he encouraged her, cautiously.

"What's 'nekkid' mean?"

Ken buried his hands in his palms, thinking "Why me?"

## Chapter Five

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Working!

Ken sighed.

They'd only been in his house a short time, but now he realized how difficult things were getting. His days used to be simple, quiet, serene. Granted, it was nice to have someone in the house to make it less empty – full as the case currently was – but he had naturally forgotten to take into account certain . . . logistics.

For example, he hadn't considered the fact that all his tenants might have been female. He had assumed there would have been an even split on the genders. It wasn't a bad thing – his tenants were easy on the eyes – it was just he hadn't considered the extreme end of it.

He was sorely outnumbered. He didn't know what alien women were like, but they seemed 'human' enough. And if they were human, he'd rather detonate his house with high-yield explosives rather than let them redecorate. Their own rooms were a different story, and he left them to their own devices.

So, really, what was he supposed to do for them? He didn't have any kids so he didn't know how to 'raise them,' but as they weren't that much younger than he was, was there a need?

Cultural notes and background was a given. What was he going to teach them? He was just a normal guy, and now painfully aware that he didn't know as much about the background of his own country as he should have. He thought he knew more, but actually teaching them about it? Explaining the significance and origin of Halloween? Christmas? New Years? Labor Day? International Talk Like a Pirate Day?

It would probably be best if he knew some of their customs as comparison, but realized he knew very little about them.

Except what underwear they wore.

In the laundry room, Ken grumbled about them forgetting to separate their colors from their whites. He had the foresight to ask if their clothes were machine washable, and the reply was in the affirmative, except for their formal dress clothes.

Apparently, one could tell a lot about a person by the type of underwear they wore. At least that's what Ken had heard from an acquaintance. Considering his tenants, there might have been a bit of truth to it.

Cassandra's was no nonsense and neither was Alisa's. Natalia's was high class, and Angelica's was believably elegant.

"Great Scott. Bowling balls could fit in these," he remarked, referring to a set of 'upper body support.'

Ken had to find a small bag with holes to wash Katrina's clothes. Otherwise they'd probably disappear or clog the washer or dryer. He shook his head, feeling awkward about trying to find some deeper meaning based on underwear.

"Hey, Ken, I brought some more—" Natalia stopped in her tracks at the door.

Ken was holding the bra, outstretched.

"Quite the hobby you have, don't you?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"No!"

"As long as it's not mine."

"Knock it off! You women change clothes more often than there are houses in this city!"

"First time washing ladies' unmentionables?"

"As if! My mother and my sister did live here, remember?"

"At any rate, enjoy yourself," she quipped sarcastically, and then left.

He knew his tenants wouldn't be good for his mental wellbeing. Now he had a tenant who thought he had an unhealthy interest in used underwear. The last thing he needed was her to spread even a tiny rumor—

A moment later, he heard fast-paced footsteps, and someone skipping several stairs as she came down. It had to have been a 'she,' since the only man in the house was trying to keep his sanity while going through underwear.

Cassandra stopped in the doorway with a look of anger on her face.

"What are you doing to our underwear!?" she screamed, sword drawn and pointed at him.

"What does it look like I'm going to do!? I'm going to wash them! You ladies didn't separate the colors like I asked!"

"Is that all?"

Ken was getting very irritated with the insinuations. "Who would have any interest in your underwear!? There's nothing to look at! Your bra is only big enough to hold marshmallows. And do me a favor. Wipe a little harder!"

Sometimes, one must consider the possible effects of one's words.

First mortified, then shaking with fury, she stepped forward and [THIS PORTION HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR YOUR PROTECTION, DUE TO DESCRIPTIONS OF THE HUMAN SPINE BEING BENT IN UNAPPETIZING DIRECTIONS.]

* * *

Alisa was staring at the red creature.

It was staring back up at her.

"Ellen?"

No answer.

"Mary?"

Nope.

"Shelley? Stephanie? Amanda? Cassandra?"

She yawned at Alisa.

Alisa consulted the piece of paper in her hand.

"Konomi? Hitomi? Aoi? Mana?"

The fox tilted her head.

"Does that mean I'm close?"

The fox flipped her tail.

Alisa sighed. "I wish you could talk."

The fox looked up at her, expectantly, as usual.

Ken opened the back door and stepped out, a bowl in each hand. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out this creature's name."

"She might not like being referred to as 'creature'."

Ken put the bowls down on the ground, and the fox started eating.

They heard someone coming up the deck stairs. It was Silver.

"Having a party?" he asked.

"Yeah! We were just about to bring out the cake. Care to join us?" Ken responded sarcastically.

"Nah. Not fond of cake."

"Neither am I."

"But seriously, what are you two doing?"

The fox glanced up at him.

"Sorry. The three of you."

"I'm trying to think of a name for this crea . . . um, fox," Alisa said.

Silver kneeled down and looked at the fox.

"How about 'Setsuna'?"

"Why do you say that?" Ken asked.

"It seems appropriate. It's not as if she has super-powers and is able to change into a human shape, or anything like that."

Ken threw up his hands, regretting he had asked. "It's official. You're crazy."

"May be," Silver said, petting the fox on the head.

Alisa saw the fox looking at Silver . . . suspiciously, if there could be such a reaction from an animal. The fox scampered down the stairs, only finishing half of her food.

"Got any coffee?" Silver wondered at Ken.

Ken gestured to the kitchen with his head. "In the dispenser on the counter."

Silver went inside, and Ken was about to follow. Alisa was still standing there, staring at Ken.

"What?" Ken asked.

"Are we having cake?"

"Um, no—"

"I want cake."

"It was kidding about—"

"I like cake."

"Alisa, the cake—"

He could only think of one line.

"—is a lie."

* * *

Natalia arrived at a local hotel. There was a meeting of distributors in the tri-state area at noon, and Natalia's father arranged for her to attend. She was dressed in a business suit, as she was told that it was one of the best ways to make a first impression on prospective clients on Earth. The limo pulled up to the entrance of the hotel, and the chauffer opened the rear door for her to get out.

"Just to confirm, milady, I will be returning in two hours, correct?"

"Correct."

"Understood."

He closed the door after she exited, got back in the limousine, and drove off.

Natalia headed into the hotel, and toward the meeting hall. A man dressed in a tuxedo was standing near a podium at the entrance. He had been taking invitations and marking off attendees as they entered.

Natalia approached.

"Your name, miss?"

"Natalia Greentyme. Greentyme Cosmetics."

"May I have your invitation?"

Natalia pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to the man. He marked her off, and lightly bowed.

"Welcome, Miss Greentyme. Here is your name tag, so please attach it to your person. Approximately three quarters of the guests have already arrived. Food and drinks are available inside. Please enjoy yourself."

"Thank you."

She went down the hall toward the sounds of conversations. She stopped at the open door, put on her name tag, and viewed the well-dressed attendees.

This was more her element. Higher society. People of power and money. Heads of state, corporations and businesses.

On the flip side, this wasn't the place she wanted to be. Why did her father send her to a backwater, low-technology planet? To see how the other half lived? Get some experience in life? No. It was business, pure business. It was all business to her father.

She stepped in and a man in dress slacks and a polo shirt approached her. "Natalia Greentyme, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

The name on his name tag read 'Alex Miller.'

He appeared to be in his late forties, and his hair was greying, but wasn't losing any. He gave her a big, friendly smile.

"So how do you like the area? Quiet, isn't it?"

"It is a little more rustic than I'm used to."

Unconcerned with her answer, he continued on. "Here, let me introduce you to one of the best shipping companies on the east coast. That'd be 'Scarlet Shipping.' The boss of the company is Scarlet Custom. She's over there."

He led her to a women dressed in slacks, with black hair pulled into a ponytail. "Hey, Scarlet honey, this is the daughter of the Greentyme Cosmetics' CEO. She's looking to make contacts here. Thought I'd introduce her to the best delivery outfit this side of the Mississippi."

"Well, hello, sugar. I didn't catch your first name."

Sugar?

"Natalia. Natalia Greentyme."

"Well, Natalia, let me give you one of my cards. Trucking and trains are our main modes of transport. We also have ties to some other shipping companies to get your products across the country quickly. I've heard Greentyme is a large company. Is that so?"

"We have factories and a headquarters on every major planet in the Entine Republic. It's always expanding."

"My, your daddy must be a shrewd businessman."

'Shrewd' would be the least explanatory. He was 'tactical,' looking for places that would benefit from having a factory or distribution channels. Some competition was edged out, but those were often overpriced, bourgeoisie cosmetics, where Greentyme products were for the everywoman and everyman.

The problem was, being the tactical businessman he was, it left little time for family. What was once a little company run by her mother and father rapidly turned into a corporation across galaxies. Her father threw himself into his work.

In the end, Scarlet's assessment was correct. "Yes. He's very shrewd."

"Well, I'd like to meet him some day."

"Perhaps when he attends the opening of the distribution center."

The reactions and relationships of business contacts . . . was it always like this on Earth? The way Alex and Scarlet addressed each other – and even Scarlet calling her by a lless-than-format name – they seemed like personal friends. Weren't they in the business to make money? Of course the head of a company should be approachable and sociable. After all, no one likes to deal with someone who is always grouchy. However, they seemed to be crossing the line to the point of being friends.

Was that how business was conducted on Earth?

* * *

"Good luck on your first day, Angelica," Ken said, stopping in front of the hospital.

"Thank you. Good luck, you two," she glanced back at Cassandra and Alisa who were in the back seat.

"You, too," Cassandra replied. Alisa just nodded.

Angelica picked up her bag and left the car.

"If anything happens, you call me. All right?"

"Okay."

"See you this evening."

She closed the door and headed into the hospital.

The director of nursing, Victoria Santos, a tall, blonde woman with short, curly hair, was waiting for her at the front desk in the lobby.

"Miss Elegance," Victoria greeted her. "Welcome to your first day."

"Thank you."

"Don't you have wings? You did the last time we met."

"Oh, they're still here." She turned around to show Victoria where her wings were hugging her back. "I thought that since I'd be moving around a lot, it would be better if I didn't knock anything over."

"Quite right. Let me show you to your wing," she said, and they started walking. "Have you always had an interest in pediatrics?"

"I . . . had someone close to me pass away when they were very young. So I thought maybe I could do something for children."

"I think the children will adore you. You seem to be nice."

Victoria led her to the Nurse's Unit on her wing, the break room, and to her locker. After the introductions of the area, she took Angelica to a room at the farthest end of the wing. The door was closed.

"This young man will be one of the children you'll be looking after."

The name on the room read 'Joseph Masters.'

"He has a heart condition and they're evaluating him to see if he's able to make it through surgery."

"How about I introduce myself?" Angelica asked.

"Seems like a good idea."

They opened the door and there was a small boy, sitting in bed with the TV on. Angelica thought he must have been about nine years old. His brown hair wasn't short, but not long either, and his bangs were reaching down to his nose. He was drawing something on a piece of paper in his lap, and many crayons were spread all over his bed.

"Good morning, Joseph. How are you doing this morning?" Victoria asked.

"It's a nice day out. I wish I could go outside."

"Maybe in a few days. You know how the doctors are watching you."

"Yeah . . ."

Angelica was still in the doorway. Victoria glanced at her, then back to Joseph.

"I've got a surprise for you. We have a new nurse who just started today. And guess what? She's not from this planet."

"You mean she's one of the aliens I heard about on the news?"

"That's right! Come on over, Angelica."

Angelica walked over and extended her hand. "Hi, Joseph."

He was so busy gawking at her he barely was able to shake her hand. "You sure are pretty . . ."

She noticed that his hand was very small, and barely fit in the palm of her hand. She took care to shake it lightly.

"Why, thank you." She looked down at his paper, and saw he was drawing pictures of winged people. "What are you drawing?"

"Angels."

"Angels?"

"Yeah. Every now and then, I see them all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"Some people act like angels. But I really just like the wings."

"Like these?"

Angelica stood up straight, and unfurled her wings slowly so she wouldn't hit anything.

Joseph's mouth dropped open. "Y-You're a real angel!?"

Angelica giggled and shook her head. "No. I'm just a person with wings."

"C-Can I touch them?"

"Sure."

She brought one of her wings down and Joseph cautiously reached up and stroked it. "Wow. It's really soft. Like a bird's wing."

"Everybody on my planet has wings."

"Really!? Tell me some more!"

* * *

"Are you two ready for your classes?" Ken asked, stopping in front of the college.

Both Alisa and Cassandra were dressed in the clothes he had seen them in when they first arrived at his house: Cassandra, formally, and Alisa, informally.

"I think I am," Cassandra replied.

"I am," Alisa said.

"Confident, aren't you?" Cassandra remarked to her cohort.

"I'll pick you two up around the same time I pick up Angelica."

"Got it," Cassandra saluted.

"Understood," Alisa acknowledged.

"Are you sure you're not going to attract attention by carrying that sword around?" Ken nodded toward Cassandra.

"It'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

They got out of the car, and Ken drove off. Checking their classes, they found out that they didn't have any together.

"Well, the linguistics department is this way," Cassandra said, looking toward a large building on the left side of the campus.

"Electronics is over this way," Alisa said, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Shall we meet up in the cafeteria for lunch?"

"Affirmative."

* * *

Cassandra found her room for German 101, and sat down in the column of desks closest to the door, half way back. Classes hadn't started for the day, and the students slowly filed in. She got a few stares from those coming in, but they sat down nonetheless, and class eventually started.

Being the first class of the semester, the teacher went over the syllabus, aims and goals of the class, along with his expectations of the students. The teacher was middle-aged, and retired from the United States Air Force. He had spent many years in Germany, and married a German national. The teacher's introduction took up almost all of the time for the class, so they were dismissed when he was finished.

She had one more class before lunch, and that was Chinese 101. She went there, and in the same way as her German class, people looked at her funny. The teacher was from China, and Cassandra would be hearing from a native speaker.

Class ended early. Right after the class was over, she was headed to the cafeteria, but realized she still has some time left before she would meet Alisa for lunch. She decided to walk around the campus, and then took up a seat on a bench in the garden to wait. She checked her schedule for the afternoon, all the while trying to shake the feeling that people were staring at her as they walked by. It was just a feeling at first, but turned out they really were staring at her. When she would glance in their direction, they would avert their eyes and continue whatever they were doing.

Her first thought was to react by saying "What is it? Haven't you ever seen an otherworlder before?" But she thought ahead and considered that the overwhelming majority of Earthlings had never seen one in the flesh. She didn't look like one, so her sword was the point of contention.

Lunch time finally arrived, and she went to the cafeteria.

* * *

Alisa was at a work table in the classroom as the other students arrived. She had her tool kit and books out, and was watching the others as they came into the classroom.

She realized she already knew all of what they were going to teach, but on a different level. Some of the techniques and materials used on Earth were different than she was used to, and the components she was familiar with weren't readily available to her. Thus the need for studying intermediate classes to make do with what she could find.

There was only one other female in the class, so they were paired up.

"I'm Fay," she said.

"Alisa."

"Where are you from?"

"Kodominé."

"Kodo . . . what? Never heard of that place. Is it out west?"

Alisa pointed up.

"North? Like in Canada?"

"No. Up."

"Up?"

"The planet Kodominé."

The gears in Fay's head clicked. "You're . . . one of the aliens?"

"Yes."

"Wow. You look so normal."

"I think the same about you," Alisa quipped, opening her tool kit.

"Huh?"

* * *

"How many classes did you have already?" Cassandra prodded, trying to make small talk with the fellow tenant that normally didn't talk.

"Just one. It was a lab."

"Do you have any others after lunch?"

"Yes. One more. What about you?"

"Two. Japanese and Fran . . . Franch?"

"French?"

"That might be it." Cassandra was looking for some other things to talk about. She had never really carried on a full conversation with Alisa before. The only thing she could come up with was what was the thing that was bothering her earlier.

"Say, have you been getting . . . I don't know how to put it . . . stares from people?"

Alisa shook her head. "Not particularly. By that question, I assume you are?"

"Yeah. I'm just wondering why you're not."

"Putting it bluntly, I'm not carrying a weapon on campus."

"I have a license for it, and permission from the college."

"Be that as it may, how many others on campus have you see carrying one?"

Cassandra looked down at her plate. "Sadly, no one."

"Just because you can carry one freely on Talsenia doesn't mean Earth is the same."

Cassandra had to concede the point to Alisa. "Then what do you think I should do?"

"Stop caring about what other people think."

"I see," was all Cassandra could say, knowing that Alisa's answer was the right call.

"You might want to wear some clothes that are more Earth-like."

"I'm comfortable in these."

"Suit yourself."

Cassandra looked down at her clothes. "Do I really look that odd?"

"To me? No. I'm just thinking about how others may react. There are two ways to go about this: either make a stand now, or conform to at least a small degree. There are benefits and detriments to either choice. You need to decide based on what makes you, you. I came into this exchange program to experience another culture, not to try and change other people, and not to try and find myself. Don't take this the wrong way, but what did you come to this planet for?"

The question from the quiet tenant – who was talkative for the moment – made her stop. Why did she come? She leapt at the chance to leave home and come to a new planet. For a long time, she felt a little out of place on Talsenia, and the chance to reinvent herself—even just a little bit—was something that she couldn't pass up. Perhaps she simply wanted to get away from her home and her mother's constant pressure of making her live in a specific way.

"It wasn't supposed to be a deep question," Alisa announced, puzzled that Cassandra was taking so long to answer.

"Then what do you think of this planet? We've been here about two weeks or so. Any opinions?"

"I haven't been here long enough to form an opinion. That being said, it seems like a good place. The other tenants are amusing, to say the least. And Kenaeth seems responsible, if high strung."

"Do you think we'll be fine?"

"Why not? And since you asked me, what about you?"

"About here?" She had to stop a moment and consider the question. "I think about the same as you. I'm not too fond of Natalia, but there are always people around that will rub you the wrong way. And then there's Ken."

"What about him?"

"I like him. He reminds me of my dad."

Alisa raised an eyebrow. "Electra complex?"

"No!"

* * *

French class went off without a hitch, and that meant the same as her classes before lunch – stares.

The teacher was a young man, not much older than the students. He was spirited and jovial, and was smiling all through the first lesson.

She made the point to take multiple 'romance languages' next semester, so at least some classes would have a similar background.

Her final class of the day was Japanese. It was taught by another native, a Japanese woman in her late twenties. Cassandra was at least thankful some of the characters were similar to Chinese, but the languages were about the same as an orange and a grapefruit: they may vaguely look similar on the surface, but most everything else is completely different.

The class finished, and that meant the end of her classes for the day. She was ready to go home, but needed to find Alisa before Ken arrived.

As she put her things away in her bag, she was approached by three students: two young women, and one young man. The shorter of the two women had short light brown hair to her shoulders; the taller one had black hair down her back, flowing free. The man had short light brown hair about the same color as the shorter of the women.

Cassandra mentally went on the defensive. After all of the stares she received that day, it was the first time any student, minus Alisa, had talked with her.

The woman with shorter hair asked, "Say, we've seen you around campus and we were wondering what the sword was for."

"My mother gave it to me. She was in the Talsenian military."

"Talsenia?"

"A planet a couple of galaxies away."

"Wow! You're one of those aliens!" the long-haired woman reacted excitedly.

"Y-Yes."

The young man cut in. "Don't mind her. My twin sister is always too energetic."

"Quiet, you!"

"I'm Guy, my sister Jill," he pointed to the long-haired woman, "and our childhood friend Nellie."

"Cassandra Pyredom."

"'Pyre?' As in . . . ?"

"Yes. My ancestors were morticians generations ago."

"Your outfit looks like some sort of sci-fi military," Nellie commented

"You're correct."

"You're kidding."

"No. Talsenia has a long military history. And – well, that'll have to wait for another time. My ride home is going to be here soon."

"You don't drive?"

"Not yet."

"We'll have to have lunch the day after tomorrow," Jill said. "Will you be here?"

"I think so," Cassandra replied. "I'll have to check my schedule."

"We'll talk more then."

"See you, Cassandra," Guy said.

"Bye!" Nellie waved as she turned around.

And the three students walked out the door.

Cassandra let out a sigh of relief. Making new acquaintances was easier than she thought on Earth. At least they had the nerve to step up to and talk to her.

Was she really that intimidating?

Then she remembered her sword.

* * *

Angelica was already in the car when Cassandra and Alisa spotted Ken's vehicle.

As they drove home, Ken began the interrogation. "So, everyone, how was your first day?"

"The children are cute. But I wish I could do more for them," Angelica said.

"Lots of languages to remember," Cassandra said.

"Easy classes," Alisa said.

"Anybody get hit on yet?" Ken asked.

"'Hit on'?" Angelica echoed.

"Any guys profess a romantic interest?"

"No," Angelica said. "There aren't any men on my wing."

"No," Cassandra lamented.

"Three," Alisa announced.

Ken looked at her in the rear view mirror. "Three!?"

"There is only one other woman in my classes. Once they found out I wasn't from this planet, there was no end of questions."

"Then you're a big hit there," Ken nodded approvingly.

"But they were asking about teleporters, holo-rooms, beamsabers, BT-BTs, and trylithium crystals. Do you know anything about them?"

Ken shrugged. "Can't say that I do."

* * *

"Junction A16TNK345B11—" Katrina stopped, took a deep breath, and continued, "—11Q5488IHJ73. Cataloguer Katrina Faerblood here," Katrina said to the monitor in front of her.

A woman appeared on the screen. "Cataloguer Faerblood. How are you doing?"

"Oh, fine. I'm calling to give my weekly report and transmit data."

"Understood. Was there anything out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing I could find. There are minor spikes and fluctuations, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. I do have a different concern."

"Explain."

Katrina put her right index finger up to the edge of her mouth, and tipped her head in thought. "How should I put it? It's like this area is a place where different types of space-time energies flow over. I know that's not unique, but I think it's a first for me."

"I've noted your concern. Do you think you need another manipulator there to do in-depth data extraction?"

"I don't think so. Like I said, it's hard to put my finger on it. Every now and then it's like an itch on the back of my neck."

"We know you're a sensitive Cataloguer, and that was the reason you were sent to that junction. Please continue the data collection. If you feel it's an issue, we'll look at the data so far and determine the next course of action. On a personal matter, how is your new experience there?"

"Unexpectedly fun. There will be a lot of cultural events in the next few months. The landlord, or owner of this house, is a responsible person. However, I get a 'fuzzy' feeling from him sometimes."

"Is that an interpersonal critique, or a concern?"

"I'm not sure. It sure is interesting, though."

"How are the others around you? I've heard there are others living there."

"There are four other tenants. One from Forshe, Falldine, Kodominé and Talsenia."

"Are any of them space-time aware?"

"I don't think so."

"And where is your place?"

"On top of a display cabinet in the living room."

Katrina heard a noise from downstairs, and talking.

"It looks like they're back. I'll call back for a new update next week."

"Understood. Goodbye, Cataloguer Faerblood."

Katrina turned off the communication, and then flew down to greet Ken, Angelica, Cassandra and Alisa as they walked up the stairs. She noticed Natalia wasn't around.

"Natalia's not with you?" she asked.

"That limo is bringing her home. She should be here soon, so I'll get the food started," Ken said as he walked into the kitchen. Cassandra and Alisa went into their rooms and Katrina followed Ken into the kitchen and sat on his head.

"How was your day, Katrina?"

"It was okay. Now that everyone's home, it'll be better."

"Do you like your living space?"

"Yeah!"

* * *

Ken was sitting at the dinner table going through coupons. Even though there was extra money coming in, he never knew what would happen tomorrow. It still paid to be frugal, but not as much as when he lived alone.

The cheese and broccoli caught his eye, as did the one for bags of meatballs. No one was in the living room, and Katrina was sitting on the table, helping him go through the flyers.

"Brus . . . bru . . . What are these?" Katrina asked.

"Brussel sprouts. They're like mini heads of cabbage. Want some?"

"Let's give it a shot."

"Oh, and that's a double coupon," Ken said, clipping it out of the advertisement.

"And what's this? Piz . . . za?"

"I don't think you all have had pizza before. That's a coupon for a local place, so maybe we'll order out soon."

They both saw Cassandra walk out of the hall from the corner of their eye.

"Hey, Cassandra," Ken called out, looking back to the coupons.

"Why so glum?" Katrina asked.

"Ken, can I ask you a question?"

Ken put his coupons down and looked up at her. "It depends on what it is."

"I mean about me. I need your opinion, as an Earthling."

He gave her a confused look, but shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Do I look . . . strange?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, I was talking with Alisa, and the sword and outfit may be . . . odd here on Earth. I kept getting stares at college."

"Hmm. You want my honest opinion?"

"Yes, your honest opinion."

Ken crossed his arms and looked her up and down. "Truthfully, the sword is odd. Nobody carries a sword around in this day and age, and honestly, it probably scares people."

"I see," she sighed, hoping she would have heard a different critique.

"That might have sounded different than I wanted. Maybe it would have been better to say that people aren't used to seeing it."

"Oh. And what about the outfit?"

"My personal opinion is it looks good. It shows off your hourglass figure."

Cassandra turned bright red. "I . . . um . . . thank you."

"The best thing I can say is 'be yourself'. Don't forget who you are. As soon as you do forget, you'll no longer be you. If you want different clothes, I can't give you a good opinion on what to pick out, since that's more Natalia's territory, I think. Above all, just be yourself, but there's nothing wrong about changing yourself a little bit. I think you'd look good in pink and a skirt."

Cassandra went red again. "T-Thank you . . ." she said, and skipped back to her room.

He turned back to the table. "So, where were we?"

That's when he noticed Katrina was grinning at him like an idiot.

Ken cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"Is it really all right for you to be hitting on your tenants?"

"She wanted my opinion and I gave it to her. And just where did you learn a term like 'hitting on'?"

"From Alisa."

"A-Alisa!? Her!?"

Alisa barely talked, and made all manner of strange contraptions in her room. Ken had no idea what was going on in that technical head of hers, so he was shocked that she knew that much slang. What was being taught on their planets about Earth?

Then Ken remembered he had just taught three of them that phrase a few hours ago.

"You'd be surprised at what otherworlders have learned about the English language."

"I'm curious about any other iffy phrases you know."

"You know, we do compare notes when you're not around," Katrina said.

"Notes? There are none about me, right?"

Katrina turned back to the coupons. "This soup looks good."

"Don't dodge the question!"

## Chapter Six

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Neighbors!

Cassandra and Alisa were at college, Angelica was sleeping late due to an off-schedule day, and Natalia was in her room, working on some sort of presentation, and Katrina was working on something called a 'space-time differential data bloc,' whatever that was.

He let them all be.

He was putting away dishes and utensils when he realized it was laundry day again. Starting with the top floor, he went to each of their rooms, emptied their personal hampers, and was about to wash them when he forgot to check the upstairs bathroom.

He went up the stairs, and noticed the bathroom door was slightly ajar, but the light was off to note there was no one in there.

No one in there but Angelica, which Ken found out when he opened the door: naked as the day was long, illuminated only by the small nightlight in the corner.

She was drying her hair with a towel.

"Hi, Ken!" was all she said, happily.

Ken, in the condition that would personify the 'deer in the headlights' look, couldn't move. The synapses in his brain had shut down, and his mouth dropped open wide enough to drive a semi into it.

Then the machinery in his grey matter kicked back in, and he quickly pivoted around the corner. "What are you doing in there!?"

"I took a shower," he heard her say.

"In the dark!?"

"There's a nightlight, and leaving the lights off saves electricity, right?"

"For the sake of my heart, turn on the lights, okay?"

She stepped out into the hallway, still wearing her birthday suit.

Ken shut his eyes and put up his hands in defense. "Please put some clothes on!"

"But they're all downstairs."

"Then at least a towel!"

"Well, okay," she acquiesced, wrapping the towel around her body. "Would you help me dry my wings? They're kind of hard to get at."

"Fine. Just get dressed first, all right?"

* * *

Ken was softly stroking her wings with a bath towel. He was just hoping that no one was listening, as they would most definitely get the wrong idea about what was going on.

"Aaahh . . ." she breathed.

"Can't I just use a hair dryer for this?" he asked.

"No, since a heated dryer causes my wings to build up static for a day. I'd keep shocking everyone I touched."

Ken continued drying her wings.

"Oooooh," Angelica moaned. "You're very gentle. You've done this before, haven't you?"

Ken groaned, but continued to dry her feathers.

Katrina glanced down from her overlook. "Should you two be doing that out in the open?"

Ken shook his head. He knew his stress level wasn't about to drop any time soon.

* * *

Alisa was sitting alone in the electronics lab, working on a machine. A small one, about the size of a lunch box. The rest of the students had left for the day, since they only had to show their progress on their current project.

Cold fusion was a lot harder than it looked. She didn't tell anyone that she was working on a miniature fusion generator.

She had already completed her other projects for the week, and was using some parts from Earth, along with some of her own equipment. When people asked what she was making, she just told them "A power supply." It seemed to satisfy them. Telling them it was a miniature reactor would be bad, making them have a reaction worse than Ken when she used the spatial expander to increase the size of her room.

She soldered some pieces to other pieces, and sighed as she put her tools down. She wished she could have used another tool of hers, but she forgot to bring it. Earth technology was primitive by her standards, and still had a long way to go.

She heard a knock on the open door, and saw Cassandra.

"Hey, Alisa."

"Cassandra. What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's lunch time. I got out a little early from class. Want to join me?"

"Sure. I'm not going to get this finished any time soon."

They went downstairs to the cafeteria. Alisa ordered spaghetti, and Cassandra a hamburger.

"Say, Alisa, if you knew danger was coming soon, what would you do?"

"You're asking me? Don't you have a military background? I thought you'd be prepared for anything."

"Some people from my planet, maybe. Me? Not so much."

Alisa put her fork down. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No . . . no. I just can't shake the feeling something's going to happen soon."

"Something?"

"I wish I knew what it was," Cassandra sighed, and then took a bite of her burger. It had been bothering her shortly after coming to the planet. It was like someone was tapping on her shoulder every now and then. It was light at first, but started to get harder and harder as the days went on.

Alisa had been sharing her lunch break with Cassandra since they started their studies, and generally talked about their classes, and how they were adjusting to life on Earth. But it was the first time Alisa had seen her fellow tenant more serious than usual.

"There she is! Cassandra!"

Cassandra heard a familiar voice from across the room. She looked up and saw Jill, along with Guy and Nellie.

Cassandra waved them over.

"Friends of yours?" Alisa asked.

"Yeah. We've only talked on the phone a few times though, and talk before and after class."

The trio came to the table.

"We've been looking for you," Jill announced in her usual hyper self.

"Me? What for?"

"Hold it, hold it, Jill," Guy chided his sister. "There's someone else at the table here, isn't there?"

"Oh, sorry."

Cassandra realized they had never met Alisa before. "This is my friend and fellow tenant, Alisa Maestral."

Nellie took a long look at Alisa. "Are you . . . ?"

Alisa looked at Cassandra for a way to respond to her vague question.

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. She's another otherworlder."

"You look so normal!" Jill reacted.

Guy lightly knocked his sister on the head with his knuckles. "You're being rude, sister of mine." He leaned toward Alisa. "I'm very sorry. My sister tends to say what's on her mind."

"That's all right. You all look normal, too."

Guy laughed, and understood what she was getting at. "I'm Guy, this is Jill, and our friend Nellie."

"Nice to meet you all."

"Any particular reason you were looking for me?" Cassandra asked Guy.

Jill cut in, getting really close to Cassandra. "We're going to see a triple feature this weekend at a local theater. We were wondering if you wanted to come with us!"

Cassandra leaned away. "What's a 'triple feature'?"

Guy pulled his sister out of Cassandra's face. "It's three movies in a row. You've seen movies before, right?"

Cassandra nodded. "Of course. We have movies on Talsenia."

"Good. Jill wants to see the Deluxe Limited Advanced Extended Anniversary editions of the last three movies in the Star Doors series. Have you seen them?"

"I don't . . . believe so. I haven't seen many Earth movies."

"Well, they're science fiction movies. Not my cup of tea, but," pointing to his sister, "I lost a bet, so I had to buy advance tickets. Jill's into sci-fi, and Nellie's never seen them before."

"So, we were wondering if you wanted to go with us," Jill asked.

"Jill, there's someone else at the table."

"Good idea, Guy! Alisa, do you want to come, too?"

"I'm not one to see movies."

Jill gave her a disappointed look. "Oh, well. I wanted some opinions from people not from planet about if they have things like beamsabers and BT-BTs."

Alisa's eyes went wide. "Beam . . . sabers?"

"Yeah. But, oh well."

"I'll go."

Cassandra looked at her fellow tenant strangely, given the quick change of heart.

"Okay, how about we meet at the shopping mall on Saturday? Cassandra, I'll give you a call tonight with all the details, okay?"

"Okay."

"See you both later," Guy said as the trio left.

"Say, Alisa, what's a 'beamsaber'?"

"I'm not sure myself, but considering I've been asked before in class and I don't know, we're going to find out."

* * *

There was a knock at the back door.

"Kenny!" shouted a young, female voice.

Ken, who was in the kitchen, opened the back door and outside was a half-pint, cute, ten year old girl dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. She pushed her strawberry blonde hair away from her freckled face, and gave him a smile as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.

"Hi, Stacey. How's summer vacation going?"

He stepped back and she came in.

"Not bad. Do you have an ice pop?"

"Banana or blueberry? Or, I've got rocket pops."

"Rocket pop!"

Curious about the commotion, Katrina fluttered into the kitchen.

Stacey's eyes went wide. "It's a pixie!"

Katrina looked at Ken. "What's a pixie?"

"A small, flying girl or boy. With wings."

"But I don't call myself a pixie."

"Then what are you?" Stacey asked.

"I'm from a planet called Betlin."

"You're an alien pixie? That's neat!"

Ken went to the freezer and pulled out a wrapped multi-colored ice treat that was in the vague shape of a rocket. He handed it to her.

She quickly unwrapped it and started eating.

Curious as well, Cassandra came in from the living room. Her face brightened when she saw Stacey. "She's adorable! What's your name?"

"Stacey Pierson. I live two houses down. What's your name?"

"Cassandra."

Stacey glanced up to Ken. "Did you get married since the last time I saw you?"

"No!"

"Are you another alien?" she asked of Cassandra.

"Yes."

"Wow. I met two aliens in five minutes."

Alisa and Natalia came into the kitchen, too.

"More aliens!" Stacey shouted.

"Whose child is this?" Natalia quizzically asked.

"I live two houses down."

Alisa just stared at Stacey.

"What?" Stacey asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"C-Cute . . ."

Stacey looked around at all the female aliens.

"Wow, Ken, you know a lot of girls. You're a 'player,' aren't you?"

Ken went white.

"Ken?" Natalia asked. "What's a 'player'?"

"Where did you learn that!?" Ken asked Stacey.

"I don't know. I think I heard it on TV. Why? What does 'player' mean?"

"You'll find out when you're older." And he rushed to change the subject. "What's the plan for today, Stacey?"

"Four-leaf clovers, praying mantises and foxes."

"Seems like a busy day. Any luck so far?"

"No . . ." She looked at Katrina. "Want to help me?"

"What's a four-leaf clover?" Katrina wondered.

"The luckiest flower on the planet!"

"What's a praying mantis?"

"The neatest insect on the planet!"

"Careful," Ken cautioned. "Don't mess with them. They're a protected species."

"I know. I just want to look at them. I saw a baby one last year, and it was so tiny! It was hanging on a wall, and it was really windy out, and was hanging on as hard as it could!"

Katrina flew over and landed on Stacey's head. "Let's go!"

"Okay!" She stepped over to Ken and gave him a hug. "Bye, Kenny!"

He hugged her back. "See you in a few hours."

She headed out the door with rocket pop in hand, and Katrina on head.

"Ah. The joys of youth," he said, watching her disappear.

Ken had the feeling he was being stared at. He turned around, and was being stared at.

"W-What?"

Natalia smiled. "It looks like you have an unexpected soft spot for kids."

"Seems like he would be a good father," Alisa added.

"Just because I don't have any kids means I would be bad with them!?"

"No. It's just . . . unexpected," Angelica conceded.

"Out of the kitchen, you all. I have lunch to make."

They filed out, except for Cassandra.

"What? Something else?" he asked.

She gave him a sly grin, then left.

"What was that for!?"

Did that mean he was a 'target' for her now?

* * *

There was a knock at the front door.

Alisa went down the stairs to the landing, and answered it. "Yes?"

She saw a woman at the door. "Oh my. Hello, dear. Is Kenaeth here? I don't want to intrude if he has company."

Ken overhead them. "Misses Ling? Come on in."

She and Alisa walked up the stairs and he offered her a section of the sofa.

"You haven't been by in about a week. I was getting worried."

"As you can see, I have guests. The young lady you just met is Alisa Maestral. She's from the planet Kodominé."

"Oh, you're one of the visitors from out there that I heard about."

"Yes, ma'am," Alisa replied.

"And there are more?" Misses Ling said, looking around.

"I'll see where the rest of them are," Ken offered.

When they were all in the living room, Misses Ling could only smile. "My, my. Kenaeth, you've done pretty well for yourself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought harems were outdated."

"Misses Ling! Please!"

She laughed.

"So, Misses Ling," Angelica asked.

"Yes, dear?"

Angelica glanced among the other girls. "Tell us some things about Ken."

Ken went white. "Y-You wouldn't . . . !"

Misses Ling shot him a sideways glance. "Kenaeth, go make tea."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes, ma'am." He walked into the kitchen.

"Whoa," Natalia remarked. "You're certainly a persuasive person. What's your secret?"

"A proper upbringing, and acting ladylike."

"So, what are you going to tell us about Ken?" Cassandra asked.

"I'll try not to say anything embarrassing. I take care of Kenaeth, and he takes care of me. I live alone, just like he does. My husband, God rest his gentle soul, passed away around the same time that Kenaeth's parents were in that tragic car accident. His parents and my family were on a minimum of sociable terms, but Kenaeth was different. He was the one that came by to mow the lawn and do some gardening outside. Also, who do you think taught him how to cook?"

"It is good food," Cassandra remarked.

"Why, thank you."

Ken brought back in a tea set on a platter for everyone, and went back into the kitchen.

"Honestly, he was a little lost after his parents passed on, and his sister left. I knew he was self-reliant, but with nothing to work toward, he was wandering aimlessly. I wish fate would have been a little more kind to him, but it seems it has a way of working itself out."

Misses Ling picked up her teacup, and noticed that it wasn't tea.

"Kenaeth, what happened to the tea?"

"I don't have any left. I'm not a tea drinker, so I didn't stock up. I'm sorry it's just coffee."

"You drink coffee far too much. It's no wonder you're high-strung."

"I'm not high-strung."

"High-strung," Natalia said.

"Yes," Alisa agreed.

"No doubts here," Cassandra concurred.

"I agree," Angelica nodded.

"High-strung like a highly strung string!" Katrina chirped.

"Knock it off, all five of you," Ken moaned. He looked at Katrina, "aren't you supposed to be outside with Stacey?"

"She went in to have lunch, so I'll go back out when she's done."

Ken went back into the kitchen to sulk.

"I hope you ladies will be a positive influence on him," Misses Ling said.

"I heard that!" Ken said from the kitchen.

She giggled.

"It's supposed to be the other way around!" Ken continued.

She ignored him and went on. "Since you ladies will probably be around him more than I will, take good care of him, all right? He's rough around the edges, but he's got a good heart."

"Please stop embarrassing me . . ." Ken said, peeking out of the kitchen.

"Okay, Kenaeth. I still need my lawn mowed."

"I'll do it tomorrow."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. And, ladies? Come and see me any time you have any questions. I may not be your mother, but I've been around a long time, and know secrets that only women know." She turned and smiled at Ken.

Ken rolled his eyes.

"I guess I should be going now." She stood up. "Thank you for the coffee, Kenaeth."

"Any . . . time . . ."

"I'll show myself out." She went down the stairs. They could hear the door open, then close behind her.

Ken's tenants looked at him, and collectively gave an "Awww . . ."

"W-What?"

"She acts like she's your mother," Angelica said. "That's sweet."

"What do you expect? We've been helping each other out for the last few years. She's been a big help. She even cuts my hair when I need it."

"So, she is your mother."

"I guess, in a unique way, she is."

* * *

There was yet another knock at the back door.

Ken was making more coffee. He was amazed at the number of visitors he was getting that same day. Normally, he might get two guests a week. He opened the door.

"Hey, Ken!" a black gentleman said. He had his hair cut short, and dressed in jeans and a green button-up shirt.

"Stan? Haven't seen you in a while. Where the heck have you been?"

"I was overseas doing some contract work."

"Come on in. Coffee?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Ken served him a cup, and they stood in the kitchen, drinking.

"What was your contract work about?"

"It was a construction project on some buildings in eastern Europe."

"I heard that area is really doing well after finding a cache of . . . what was that material? Yvonite?"

Shortly after the otherworlders appeared, Yvonite—a new class of metal—was found in various corners of the planet, but the largest cache was in eastern Europe. It was an incredibly strong material, five times as strong as titanium but just as light, and had energy conductive and heat retaining properties. Ken had heard rumors it was a common metal found on many planets across the universe, and was used in the construction of spaceships.

"Yep. I was paid a pretty penny."

Stan saw something that looked like a fashion doll with wings fly into the kitchen, pick up a tangerine from a bowl on the counter near Ken, then fly out.

Stan went silent. He didn't believe he saw what he just saw. "Ken, did you see that?"

"See? See what?" Ken glanced around.

"Oh, um . . . nothing. Anyway, the women there are downright gorgeous. I had to resist the urge to settle down right then and there."

He saw the 'doll' fly in and pick up a strawberry. Then she flew out.

Stan stopped again, and rubbed his eyes.

"Something wrong?"

"I . . . I don't . . . know . . ."

"Maybe you're still jet lagged?"

"Could be. I keep seeing—"

The doll flew into the kitchen and grabbed another tangerine.

"—THAT!" he screamed, pointing to the doll.

"What?" Ken turned.

"What!? What!? Did I do something wrong!?" Katrina, the doll, said panicking, just as she dropped the tangerine on the counter.

"What . . . what is that!?" Stan shouted, still pointing.

"This is Katrina."

"Katrina!? Then I'm not imaging seeing a small girl fly in here, pick up fruit, then fly out!?"

"Well, she does love fruit."

"That's not the point!"

"Oh, that's right. You've been out of the country. I'm part of an exchange program, and otherworlders are staying at my house."

"Aliens are living here?"

"Yeah."

"Hello!" Katrina waved.

"Is she real?"

"Of course I'm real!" She picked up her tangerine and flew into the living room.

"Is she the only one?"

"No. There are four more."

"You've . . . been busy. When did this happen!?"

"While you were overseas."

"Naturally. But to have five of those fruit-loving butterfly girls must be . . . a handful?"

Ken shook his head. "She's the only one of that size. The other four are . . . well, two are at college, one is due to wake up in a little while, and the other is out."

They heard someone coming up the stairs. They looked out of the kitchen, and there was Angelica – in sleepwear that left little to the imagination.

Boing.

Ken face-palmed. "Angelica, we have a guest. Couldn't you wear something a little less . . . I don't know . . . scandalous?"

"Sorry, but my body temperature goes up when I'm sleeping."

Boing.

"Is that a Falldinian trait?"

"Yes."

Stan was just standing there with his mouth open, and a stupid expression on his face.

"Sh-She's an angel!"

"No," Ken shook his head.

"But the wings . . . and the hair!"

"What does having hair like hers have to do with being an angel? Besides, angels are genderless, aren't they?"

"Okay then, how do you know this person is female?"

Silence.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Stan's eyes went wide. "You . . . dog."

More sounds from downstairs. Alisa and Cassandra came up the stairs.

"Huh? Why are you two home so early?"

Cassandra grimaced. "A sewer line broke right next to the campus. The smell was everywhere. They sent just about everyone home." Cassandra noticed the man in the kitchen with Ken. "Friend of yours?"

"A high school friend of mine."

Stan nodded. "Stan Banks. I live down the street and around the corner."

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"Like . . . wise." Stan then chuckled to himself, and glanced at Ken. "It's like you've got a harem going on here."

"That joke was already done today."

And the questions came one after another. The tenants mainly wanted to know what Ken was like in high school.

"A normal student, if moody. Sometimes a little too serious. People stayed away from him during his last year of high school."

"Why was that?" Katrina asked.

"Near the end of our junior year, he was in a classroom before class. Some students were—"

Ken grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar, and in a very clear, very precise voice, ordered: "Knock it off. Right now."

"Easy there. See what I mean? Moody."

Ken let him go.

"Anyway, an 'event' happened, and people kept their distance. He helped me out, so I stuck with him."

"Enough."

"Like I said," Stan said, nodding his head to his tenants. He took a drink of coffee and went on. "How did you get wrapped up in this, Ken?"

"Someone knocked on my door a while ago. I filled out some paperwork and then they showed up."

"That's it?"

"I'm abbreviating the process. I'm sure there was a lot going on behind the scenes."

"How does your sister figure in to all of this?"

Ken's eyes narrowed. "She doesn't."

"Come again?"

"She doesn't live here anymore. Even if she did come back, there's no room for her here."

"And where did she go?"

"I don't know. I gave her money for her share of the house, and she went on a vacation through Europe."

"She's still there?"

"For all I know."

Stan shrugged. "Anyway, Ken, it's certainly changed around here. I'll have to start coming around more often. But truthfully, are you really going to be all right with all this estrogen?"

"Unfortunately, I think I'm growing ovaries as we speak."

Ken was beaned with a throw pillow.

* * *

A few hours later, there was a knock on the back door. Ken was making dinner, heard the knock, and opened the door.

Stacey and Katrina were there, looking rather bushed.

"Hi, Kenny!"

"Come in, you two. How'd the search go?"

"No praying mantises or foxes. But we found three four-leaf clovers!"

She showed them to Ken.

"Wow. You must be the luckiest girl alive. Say, wait here a moment." Ken went to a drawer behind him and started going through papers. "I thought I saw them here a few days ago. Oh, here they are." He pulled out a handful of plastic cards.

"What are those?"

"Lamination cards. This way, you can turn them into bookmarks."

Ken peeled back one-half of one of the cards, and Stacey handed him a clover. He put it on one side of the card, and sealed it back up. "It's not as good as a real lamination machine, but it'll work."

"That's neat! Make these two!"

Ken repeated the process two more times, and Stacey had three clover cards.

She handed one to Katrina. "Here, Katrina!"

"Are you sure? They're yours. I didn't find one."

"You're my friend, Katrina, so I want you to have one."

"Th-Thank you . . ."

"And one for you, Kenny."

"Why, thank you, Stacey. I'll put it right here on the refrigerator." He used a magnet to stick it to the front door of the refrigerator.

"Well, I gotta get home for dinner. Mom will get mad if I'm late."

"Then get home."

"Bye, Kenny." She gave him a hug. "Bye, Katrina! We'll play again sometime soon."

"O-Okay."

Stacey left.

"Isn't it nice you made a friend?"

"She was really nice."

"So what's with the long face?"

"I'm just . . . a little confused."

"About what?"

"I thought you became lucky after finding a four-leaf clover, not before finding it."

"What do you mean?"

"I made a friend today. That's lucky, right?"

Ken smiled and nodded. "That it is. You've been out all day. Go get yourself a bath before dinner.

"Okay."

"Put your card with your other stuff on the cabinet. Don't get it wet."

She flew out of the kitchen with the card in her hands.

Ken smiled to himself. One of his tenants had made a good little friend.

He noticed Cassandra peeking around the corner, wearing the same sly grin she had on earlier.

"Could you stop that? It's creeping me out."

She frowned. "Spoilsport."

* * *

It was early morning, and Ken opened up the coffee can and found nothing inside.

He sighed. He used to remember when a can of coffee would last him quite a while. The guests helped him go through it quickly, which he hadn't counted on.

"Sheesh," he muttered. "Time to get more. I thought I bought more than enough. Oh, well."

"You know, talking to yourself is a sure sign of mental collapse," a male voice said.

Silver was standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

Ken stood up. "No, it's when you start answering yourself, you have problems. Speaking of which, when did you get here?"

"Long enough to see you talking to yourself. I was trying to come up with some other reaction, but couldn't."

Ken ignored Silver's explanation. "I have to pick up a couple of items at the grocery store anyway, so it's just as well."

"Hmmm," Silver murmured.

"What? Do you need something, too?"

"Take Cassandra with you."

The request took him by surprise. Cassandra? Why would he need to take her?

"Any particular reason?" Ken asked, putting the coffee can in the sink to wash out and reuse later.

"I wish I could tell you."

"Nice way to avoid the particulars."

* * *

"So, why am I going with you again?" Cassandra asked from the passenger's seat.

Ken shrugged. "I'd like to know that, too. Silver said it was a good idea."

She started grinding her teeth when she heard his name.

"Are you still mad about that birthmark thing?"

"If he makes any more smart comments like that again, I'll poke him full of holes."

"Oh, get over it. Angelica had no problem with hers."

"That's because she has no sense of modesty!"

"Calm down, Cassandra," Katrina said from Ken's head.

Cassandra sulked.

"Anyway, Cassandra, have you been to the supermarket here before?"

"No."

"Well, since we'll be starting yours and Angelica's driving lessons next week, one of you two can start doing these supermarket runs."

They pulled into the parking lot, and grabbed a lonely cart that was sitting in an adjacent space.

Inside, Ken knew where he was going, and just told Cassandra to wander around. He and Katrina would find her later.

Ken and Katrina picked out coffee, and found some canned goods that were on sale.

They found everything they needed, except for Cassandra.

"Where is she?" Katrina wondered.

"There's only one place I can think of."

* * *

Cassandra stared at it. It was a massive collection.

What could be possibly greater than it? It was a treasure trove, without a doubt. Cassandra, in her youth, dreamed of being a treasure hunter, exploring old ruins and discovering valuables thought lost to her planet. But nothing she ever dreamed about compared to what she had just discovered. Round, packaged valuables, worth their weight in gold—

—would be an extreme exaggeration.

Hamburger patties weren't as valuable as gold, but Cassandra sure liked them.

Thin.

Thick.

Extra thick.

Angus.

"What's an 'angus'?" she said to herself.

"It's just a type of cattle."

"Oh." She turned around and saw the owner of the voice, Ken, leaning on the handle to his cart, Katrina laying on his head.

"Do you want a pack? We can have hamburgers during the weekend."

Ken didn't wait for an answer, picked up two packed boxes, and put them into his cart.

With everything they needed, they hit the checkout lines. The one with the lowest number of people was the lane they headed to.

The only person in front of them was the maid that Ken and Katrina had seen before. She had a moderate number of goods on the conveyor belt.

"Hello again," Ken greeted her, putting his items on the belt behind hers, making sure to use the divider. Katrina sat on a can of beans, enjoying how the belt moved like an amusement park ride.

"He-Hello," she replied.

She looked over and saw Cassandra, who wasn't with them the first time they met. "Your . . . wife?" she asked.

"No!" Ken responded.

"Possibly," Cassandra replied.

Ken gave her a stern look.

"What?" Cassandra grinned at him.

The maid finished paying for her items, they were packed away in bags, and placed into her cart by the bagger. Just before pushing away, she said "See you next time."

"Yep."

The clerk couldn't help but laugh each time the belt moved. Katrina would squeal "Weee!" and then would come to a stop. She repeated it until the can she was riding on needed scanned.

The bags were put into Ken's cart, and they went outside.

The maid was waiting near the curb, talking on a cell phone. "What? An hour and a half? What am I supposed to do until then? I see . . . Okay. I understand."

It looked like whoever she was talking with had ended the call.

"Um, I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but do you need help getting somewhere?" Ken asked.

"My landlord was supposed to be here a little while ago, but she has been delayed for an hour and a half."

"An hour and a half? Are you just supposed to wait here until then?"

"That's what she said. Thankfully, I didn't buy any perishables."

"Well, where do you live?"

"About ten minutes away by automobile."

"Is that all? I can give you a ride."

The maid shook her head. "That would be too much trouble."

"No trouble at all."

"No trouble at all!" Katrina echoed.

The maid glanced to Cassandra. "And what does your wife have to say about it?"

"She's not my wife!"

Cassandra grinned. "Come now, dear. It will be no trouble at all."

"Stop giving her mixed messages!"

* * *

"We didn't get your name," Ken said, breaking a long silence.

"My name is Sasha Redford. I'm from the planet Koriri."

"Well, I'm Ken Goldwrite. The little one up here is Katrina, and the one back there with the sword is Cassandra."

"Hi!" Katrina said. "But I think I said that to you before."

"Hello," Cassandra said.

Sasha led them through the route to where she was staying at. When they arrived, she unlocked the door and Ken and Cassandra started helping her with the bags. Katrina stayed in the car, listening to the radio.

"This is a nice house," Ken said, putting the bags near the door. "You must have a good room."

The maid winced. "Not . . . really."

"Huh? It's only a one story house, but it looks like there are four bedrooms in this place."

"One bedroom is for my landlord. The second is for her daughter who is in college in another state. The third is a den. And the fourth is a guest bedroom when someone stays after a party."

"Is that all of the rooms?"

"Yes."

"Then where do you sleep?"

Ken could tell she was pondering something, and then quietly said, "This way."

Just from her reaction, Ken had the feeling he didn't like where it was headed.

She led them to a laundry room, and she turned to her right.

"Here."

Ken's heart sank. No. She couldn't have been sleeping there.

"You can't be sleeping here. Tell me you're joking."

She didn't say anything. All she did was slowly shake her head, staring at the long closet and the cot in it.

Ken couldn't grasp the concept. Why would someone invite someone else into their home, and then make them sleep somewhere like a chained animal?

"How long has it been like this?"

"Since I got here."

"This has to be a joke, right? No one would do this kind of thing!"

"I just . . . assumed this is how it was done."

"How it was done!? This is insane! Has Amelta even been by here?"

"Not since I arrived here."

Ken scrambled to understand. What was going on? Sasha arrived earlier than his tenants, and Amelta hadn't done a follow-up yet?

"Ken," Cassandra called out.

Ken was still thinking. He didn't respond.

"Ken," she called out again.

Ken blinked, realizing she was trying to get his attention. "I'm sorry. What?"

"The contract with a landlord states that a suitable living area, specifically a room, has to be supplied to one who will be staying on Earth. I remember at least that much."

"It's okay," Sasha said.

"What . . . ?" Ken breathed.

"Really. It's okay. I mean, I'm used to things like this."

"Are you serious? This is not okay!"

She just shook her head.

"No. It's okay. Really, it's . . ."

She couldn't lie anymore, and just started to sob.

Just looking at the frail woman, crying because of what happened to her – especially this – was more than Ken could take.

She was probably bullied into it. More than likely, she was also bullied into keeping her mouth shut.

He grabbed her arm.

"Come on," he said.

"Where—"

"I don't have time to explain."

Cassandra followed them to the car.

* * *

Ken was back in the waiting area for Sasha's home . . . if one could call it a home. He had taken Sasha to his house, and left her in the care of Alisa, Angelica and Katrina.

Ken had moved a chair into the center of the room, facing the door, so Sasha's landlord wouldn't miss him when she arrived. He was fuming, trying – and failing – to calm down. Ken didn't like bullies, and considering how he had been several years ago, he might do something he regretted when he saw Sasha's landlord.

He heard the sound of a vehicle arriving, stopping, and shortly after, a key unlocking the door.

When the woman came in, she was carrying a shopping bag, and as she dropped it next to the door, she saw that there were a number of grocery bags on the ground.

"Why the hell didn't Sasha put those groceries away? Sasha!" she called. Then she noticed Ken.

"Who are you!?"

"A concerned citizen."

"Breaking and entering is a crime!" she yelled.

"I didn't break in. I was let in by your tenant."

"What the hell is Sasha doing, letting some she doesn't know in?"

"You mean the woman you keep in the laundry room closet?"

"And what's it to you? Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do in my house!?"

"Because you're in violation of your contract. You lied about what you would offer. You see, the people staying here on Earth want to experience the best that we have to offer."

Then he became serious.

"Then we have trash like you here, taking advantage of people like her."

"How dare you."

She went to the sofa, and pulled a crowbar out from under it. "I keep this around for people who try to break in."

"And I told you, I didn't break in."

"Will the police believe that?"

"And you'll lie about Sasha's living conditions too, won't you?"

"She doesn't complain, and goes along with whatever I tell her, or she gets sent home. If I tell her to lie, she will."

The woman took a step forward.

"Oh, Cassandra?" Ken said.

The door closed behind the woman, and Cassandra stepped out from her corner that was hidden behind the open door. She had unsheathed her saber and had it pointed right in the woman's face in the time it took her to turn around.

The woman gritted her teeth. "What do both of you want?"

"It's easy. When you're asked by the handler to give up Sasha's contact, you're going to do it."

"Like hell. I refuse."

Ken stood up.

Cassandra took that as her cue to hold up the tape recorder that was in her free hand. The landlord could see the heads moving.

Ken walked past the woman, stating as he did, "The handler will be in touch."

He and Cassandra both left without another word.

As they drove back, Ken called Amelta. He shouldn't have been doing it while driving, but it was important.

"Yes, Mister Goldwrite. What can I do for you?"

"I would HIGHLY suggest that you get to my house as soon as you can," he said flatly.

"Is something wrong? Did anything hap—"

Ken hung up.

He was not looking forward to their meeting.

* * *

Amelta pulled into the driveway. Ken's sudden call concerned her. The first thing she thought was there was a problem with one of his tenants. Maybe one of them got hurt, or was ill, or something of that nature. She wouldn't know until she talked with him, but she recalled that he didn't seem too happy.

She got out of her minivan, and knocked on the door.

Cassandra greeted her. Amelta put on her best face.

Cassandra didn't. She looked stern, and didn't seem pleased to deal with her.

"This way," she said, leading Amelta up the stairs. When she hit the top, she saw Ken waiting for her at the dinner table. He looked up from his paperwork.

He definitely didn't look pleased.

"Have a seat," he stated flatly, gesturing to the chair across the table from him.

She sat down, not knowing what to do next.

They sat in silence for about a minute. Ken was looking blankly down at papers, drumming his fingers on the table. Cassandra was sitting on the sofa, away from the table.

A clock ticked audibly, and with every tick, every finger of Ken's that hit the table, Amelta knew the situation was worse than she had anticipated.

"So how do I explain this?" Ken asked. It was a question more to himself than to her.

"Well, maybe you should just say what you're thinking," she offered.

"Good idea," he said.

He was ticked. He wanted to scream at her, but this situation called for calm. He took a deep breath.

"What kind of person are you?"

Amelta knew what he was asking. He wasn't asking her about who she was or what kind of person she was in the 'good way.' Instead, he was asking who she was as a step to a worse question. But she didn't know how to answer. "I'm not sure I understand," was all she could muster.

"Since you're the handler for this area, let me ask you if you know Sasha Redford."

"Yes. She's living in this city. About twenty minutes from here, by car. There's only one—"

She was cut off when Ken held up his hand. "Yes, yes. I'm quite aware of that. Actually, she's in one of the back rooms as we speak."

"What is she doing here?"

"I brought her here. It was better than leaving her where she was. In good conscience, I couldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you been to that house or talked to Sasha since she arrived?"

"No. I've been busy. It's on my list of things to do."

Ken took another breath. "Thankfully, Alisa was able to get these photos off Cassandra's cell phone."

He found the pictures in a pile of paper, and handed them to her.

"What are these?" she asked, flipping through them.

"It's Sasha's room."

She looked up at Ken in disbelief. "You have to be joking."

"I really wish I was. Cassandra and I were there. Would you like to hear the tape of the confrontation we had with the landlord?"

That's when she noticed the tape recorder on the table. Ken reached over and pushed the 'Play' button.

More and more color drained from her face as she listened to the brief and telling encounter.

She was unable to say anything. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Are you completely incompetent!? She was treated like a slave! Instead of being a guest here, she was treated as hired help, and she wasn't even getting any money!"

So much for calm.

Ken shook his head, and then continued. "Someone was actually getting paid to treat her like that. I don't know what else went on there, but just from being forced to live in a closet, that's too much."

"I'm . . . sorry . . ."

Ken slammed his hands down on the table. "You shouldn't be saying that to me! You should be saying it to her!"

"Where . . . is she?"

"Cassandra, bring Sasha out here."

She stood up, and went into one of the back bedrooms. A few moments later, she returned with Sasha.

Amelta didn't know what to say, and she just breathed an "I'm . . . sorry."

Sasha didn't say anything.

"Now the question is," Ken said, "what happens next? I didn't do this to cause trouble."

"Well, that is a problem," Amelta said. "There were only a limited number of places tenants could stay at. All of them were taken."

Sasha looked down at the ground. "Then . . ."

If there were no houses left, there would be no place for her to stay. She obviously came into the program for a way to experience something new, something grand in a new world.

What she got was the opposite.

A question ran through Ken's mind. Was Earth the only place that these kinds of things happened? If his tenants were anything like Earthlings, that wouldn't be possible. In all the worlds out there, was there some place perfect, where bad things didn't happen to people like her? Like Ken?

Ken could only assume there was no place that was a paradise. Perhaps it was his forced view of realism over the years, but he came to the conclusion that the universe was more like Earth than anyone would have thought.

Along with his forced realism, the voice of his forced responsibility gave him an undeniable option to the poor woman's return to her planet.

"She . . . can stay here," Ken said.

Sasha and Amelta stared at him in shock.

"What's with the look? I did think about this, if only a little."

"But aren't all of your rooms full? Where are you going to put her?" Amelta asked.

"We'll figure that out. I can at least promise she won't be sleeping in a closet, or on a cot. I don't care if I have to crash on the sofa until we figure it out."

Sasha looked down and shook her head. "Maybe I should just . . . pull out of the program and return to my planet."

"That's one option," he said. "But, Sasha, what do you want to do?"

She looked at Amelta, then Cassandra—

Ken grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen, where neither could see her.

"I'll ask you again. What do you want to do?"

"I . . ."

"Sasha," he said, patting her head, "you have two choices: stay here or go home. Do you really want to go home?"

She pursed her lips. "I can't . . . go home. Telling my parents what happened . . . would break their hearts. They wanted something better for me here. I was supposed to do my best. But it turned out to be a nightmare." She looked down. "But I'm too scared to stay here."

"Do you think the same thing will happen here?"

She nodded, slowly.

"You don't have to worry about that. My tenants may be a bunch of oddballs, but they're harmless."

"Hey! We heard that!" Natalia shouted from behind them.

He turned around, and saw his tenants lined up near the entrance to the kitchen, heads only peeking around the corner.

He chuckled, and turned back to Sasha. "Well, mostly harmless."

"Where am I going to stay?" she asked.

"She can share my room," Alisa said. "It's big enough."

"We'll just have to find you a bed. Don't take that the wrong way. You'll just have to use my room for the time being."

"I . . . apologize for the inconvenience."

"Anybody else have any problems with adding a new tenant?"

"Nope!" said Katrina.

"None," Alisa said.

"No," Angelica said.

"A maid-like addition would give this place a touch more class. Of course, in addition to myself," Natalia said.

"See? If you can put up with Natalia, you can put up with anything."

"I've had just about enough of that!" Natalia yelled, grabbing Ken and putting him in a headlock.

"Hey, hey! What happened to classy!?"

Sasha then started to laugh. She laughed so hard she started to tear up.

Ken painfully looked her at her. "I'm glad you find this funny . . ."

Natalia let him go.

Ken rubbed his neck, then glared at Natalia. "You're stronger than you look."

Alisa bent down to him. "You know, I could add another room or two to the house."

"No more manipulating the reality of my house with your twisted technological contraptions!"

"Pity," Alisa frowned.

"Pity!? Why is it a pity if I don't want my house sucked into a black hole when reality collapses in on itself!?"

"I guess . . . the, um . . . last question . . ." Sasha started to say.

"Yes?"

"What does your wife think of this?"

"She's not my wife!"

They looked over to Cassandra.

"No problem at all. Just so long as you don't cheat on me, dear."

Ken put his hands to his head and screamed in frustration.

* * *

Ken escorted Amelta to her minivan.

"I think she'll be in good hands," Amelta said.

"I think so, too," Ken agreed.

"I . . . really messed up here. I am . . . really sorry."

"I already told you, I'm not the one you should be feeling sorry for. I just reacted like I normally do. Though I admit I don't have much delicacy when it comes to things like this."

"As much as I don't want to believe it, this was my wake-up call. I've got to take my job a lot more seriously. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to have to make my rounds." She chuckled to herself. "Despite how much I messed this up and have to live with it, there is one good thing that came about it."

"How's that?"

"I know you'll take good care of the girls here, and protect them from being mistreated."

"Amelta, besides being angry that she was being mistreated, do you know the other reason that I was mad?"

"No. Why is that?"

"It's because I couldn't stand the fact that she might walk away from this planet, thinking that Earthlings are all the same. Granted, there are bad people on this planet, just like any other planet, right?"

"Yes."

"I'd feel bad without at least somehow showing what she would be missing if she walked away."

Amelta looked up at him and tilted her head. "You really are an amazing person. I'm glad you're there to be a positive influence."

"Positive influence?"

She nodded.

"How so? I mean, I may not be the best person they should be learning from."

She shook her head and gave him a smile to let him know he was wrong. "There are few people in this world as valuable as those who will put themselves on the line for someone else. It's just my personal opinion, but I think that's the best thing those from other planets can learn from those on Earth."

"Wait. Don't people on other planets do things like that?"

She nodded. "They do, but you have to understand something. Right now, Earth is still relatively unknown in the Republic. It may be a little rude, but your little planet is in the middle of nowhere. Think the 'countryside' of the universe. Therefore, there are already preconceptions of how Earthlings act."

"I'd like to argue over fact, but maybe it's because I'm biased . . . being an Earthling and all."

"I understand how you feel. Otherworlders aren't always the open-minded, advanced people you may think they are." She leaned against her minivan and looked up at the sky. "I've experienced some Earth fiction about the future, and most visions of an interstellar utopia couldn't be farther from the truth. Wouldn't you call that a preconception as well?"

"Sorry, but I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to get at."

"Your tenants may know about how the universe works, but they've had relatively little experience with other worlds. The Entine Republic realizes this, and thus the need for this program."

"How does this relate to the 'countryside of the universe'?"

"Sorry, Mister Goldwrite, I'm a bit scatterbrained and get off track a lot. What I'm trying to get at is that if you're shown something new and unfamiliar, such as a situation, once you find out it's not different than something you've done before, you become more comfortable with it, and it eventually becomes as normal and familiar as anything else in your life, regardless of how foreign it was in the beginning."

"So, you're talking about them getting used to me?"

Amelta smiled. "The program is a two-way street. In the case of your girls, what you've done today has undoubtedly had a powerful effect on them. Once they've seen how the virtues of an Earthling coincide with the virtues of their own planets, they'll be more comfortable here."

"I didn't really mean to. That's just how I am."

"And that's why you'll be a positive influence. I think they've come to respect you now."

Ken looked at the ground, thinking about the opposite of what could happen. "Then . . . what am I supposed to do when the bad things that happen are the same as on their own planets?"

"Let's not think about that. Try and do your best."

"I will certainly try."

"Until next time, Mister Goldwrite."

## Chapter Seven

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Phoning Home!

The next morning, Sasha was up earlier than anyone. She had slept in a real bed, and she was thankful. Ken had volunteered his room for her, and he took a sofa in the living room.

She was doing her best to put her experiences at the previous landlord behind her, and compared to there, the new house was a paradise. There were five tenants other than her, and even though the house was filled, the offer from Kenaeth Goldwrite to stay was something that comforted her. She wouldn't have to go home and explain to her parents that she was mistreated. Putting her parents at ease was the most important thing for her.

She got dressed in her uniform, made Ken's bed, and went into the living room. He was lying on his side on the couch, and Katrina sleeping on top of the cabinet, mumbling in her sleep.

". . . can't eat . . . any more . . . hello . . . giant . . . strawberry . . ."

Sasha giggled, then turned back to look at Ken.

It was strange. Considering how she lived in the previous house, she felt a little pang of regret for making him take the sofa. After all, wasn't it his house? He didn't have to do it, yet he did. With this, her opinion of Earthlings had completely been turned one-hundred and eighty degrees.

Her next question was what she was going to do with herself at the new house? She was what Earthlings called a 'maid,' and her skills included cooking, cleaning and minor repair tasks. She had done that at the previous house. With seven total people in the house, she would probably have much to do.

Ken opened his eyes and saw Sasha standing in the living room.

"Good morning," she said.

Ken sat up quickly. "Morning. You didn't need to get up so early. That's usually my job."

"Koririans don't need much sleep."

"Must be nice. How much?"

"Four hours, five at the most. Any more and I get light-headed."

"You don't need to wear that maid costume all the time."

"It's my uniform. I . . . didn't bring any other outfits with me."

Ken felt a little sad about that. "I'd try and dig through some of my sister's old clothes, but you're more petite than she ever was. Maybe we'll have to get you some new clothes."

"It's okay. I have three sets of these. They may look the same, but they're as good a set of clothes as any."

"I see. I won't argue."

"So, what am I to do?"

"If you wouldn't mind making coffee and getting the other tenants up in about an hour, that would be great. After I get washed up, I'm going to work outside."

Ken did his outdoor work, and an hour later came back into the house. The tenants were up and around in time for breakfast.

Sasha took the initiative and cooked . . . for an army. And it was extremely good. There would be plenty of leftovers.

Silver walked up the stairs. "Well now, something smells good."

"Sasha cooked today," Ken said with a mouthful of food.

"So that's why it smells better than the usual slop around here."

"Nobody asked for your opinion!"

* * *

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Ken asked.

Silver was walking a number of steps ahead. They were headed into the middle of the back yard.

"Because it's necessary, so that things don't go horribly wrong."

"I don't get it. I'm still not convinced you have my best interests at heart."

Silver laughed. "Regardless of how it may appear, I do have your best interests in mind. I have a stake, so to speak, in helping you out."

"What did you mean by helping you out, so you're helping me out?"

"At some point in your future, you will help me out, so I have come back to assist you. If I don't, then you won't be able to help me. So I do have an interest in making sure you learn what I'm about to teach you."

"Why do you need to teach me? You said something about 'protecting' my tenants?"

"Yes. 'They' will be coming soon, because we've both been to the Library. They want the Library, Ken. If someone is altruistic and had access to the Library, there would be no problem. But if a selfish individual was somehow let in there, and had was able to use the knowledge for whatever they wanted, we can both agree that would be a very bad idea.

"You see, humans are weak. In the interest of their own survival and selfishness, they will throw away their own responsibilities."

Ken rolled his eyes. "It sounds like you're talking about my sister."

"It goes far beyond your sister. We're talking about those who desire a shortcut, and not doing the work on their own. Those that feel if someone else has something and they don't, the 'haves' should be forced to give up most or all of what they have worked for to the 'have nots'."

"And what do these people you are talking about want with the Library?"

"You'll see soon enough. Now, let's start, shall we?"

Silver was silent for a moment, and tapped his staff on the ground. Ken was expecting the scenery to turn blue like when Silver stopped time during his first appearance, but instead things were blurry for a moment like focusing a camera lens, and then quickly cleared up.

"Huh? What happened here? Weren't you going to stop time or something?"

"It's easier this way, since stopping time takes a lot of concentration. You see, I've made it so that we're slightly out of phase with the rest of the world. Anything we do here won't be noticed by anyone, and won't affect them."

"So, what am I supposed to be learning?"

"Let's start with 'calculating.' I could start with explaining the facets of space-time, but it won't change how you'll be able to use it. Let's just say that most of what you can imagine, you can do."

"Imagination, huh? That's kind of—when did you start floating in mid air!?"

Silver was hovering about two feet in the air, legs crossed, as if he was sitting in a chair. "Since we started this conversation."

Ken frowned at his lack of perception.

Silver continued. "Now, the most important thing for manipulating space-time is 'calculating'."

"Wouldn't it be better to tell me about how space-time works, and all that?"

"At a later time. We'll just jump right in. Where was I?"

"Calculating."

"Oh, yes. It means calculating the way in which you manipulate space-time. Some people are predisposed to it, like you. So how do you put it to use? You need to turn it into a form that you can use. In other words, crafting reality so that it becomes what you want. That, in essence, is calculating.

"I thought you weren't going to explain space-time."

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

"You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

"How can I, when a guy, floating in mid-air, says that I can mess with reality?"

"Just run with it, all right? You're going to need a focus, so . . . Say, could you go get that pipe you have behind the door?"

Ken glared at him. "How did you know I have one there?"

"I know my way around here."

Ken fetched the pipe he used during his embarrassing face-off with Cassandra, and brought it back.

"What was that word you used earlier?" Ken asked.

"Focus? It helps you draw in space-time. You can do it without one, but this makes it easier. You know how a lightning rod attracts a bolt of lightning? Sort of like that."

"Um, couldn't you pick a better example? Getting hit with a bolt of lightning isn't on my list of things to do before I die."

"I'm just giving you an example. You can manipulate space-time without a focus, but it's a little harder."

Ken held the pipe up.

"Now we're going to start calculating. You're going to imagine a clear sphere. Inside it are a number of small dots of white light that are bouncing off the interior of the sphere, always in constant motion. This image represents your access to space-time, or rather, how much access you have. This is the easiest way for your mind to interpret space-time manipulation."

"Okay . . ."

"Close you eyes and just imagine it. You can't 'let' your imagination create it; you have to take a direct hand in making it in your mind's eye."

And Ken did. He closed his eyes, focused, and it was surprisingly easy for him to imagine: crafting the sphere, and populating it with dots of light.

Eyes still closed, he asked, "Now what do I do with it?"

"Here's the tricky part. You need to keep that image in your head, and then consider how you are going to project it. It's going to be like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time."

Ken opened his eyes, with the image of the sphere in his head. His vision was a little hazy, but he was trying hard to avoid losing the image.

"I want you to 'think' about floating, since as soon as you get that down, flying is a piece of cake."

"I don't know how to float."

"Just imagine it. Your brain will take care of the rest."

"Huh?"

"Just do it."

He thought about the image of floating, his body about a foot off the ground. And something strange happened to the sphere image. A few of the white dots had turned blue.

"Huh? The dots just changed."

"Now mentally grab each of those dots that just changed and pull them out of the sphere. It doesn't matter where to, just as long as they are held on the outside of the sphere."

He focused on the blue dots, and slowly pulled them out, one at a time, and 'held' them on the outside of the sphere.

Before he knew it, Ken no longer 'felt' the ground. He looked down and was so surprised, he lost concentration, the image of the sphere disappeared and he fell to the ground, landing on his duff.

Silver – no longer floating – walked over and offered his hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. Then he got a surprised look on his face. "I was flying!"

"Floating."

"Semantics!"

Silver shrugged.

Ken was scared . . . and surprised . . . and concerned. "How is that possible? I mean, flying?"

"Floating."

Ken had to resist the urge to slug Silver as he got up. "Is this real? Everything else you said?"

Silver gave him a big grin.

A grin that Ken didn't trust, but felt he had to continue. "What's the next step?"

"I want you to speed up when you calculate."

* * *

"It took a little time, but here it is," Amelta announced, opening up the box in the middle of the living room.

She had a surprise for the tenants. She'd brought the mysterious box with her, and had put it in the middle of the room after they had completed the transfer of Sasha's contract. Sasha had become a full-fledged member of the household.

"What is it?" Ken asked.

"It's an Intergalactic Communication Device."

"It looks like a phone with a screen."

"It is."

"This 'space phone' isn't going to cost anything, right? I would imagine the long-distance bill alone would bankrupt a small country."

"The Entine satellite is taking care of that, so there's no charge right now. Besides, this is one of the test runs to see if these actually work from Earth."

"Who are we going to be calling?"

"I'm sure the girls haven't talked to their parents since they arrived, so this will be a great opportunity. Unless you have someone you'd like to call?"

"I lost Mork's phone number, so I'll pass."

* * *

Angelica was first. Ken set up a small stand in the middle of the room across from the couch, and after Angelica sat down, Amelta pointed the 'space phone' towards them.

"This has a camera attached to it, and will project the feed to the recipient. There will also be a large projection right next to the phone, showing the other party."

Ken stood off to the side, and Amelta gave him a confused look. "What are you doing?" she asked. "The parents will want to see who the landlord is."

Ken sheepishly nodded in agreement, and he sat on the couch next to Angelica. Amelta pressed a number of buttons after referencing a piece of paper.

"Ready?" she asked.

"I don't know any of my tenants' languages."

"Don't worry. They will take care of translating."

She hit a green button and Ken heard something like a dial tone, and a string of different beeps.

It really was a space phone.

A feminine voice was heard, speaking a language Ken didn't understand. Angelica immediately spoke up and started talking. After a moment, a holographic image appeared next to the phone, of a brightly dressed woman with wings, who looked like an older version of Angelica.

Ken leaned over to Angelica. "Is that your older sister?"

"Older sister?" She started giggling, and told the woman on the other end. The woman blushed, and laughed. "She's my mother."

Angelica gestured to Ken, and he could have sworn he heard a vaguely stylized version of his name in the conversation.

It would have been nice to understand them.

Then Ken got an idea. He remembered what Silver had told him earlier: "Most of what you can imagine, you can do."

He closed his eyes, imagined the sphere and dots, and calculated, in order to understand them. He really didn't think it would work.

But sure enough, he was able to listen into the conversation.

"—seems okay, but I'm looking forward to driving an Earth automobile. It should be different than one of ours," Angelica clearly said.

He did notice a slight echo to her voice, and guessed it was a side-effect of being able to understand them.

"So, let me fully introduce Mister Goldwrite to you. Or maybe I should let him do that."

However he did it, he avoided speaking in their language, and only in his own.

"Hello. I'm Kenaeth Adam Goldwrite."

Angelic would continue to interpret for him, even thought he knew exactly what she was saying.

"I know you may be worried, but she'll be in good hands. There are many people she can depend on here. And I'm harmless . . . well . . . mostly harmless."

Angelica's mother smiled. "Then I leave her in your hands. I will be in touch."

"Bye, mom."

"Bye, dear child of mine."

The image disappeared.

"Older sister?" Angelica mused. "Ken, you're such a schmi . . . schme . . . What is the word?"

"Schmooze," Amelta answered. "And I have to agree."

* * *

Alisa was second. In the same way as Angelica's call, Amelta dialed her home.

A male voice answered, and Alisa started speaking flatly. A moment later, the projection appeared. Ken quickly calculated again to understand them.

There were three people on the screen: a mature man, a mature woman, and a young man.

"Hello, mom, dad, Avey."

Ken was taken aback with the flat tone. The young man seemed more animated than her.

The man spoke up. "Hi, Alisa. How are you feeling? Everything okay?"

"Oh, fine. Wanting to let you know how things are going. Before I continue, this is my landlord, Kenaeth Goldwrite." She switched to English. "Ken, please introduce yourself."

About the only thing he could think of to say was the same he had told Angelica's mother.

"I know you may be worried, but she'll be in good hands. There are many people she can depend on here. And I'm harmless. Well, mostly harmless."

Ken smiled, but it was a half-hearted smile. He suddenly didn't feel right for some reason. It felt a lot like irritation.

The rest of Alisa's conversations were about her college classes, some electrical frameworks, and asking them to send her a 'hydro-spanner,' whatever that was. There was even a side conversation about the spatial enhancer to increase the size of her room . . . and Ken's reaction. That caused the young man, Avey, to roll on the floor with laughter. So much for being 'quieter' than she was.

Ken played dumb and she didn't explain. He would have to interrogate her thoroughly when he had the opportunity.

And before he knew it, she was done.

* * *

Natalia was third. She seemed apprehensive about it, but Ken didn't know if it was because of the phone call, or just sitting next to him. If it was the latter, the feeling was mutual.

The screen immediately came on. A stern man with chiseled features was sitting behind a desk. "I've been expecting your call," he said. "I am thankful that Amelta contacted me ahead of time so I could schedule this between meetings."

"Hello, father," Natalia said.

They were speaking English, surprisingly.

"And how are you adjusting?" he asked his daughter.

"It's far more rustic than I had expected. It's almost as if I'm roughing it. However, the atmosphere is pleasant."

"Have you attended any of the social committees yet?"

"Just two so far. I do have some contact information. They'll be providing more details about their companies and channels soon, so I'll forward it all to you then."

"Excellent. Keep me informed. I'm counting on you to create more contacts for me."

"That was part of the plan."

"And you haven't introduced your landlord yet."

Natalia gestured to Ken, then to her father. He took that as his cue.

"My name is Kenaeth Goldwrite. Nice to meet you, sir."

"You seem like a responsible man, so I will entrust the care of my daughter to you. She does have an abrasive personality at times, so I would ask for your patience."

"I will try. But I must say I am surprised you are speaking English."

"I have a hobby, if you can call it that, of learning back-water languages. It will also help in distribution agreements."

Ken nodded in acknowledgment. He was perturbed about the 'back-water' comment, regardless of how Earth seemed on their end.

"If you need anything, please direct it to my secretary. She will get in touch with me and I will try to address the issue. Natalia, best of luck."

"Thank you, father," she replied.

The screen disappeared, and Ken could feel her relax. Her father appeared to be very businesslike and professional . . . even to his own daughter. He didn't think there was any difference in her father's speech to either of them, acting like they were both strangers.

She got up without another word, and went down the stairs to her room.

* * *

Cassandra was next. She took up the position next to Ken, and Amelta dialed.

A male voice was heard, and Cassandra started speaking. Ken calculated and was able to understand them.

"Just a moment, Cassandra," the man said.

The screen appeared, and on a couch were sitting a slim man dressed in pants and a button-up shirt, and a woman dressed in slacks and a blouse, who Ken thought was absolutely stunning.

"Hi, mom, dad. I'm still alive."

"Yes, we can see that," her mother said. "I take it this is the landlord where you're living?"

"Yes. I'll let him introduce himself." She switched back to English. "Go head. Introduce yourself."

"Hello. My name is Kenaeth Goldwrite. I know you may be worried, but rest assured she is in good hands, and has many people she can count on here."

"Thank you, Mister Goldwrite." She paused for a moment, and then went on. "Say, Cassandra."

"Yes, mom?"

"Is he married?"

"Mother!"

"He seems respectable enough. Maybe you should ask him out. After all, your father and I—"

Cassandra's father coughed, and her mother stopped. Still looking forward, he said "Don't embarrass my daughter in front of her landlord, even if he can't understand."

If he only knew how mistaken he was. Ken was listening to every word.

"Yes, dear," her mother said, defeated.

They conversed for a few minutes about food, living quarters, and the college classes she was attending.

They said their goodbyes, and the screen disappeared.

Ken played dumb. "Hey, Cassandra."

"Yes?"

"What was that outburst about?"

"Oh, um . . . nothing."

He prodded again. "It sounded really, I don't know, embarrassing."

"Nothing!"

"But—"

"NOTHING!" she yelled back at him and stormed off to her room.

Thinking back on it, Ken regretted antagonizing the woman who had a bladed weapon and knew how to use it.

* * *

Next to last was Sasha. She was worried about calling her parents, especially with the turn of events in the last few days. Ken assured her it would work out, and if there was an issue, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

They dialed in, and a female voice answered. Sasha started speaking, and Ken prepared himself to 'listen in.'

"Hi, mom. How are you?"

"My dear, Sasha! How are you adjusting?"

A mature woman was shown on the projection.

"Is dad there, too?"

"He had some work to do at the office. He'll be disappointed that he missed your call. Who is the man sitting next to you?"

"This is my landlord, Kenaeth Goldwrite."

The woman's face narrowed with concern. "I thought you were staying at the residence of a woman?"

Sasha paused. She remembered that Ken had told her to say there was a last minute change if that kind of question came up.

"There was a . . . last minute change. There was an issue, so I moved here."

"Are you the only tenant there?"

"No, no. There are five other women."

"My goodness!"

"But they all seem nice."

"That's good."

They talked for a little while about the family, and the neighbors.

"I miss you and dad."

"We miss you, too, honey. And, Mister Goldwrite?"

Sasha translated for him.

"Um, yes?"

"Please do your best to take care of our little girl. She's a bit fragile, and we worry an awful lot about her."

Ken mentally noted that she was right to have worried about her daughter. If she knew the truth, it wouldn't have been comfortable to see.

"I will do my best. She has a number of people she can count on. She's a good girl."

"Thank you, Mister Goldwrite."

"Bye, mom."

"Bye, Sasha."

The screen disappeared, and Sasha sighed.

"I . . . don't really like having lied to my mom."

"It wasn't a lie, actually. There was a last minute change, and there was an issue. Don't worry. I understand where you're coming from, but let's look at it another way. How would she have reacted if we gave her the whole story?"

Sasha looked down. "Not well."

"You can give them the whole story eventually. Right now, it's not the best thing for them. You're safe, and I think that is what they needed to hear more than anything else."

* * *

Last up was Katrina. While the rest of the tenants coincidentally had planets with a daytime pattern roughly equal to Earth's, Betlin's day would be the equivalent of the middle of the night on Earth. Midnight, to be exact. Their only choice was to stay up late to place the call through. Katrina was excited – even more than usual – to talk to her parents.

It was far past both their bed times, so Ken made some coffee to keep awake. He would definitely be regretting it in the morning.

Everyone else was asleep. Ken entered the numbers as Amelta had instructed him, and soon a female voice came on.

Katrina started talking fast, and the projection appeared. She continued to talk fast, and the woman who looked like an older Katrina was replying just as fast. It sounded like two animated chipmunks talking. Then he remembered about the calculation, and did so to understand them.

As soon as he did, the conversation came to a dead stop.

Katrina was staring at him, matching the stare from her mother on the screen.

Uh-oh.

Katrina blinked a few times. "Ken, you can manipulate space-time?"

"Mister Goldwrite," her mother stated, not asking.

"Um . . . yes?"

Katrina blinked several more times. "Ken? You can speak Betlinese?"

Katrina's mother chuckled. "Not entirely, Katrina. You see, he just calculated the ability to understand and speak Beltinese."

Katrina tilted her head. "Really, Ken? You never told me you were a time manipulator."

"No, but I was taught a few tricks recently."

Her mother smiled. "To think Katrina would run into a manipulator there," her mother remarked.

Ken shook his head. "I'm not a manipulator. I can barely float."

It was Katrina's mother's turn to shake her head. "If you can calculate space-time, you're a manipulator."

"Really?"

"Yes. And speaking of which, have you told anyone else you can do that?"

"You mean about being able to do things with space-time?"

"Yes."

"No. I guess the only ones right now who know are you, Katrina and Silver."

"Who's Silver?"

"The man who taught me these tricks."

"Is he an Indexer? A Cataloguer?"

"I think he said he was a Coordinator."

"Hmmm. Be careful, okay, Mister Goldwrite? I guess if you're a manipulator, I guess I can let you in on some information."

"Like what?"

"I don't know if she may have let it slip, but Katrina is a Cataloguer just like me. However, her goal is not to 'measure time' on your planet, but rather to track chronological phenomena there."

"Chronological . . . what?"

"Problems in space-time. There have been reports of space-time activity on Earth for some time, but it was only recently that it was thought to be an issue. We needed some more data, and so sent Katrina."

"Are we in any danger?"

"It's unknown right now. But be on your guard. Mister Goldwrite, I'd be careful of that 'Silver' person. I don't believe I've heard of any other manipulators being sent there, at least from our organization. He may be from a different group."

And that made Ken think. Who was Silver? What did he want? What were the specifics of why he was there? Ken didn't have a reason not to trust Katrina's mother, and Silver hadn't given Ken much reason to trust him; just some vague details.

"Understood."

The conversation between Katrina and her mother went into family items. When it was time to end the call, Katrina and her mother said their goodbyes.

* * *

Ken hadn't been able to sleep so he had whatever coffee was left. Granted, if one wanted to get to sleep, imbibing caffeine wouldn't help matters. He was sitting in the living room, reflecting on the calls his tenants made to their families. Katrina had gone to sleep right after her call was finished.

They all seemed to have healthy families, and being away from them was definitely hard on everyone, not just the girls.

The relationship between Natalia and her father bugged him. She didn't seem like she wanted to talk with him, and their words to each other seemed overly formal. Ken thought that most people who were rich had it easy, and nothing would get them down. Shouldn't they be the happiest people in the world, or rather, the universe? That didn't seem to be the case with the both of them.

Ken started to feel that mysterious irritation resurface, and shook his head to think of something else, but came back to the calls.

Katrina's mother was a time manipulator, and apparently a good one. She knew what Ken had done, even through the phone, and gave him a frightening piece of advice: to be careful of Silver. It wasn't as if he wasn't careful already, but her mother's words didn't ease his concerns. She knew what Silver was, and there weren't any other manipulators on the planet that she knew about. It begged the question: what were Silver's motives? He was intent on teaching Ken manipulation, to 'protect them,' but that was about as far as he went. The questions kept piling up each day – not just about Silver, but about his tenants as well.

Ken bit his bottom lip. The irritation was coming back. He took a sip of coffee when he heard someone call out to him.

"Ken?"

He looked up and saw Katrina float down from the top of the cabinet.

"You should be asleep," he said.

"I might tell you the same," she said, landing on the coffee table. She walked to the edge closest to him, and sat down, dangling her legs over the side. She looked like she had something to say, but was having a hard time getting the words out.

"Something wrong?" Ken asked her.

"A little. I just wanted to say, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What for? You didn't to anything, did you?"

"Maybe we all did, indirectly. You may not have noticed it during the calls, but I did. I may be small and not very bright, but Cataloguers are supposed to notice little things."

"Like the doll in Matilda's shop?"

"Yeah. But, this has to do with you. You see . . . how do I explain it without sounding mean?"

"Katrina, I developed a thick skin over the years. If you need to explain it, go ahead."

"Okay. I feel sorry about everyone talking to their families. You seemed to get . . . agitated whenever they were talking. No one else may have noticed, but I did. So, I'm sorry."

Thanks to Katrina, Ken was finally able to pin down the cause of the irritation. It wasn't his tenant's fault, but it was the talk of families.

It must have been jealousy.

They had surviving parents, as well as good relationships with them. In other words, the complete opposite of Ken. He sighed, embarrassed by the fact he had let that much of him show through.

"It's okay Katrina. Some things you just have to deal with." He extended his hand and patted her on the head with his index finger. "You're a real nice girl."

She meowed in response.

* * *

Early the next day – Saturday – Cassandra and Alisa went to the local shopping mall to meet Jill, Guy and Nellie.

The theater wasn't as different as Cassandra had been to on her own planet. The main difference was the food called 'popcorn.' Alisa didn't seem to care for it much, but Cassandra bought a whole bucket for herself after she took a taste of Nellie's.

The five of them spent almost ten hours watching through all three movies. Half-hour breaks were held between each movie.

Star Doors was a space opera, and just as Guy had said, science fiction, but had mystical powers with some sort of necessity for melee combat. She had confidence that if she was in the movie, she could have beaten the son, father and the Imperial leader in melee combat . . . all at once.

But for what the movies were, they were entertaining: the triumph of good over evil, of freedom over oppression.

She'd noticed something about Alisa during the movies. Alisa wasn't watching the movie so much as she was looking up at the screen, and then writing in a notebook. Cassandra was tempted to ask her what she was taking notes on, but reminded herself that Alisa was Alisa, and decided to skip it in favor of watching the rest of the movie.

At the end of the films, Guy, Jill and Nellie bid farewell to Cassandra and Alisa, and the trio left, planning to meet back at college the following week.

On the drive home, Alisa was reading through her notebook.

Curiosity finally gripped Cassandra and wouldn't let go. "What kind of notes were you taking? It seemed like you were barely watching the movies at all."

"They're notes and schematics to make a 'beamsaber'."

"'Beamsaber'? You mean like the ones they were swinging around in the movies?"

"Correct."

"Can you make one with Earth's current technology?"

"It's possible. It may require a small fusion generator."

"Wait. Didn't Ken tell you not to make anything weird like that without telling him?"

"I wasn't planning on telling him."

Cassandra's mouth dropped open. "You know, for such a quiet girl, you're frighteningly sneaky."

No response came, but Cassandra could have sworn Alisa grinned.

## Chapter Eight

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of More Training!

"Have you been practicing since last time?"

Ken and Silver were outside again, under the out-of-phase-with-the-rest-of-the-world 'curtain.'

"I've been trying, when I have the time. It's a lot easier since you taught me this 'phasing' thing. Otherwise, I would have attracted a lot of attention floating around."

"True. Very true," Silver said, nodding.

Ken thought back to his conversation with Katrina's mother. "Who are you really?"

"I already told you."

"Well, I was talking with Katrina's mother. Since you're from the future and all, you know her, right?"

"Yes. I have met her in the future. But she wouldn't know of me right now."

"That's convenient."

"I wish I could go into more, but there is a bigger picture here.

"A big picture, huh?"

"Yes, to make things go smoothly. Or a little more smoothly."

"That's something that's been bugging me. You keep telling me I need to work with you, when you don't even tell me what's supposed to happen."

"It'll happen whether you know about it or not."

"Give me something to work with here!"

Silver scratched his head. "Okay."

They moved up to the deck. "What if I told you those girls, and a few others, would be the most important people you will ever have in your life?"

"I'd say you're crazy."

"Even if I was, it wouldn't change the fact they will become just as I said. More than you could possibly imagine. I'm here to make sure they stay safe, with your help. You wanted me to make sure of that."

"You mean I sent you back in time!?"

"There's no sending involved, since you and I are able to do it on our own. Every time I come back, there are small alterations in the timeline. I'm here to correct any other issues."

"Somehow I don't think going back in time is legal. Or is it?"

"In the most extreme of cases, it's permitted. Some also have carte blanche to go back through time for minor missions. But just going back in time for no reason? You are correct in assuming it's not 'legal,' as you put it. Especially for one's sole benefit."

"Like trying to get lottery numbers?"

"Like trying to get lottery numbers," Silver affirmed.

"I'm still not convinced your intentions are good."

"Even though you were flying a few days ago?"

"I thought that was floating."

"Same difference."

"Then prove it. Prove to me that what you're going to teach me is necessary, that you can go through time."

"Are you sure about this? I . . . have a way, but you're not going to like it," Silver said, gravely.

"I can handle it."

Silver shrugged in defeat. He put his left hand on Ken's right shoulder, and a circle of light appeared on the ground beneath their feet. The world around them fluctuated and pulsated, like blood rushing through an artery. It eventually slowed to a stop, and the circle below them disappeared.

"We're here."

"Where are we? When are we?"

They weren't on the deck of Ken's house. It was someplace completely different, but somehow familiar. They were standing on the sidewalk along a street dotted with houses.

Ken looked around and he finally remembered. It was his family's first house after they had moved to the state he lived in now. It was when he was younger, a few years before his sister was born.

He laughed in surprise. "My old neighborhood! I barely remember this place."

Silver didn't say anything, and was just staring across the street at another house.

Ken looked in the same direction. "That's my old house! Wow! It looks just like it did back then."

From the right side of the house came a young boy, around six years old, with dark red hair. He was running and laughing.

"Is that me?" Ken remarked, tipped off by the boy's hair.

Chasing after him was someone, and she came into view. It was a girl around the boy's age, with blonde hair. She was laughing as well, yelling "I'm gonna getcha!"

"Not if I can help it!" the boy yelled back to her.

Ken froze, almost literally, as an icy feeling spread throughout his body. He recognized her.

He turned back around quickly and shut his eyes. "Take me back. NOW."

Ken felt Silver's hand on his shoulder again.

After a moment, they were back on Ken's deck. He staggered toward the railing, and rested against it. Once he got his breath back, he glared at Silver.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it," Silver stated with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Why there? Why not anywhere else!?"

"It was the best way to show you that I'm serious. Because there are people that are worth remembering . . . and those that are worth protecting."

Ken grabbed Silver by his shirt collar.

"Showing me that . . . going back there was uncalled for!"

Silver didn't flinch. "As I recall, you said you could handle it. That aside, you promised what happened to her wouldn't happen again, right? Not if you could help it."

Ken pushed Silver back, letting go of his collar.

Silver looked directly at Ken, then away. "They're going to do the same here, until they get what they want."

"That's another thing. Who are 'they'?"

"They are three former allies who want access to the Library for their own benefit."

"Doesn't the Library prevent that from happening!? Don't Peter and Nathan do anything to stop them?"

"Knowledge is neither good nor evil; it's just how you use it. Peter's job is simply to make sure visitors don't break the rules when accessing information. Believe it or not, there are checks and balances within the system."

"This doesn't make any sense!"

"I know."

"And why am I involved!?"

"Because they will make you get involved. The three have a leader, and he's duping them. They're not going to listen to me. The three of them will die, the girls will die, and you and I will die unless we do something."

"Why me? I have enough to worry about. How is this fair!?"

Silver shook his head. "It isn't fair. But there are some things we have to do, even if we don't want to do. Tell me, what would you like to have happen? Leave them be? I want to save them, because it's better than the alternative."

"What do I have to do?"

"You have to keep training."

* * *

"Remember how you took that power before and made yourself float? You will need to grab a little more, and focus it into some sort of projectile to launch. Something like a knife, or a ball."

Ken focused, drew upon the power, and imagined a ball in his hand. And there is was: a ball of energy.

Ken laughed. "Hey! I did it!"

"I wouldn't hold onto that creation of yours for too long. It's volatile."

"Huh?"

It exploded.

Ken was left singed.

"See?"

* * *

"How about a little . . . flying," Silver announced.

"You mean like before?" Ken asked, leaning up against his car.

"No. I mean real flying."

"Is that possible?"

"Of course it is. It just takes the right mind for it."

Ken stiffened up, estimating this would hurt . . . again.

Silver put his hand to his forehead. "Don't look at me like that."

"Yes, sir," went sarcasm from the head of the Goldwrite household.

"Start floating."

Ken closed his eyes and concentrated, calculating the space-time, and he felt himself leaving the ground, and stopped about a foot in the air. He kept the image in his mind, and opened his eyes, looking down at the ground, then at Silver.

"Now what?"

"It's simple. Go higher."

Ken concentrated again, building on what he had done earlier.

And he didn't budge at all. He couldn't seem to gather more space-time to propel him further. All he could mutter was a "Huh?" and try again and again with the same result.

Silver put his hand to his chin and thought out loud. "Hmm. Sometimes it takes a different way of thinking."

"Come again?" Ken asked, returning to the ground.

"I mean, to solve a problem, sometimes it takes a different way of going about it. Consider it like taking a different road to get where you're going. You still get to the same place, but the way is different."

"What do you suggest?"

"How about . . . wings?"

"Wings?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know how to make those."

"Well, trying using space-time to create some on your back. How about like Angelica's?"

"So I'm going to fly like a bird?"

"Just do it."

Ken rolled his eyes, but went with the suggestion. He created an image of himself in his mind, and then imagined white wings sprouting from his back.

He felt the effect almost instantly. Something – two things – were connected to his back around his shoulder blades. It was a very odd sensation, almost like he had sprouted two new arms.

"Not bad," Silver said, after a whistle.

Ken moved these new 'arms,' and the wings lightly flapped.

"They're real!"

"Well, they're real . . . in a sense."

Ken wasn't paying attention. He was too busy trying to crane his neck around to see his wings.

"You can admire them all day, or use them. Your choice. Just don't lose focus on them while you're flying. I'm sure you can guess what the result may be."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just do what you did before. Your mind may be a . . . little more clear now."

Ken calculated as he had before, and rose off the ground.

"Now, just flap those wings of yours, and take off!"

Ken thought it would be easier said than done, but there was nothing else to do but give it a shot. He felt his new limbs, and moved them.

Happily, they moved with his thoughts just like they were his real arms or legs. He went upward, moved forward, back, and came back down.

"Wow," was all Ken could breathe.

"That's not really flying, you know. How about you go around the town for real?"

"Can I really do that?"

"Of course. Remember, we may be phased out and can go through people, but solid objects need to be watched out for. Trees, telephone wires . . . oh, and watch out for airplanes. There is an airport near here. Oh, and if you go too high, the air gets thin."

Ken nodded, and took off again, going up several hundred feet. He looked down at the ground. It felt like one of those dreams where one actually does fly—never mind that in those dreams, Ken was actually falling and not flying.

He took off towards the middle of town. He reached it in no time at all, and landed on top of one of the buildings. He walked to the edge and looked down at the street, watching the cars go by, and people walking on the sidewalks. He felt that he was still 'phased out,' so there was no danger that anyone would see him.

He flew upward again, this time going farther north. He rose higher up, spun, dropped, turned—laughing all the while. He couldn't think of a time when he felt as exhilarated as he did at that point.

"It seems you're having fun," a familiar voice said from Ken's right.

Ken looked over and saw Silver flying as well. No wings, though.

"This . . . this is incredible!"

Silver smiled. "I knew you'd like it."

Ken laughed again, enjoying the feeling. The rush of the air, the look of the sky, the scenery below. . .

. . . the tree that was rapidly approaching him that he wouldn't be able to avoid.

"Ack!"

Pine needles hurt when one bursts through ten branches of them at fifty miles per hour.

* * *

Ken and Silver headed into the house through the back door. Cassandra was sitting on the sofa when they went into the living room.

"Just the lady I wanted to see!" Silver said.

Hearing the sound of sliding metal – Cassandra unsheathing her saber – made Silver jump to a corner, behind a chair.

"How long are you going to be mad about that birthmark!?" he yelled.

"What do you want?" she barked, sheathing her weapon.

"I need a favor."

Her reaction was nothing but a glare.

"It's not for me, it's for him!" he shouted, pointing to Ken.

"Oh, okay. What is it?"

"He needs combat training."

"Combat training? For what?"

"It's a long story," Ken said. "But, hey, it's a good way to get some exercise, right?"

"It can be. It moves the limbs, sharpens the mind, hones the reflexes. You might be a little old to start, but better late than never."

"Gee, thanks. A decrepit old man, am I?"

"I didn't mean it like that. The earlier you start swordplay, the better you become. That's so your body and mind recognize their relationship when it comes to combat."

Silver stood up from behind the chair. "I'm not really asking for him to be taught swordsmanship. I'm asking you to teach him combat in general."

"You're being vague."

"I know, but go with it, okay? It will be melee combat, of course, but he'll be using a blunt weapon."

Cassandra shrugged. "I guess I can do that. Our first encounter wasn't pretty, though."

Training with Cassandra? Melee combat? Did Silver really expect him to get good doing something that he had only seen in movies?

Ken thought back to the back yard many days prior, and the humiliating display of the pipe getting knocked out of his hands. He didn't want to repeat that.

Cassandra nodded, with a little bit of excitement in her eyes. "When do we start? If you want, we can do it in the morning after I do my warm-ups." She nodded again, and got an evil grin on her face. "It might be nice to get a sparring partner."

Then she started to laugh.

Ken joined Silver behind the chair, concerned for his life.

* * *

Try as he might, Ken couldn't get through her guard. Every step he made, she had a counter step. Every swing he made, she knocked away. He was thankful that she was using her saber sheathed.

He tried an overhead attack, but threw himself too much into it. Cassandra gracefully stepped aside, smacked him on the rear with her saber, making him do a not-so-graceful face-down tumble to the grass. His pipe landed a few feet away.

"Ow," he moaned.

"I didn't hit you that hard."

"That wasn't me whining. That was my pride," Ken commented, turning over and sitting up.

"Look on the bright side. At least you're holding your weapon right."

He nodded sarcastically. "You only had to knock it out of my hand three times before I got the hang of it."

"It's a good thing my mother isn't teaching you."

"Why's that?"

"Even your eyelashes would be bruised right now."

His eyes went wide with fear. "I never want to meet your mother in person!"

* * *

Breakfast was light. Ken was starting to feel the soreness in his muscles. It had been three days since he started his morning combat with Cassandra.

He could see she was delighted to have someone to face off against . . . or at least beat up. He was hoping she wasn't taking out any possible pent up resentment against her mother on him. Ken was in no way a masochist, and he hoped her family wasn't predisposed to sadism.

Ken was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. All the other tenants stepped lightly, so it could only have been Silver.

"How's the training going?" Silver inquired.

"It feels like I'm trying to wear my skin inside out."

"That bad?"

He glanced and saw Silver was smiling. "Wipe the feces-eating grin off your face."

Silver shrugged. "Really, is it that bad?"

"I don't think I have the talent for this. I feel like I'm in some sort of medieval movie with comedic overtones."

Silver shook his head. "You'll get the hang of it, and you'll become better than you will realize. I don't know if Cassandra told you, but training pays off when you're in the direst of situation. Do you think all of that swinging of your weapon is just for show? It's just like in martial arts. Your body eventually remembers, and you just have to put it to use when the time comes."

"You seem like you know a lot about this. You went through training, too?"

Silver nodded. "Cassandra trained me, too. Well, she will, or however you want to look at it."

"Tell me . . . how do I turn out?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"I'm not looking for specifics. Throw me a bone here."

"I can tell you that everything you have gone through, and will go through, will all be worth it. I'll tell you this, too: sometimes it will be very hard, and other times will feel like a dream."

"It doesn't seem so right now."

"That's always been your greatest weakness. You don't give yourself enough credit for being the person you are. You've changed a lot of people in your life. You just don't realize it."

Ken shook his head. There were a handful of people he could think of, but they weren't changed in the good way, and he regretted his actions toward them every day of his life.

"How about we do a little more training? It'll take your mind off of things."

"How will we do that?"

"Let's try some target practice."

* * *

"I always wonder about this phasing thing here. What happens if you blow something up in here?"

"You can't, actually. Due to the fluctuation and solidification here, inanimate objects can't be destroyed. I think."

"You think?"

"I've never seen anything that could chip away at anything here."

Ken tapped on his car with his hand. It still felt like metal, but was cold to the touch.

"For example," Silver said.

Ken turned and saw Silver collect a ball of energy into his right hand, and tossed it at Ken's house.

Before Ken could shout an objection, the ball exploded against the house. When the smoke cleared, there was no damage; not even a scratch or crack.

"See?" Silver pointed.

"Warn me before you do that, you twisted moron!"

* * *

"Do I always have to throw it?"

"No. When you don't have enough room to move, you can use a little bit of space-time to 'push' it out of your grasp. Think like a gun, or cannon."

Ken calculated, the ball appeared in his hand, and he held it forward. He kept that image in his head, then pulled some more space-time and 'repulsed' the ball away from him. It flew from his grasp and created a small explosion.

"Not bad," he could hear Silver comment.

Silver was some thirty paces away.

"What are you doing over there? Did I do something wrong again?"

"No. I just need to teach you something else."

"What's that?"

It was almost too quick to react.

Silver calculated and tossed an energy ball at Ken in one motion.

In a panic, Ken threw up his hands in a futile attempt to block the attack. He could only think about defending himself.

The ball exploded. Ken was expecting to be knocked back – a limb taken off at a minimum – but all he felt was a sting across his body, almost like one would feel when touching a pot that was too hot. He took stock of his limbs, found them all, and was relieved he was fine.

"What'd you do that for!?"

"So that you'd do just what you did."

There was a distinct blue 'haze' in front of Ken, and disappeared when the danger had passed.

"That was a 'dispersal field,' or what we just call a 'field' for short. It diverts some space-time energy away from you, making an effect lighter than it would have been."

In retaliation, Ken quickly tossed a ball at Silver. Instead of creating a field like Ken did, Silver used his staff to bat the ball away into the air. It exploded far away from them.

"You're getting faster. Splendid. Now try it again. This time, make it bigger."

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Silver asked Cassandra.

She was propped up against Ken's car, watching Ken swing his pipe as practice strikes. Silver took up a spot next to her.

"Stiff. An amateur. But that's what I expected. He's got no experience."

"Is he workable?"

"If you think he's going to be a master combatant by the end of the week, you need a miracle worker, not a trainer. And even then, I'm not a trainer . . . I've never trained anyone before."

"You'll do a fine job."

"How do you know? Can you see into the future?"

Silver just smiled.

"Creepy," she remarked.

"How about I give you a demonstration?" he said, walking toward Ken.

"Huh?"

"Hey, Ken!" Silver shouted.

Ken stopped and walked over to them.

"You're here early."

"Take a break. I need to make a demonstration, so watch closely."

Silver held out his hand for Ken's pipe.

Ken looked at his pipe, then at Silver. "Don't you have your own?"

"Yeah, but it will be more fun this way."

Ken shrugged, handed it over, and then sat on the front bumper of his car. Silver headed to the middle of the back yard. Cassandra followed, puzzled.

Silver stopped, and motioned for her to take a position opposite him. She eyed him quizzically as she took up a spot eight feet away from him.

Then he did something that surprised her. He took up a widened stance, left hand extended forward, and holding the pipe almost over his head above his right shoulder with his right hand, yet slightly to the side, pointed a little down and toward her.

"Falcon Stance. So how much Talsenian combat have you studied?"

"I'll use the old 'I'll tell you if you can beat me'."

Cassandra brandished her still-sheathed weapon half-heartedly. She guessed he was probably better than Ken, but wouldn't be much better.

The Falcon Stance was used for extended range combat. It used the tip of the weapon to inflict damage out of the range of other weapons. Traditionally, a long saber would be used. The pipe he was holding was about that length.

"Ready?" he said.

She gripped her blade.

Silver pivoted with his left foot with great speed, and thrust right for her head. She turned to the side, and knocked the pipe away. She was about to slash back, but he had already stepped back out of range. She stepped forward and swung from her right foot diagonally up to his head. He parried the attack, and then spun around for another thrust, which she avoided; she tried her own thrust, but he had moved aside.

She was slightly impressed. He knew how to hold a weapon, and knew how to swing. She knew he had been trained in melee combat. If they had been using real weapons, she might have been in trouble.

The Falcon Stance needed space to execute its attacks. Though it was considered flamboyant, there was no doubt that it was deadly. In any combat, a slash could take off a limb, but the target could survive as long as the head wasn't removed. How would one survive a thrust through the skull, heart, or stomach? The Falcon Stance was supposed to end things quickly. If she could just stay in very close range, she wouldn't have anything to worry about. That is, unless he changed stances. There would be no way he could know more—

Silver shifted his gait, bent over ever so slightly. The way he held the weapon was now different: he held the pipe with the longer end resting under his forearm.

Now it was the Hawk Stance.

He had to be more than he was letting on.

He stepped forward and slashed for her body. If she recalled his archaic stance correctly, the first strike wasn't intended to injure—

She parried the strike to her chest.

—it was to mask the turning follow-through.

She stepped back and barely avoided the slash to her midsection.

Cassandra decided to go on the offensive. She obviously didn't need to train Silver. She committed to a downward slash, but was parried. She whipped her sword down and tried once again. Silver wheeled his pipe from the ground upward to block the attack. She tried twice more, as did he. She did a last-ditch thrust, and it went right past his head. He quickly knocked her blade up and stepped back.

He pulled the pipe up, holding it over his right shoulder, and extended his left hand forward.

Cassandra bit her bottom lip. He had taken up yet another Talsenian sword fighting style, the Eagle Stance. All of the stances he had taken up were valid in combat, but old. She's studied them before, but few on Talsenian currently practiced them.

She stepped forward and slashed sideways across his chest. He brought the pipe down at an insane speed, knocking the tip of her blade to the ground. He pulled it back up just as fast, and she could have sworn it brushed against the very tip of her nose.

He brought it back down again; she whipped her weapon back up to parry, then back downward as she stepped back. He spun around, going down into a crouch and extending his arm with pipe up toward her head. She arched her neck back to avoid the attack that would have – in a real combat situation – punctured her skull, if she hadn't avoided it.

After the attack, he returned to the first posture of the stance and knocked her next attack down, much like the first time she had attacked when he adopted the Eagle Stance, and then they both hopped backward.

Silver held the pipe up like a normal weapon, both hands gripping the base.

"So," she said while taking up a similar stance, "you want to end this in one shot, huh?"

"That's the plan."

Cassandra focused and ran forward.

Silver did the same.

The two weapons were swung—

Both challengers ended up behind the other.

Silver dropped the pipe, sunk down to his knees, and then sat down on his rear. He rubbed his stomach. "Ow. That hurt, you know."

She walked over and pointed her weapon in his face. "I win. Tell me what you know."

Silver laughed in defeat. "I give. Before I tell you, could you tell me something?"

"What's that?"

"What happened to your shirt?"

"What?"

"Oh, that's where that birthmark is," she heard Ken shout.

She looked down. Half of her shirt was gone. Two of her friends were out in the open – and they weren't Silver and Ken.

She calmly covered herself with her right arm, and gave Silver a left hook.

* * *

"Spill it," she ordered.

If he did tell her, would she believe him? Ken sincerely didn't think most people really believed in time travelers, so why should she? Then again, Ken used to be a skeptic, and no longer was.

"I'm a time traveler," Silver said.

Ken's face faulted. "There's nothing like getting right to the point, is there?"

"Oh, really?" she remarked.

Neither Ken nor Silver knew if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

"Yes. A Time Coordinator. I've come back to help Ken out mainly, but to help everyone else here, too."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and then her expression softened.

"It's true, then. They do exist."

"Come again?" Ken said waving his arms around for emphasis. "Helloooo! This guy just said he's a time traveler! You're going to believe him just like that? Without any proof?"

"I remember reading some books on time and space as part of my physics studies at school. Some were by noted scientists, and some were by crackpots. One claimed there were several organizations that 'patrolled' time. The woman who wrote the book said she actually interviewed a time traveler, and he called himself a 'Time Coordinator.' In the interview, he talked vaguely about how space and time works, and how some people strive to keep the universe going, and others try to stop reality from working altogether. There weren't any specifics, just a lot of conjecture."

Silver nodded. "It was probably true. Was the author's name Tandra Clearance?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I'm pretty sure the one who she interviewed was me."

"Hold it!" Ken interjected. "Do time travelers normally give interviews!?"

"She had some interesting theories, and I needed to set her on the right track. I was a lot younger at the time, so I couldn't give her all the specifics, since I didn't really know them back then."

"I do have a question, though," Cassandra asked.

"Go ahead."

"Is it all right for you to be telling us this?"

"I already know," Ken said.

"Okay, fine. Is it all right for you to be telling me this?"

Silver grinned at her. "What are you going to do? Tell people, 'Hey! I know a time traveler!' They'd think you'd be a what?"

". . . a crackpot . . . " she breathed.

"Right. Just like you thought Miss Clearance was until a moment ago. It's the perfect alibi. I could tell you the complete truth, and no one would believe you."

"Are you part of an organization? I mean, are there other people like you on this planet?"

"Yes. In fact, there's another one in this very house."

He pointed to the top of the display case.

"Come on out, Katrina. I know you're listening."

Katrina sheepishly poked her head out from over the edge of the cabinet. "I didn't mean to hear everything. My headphones were off."

She floated down and landed on Ken's head.

Cassandra's face went blank. "Katrina's a time traveler, too?"

Katrina shook her head. "No. I don't have that kind of ability. I just track chronological phenomena."

"Is it bad out here or something?" Ken asked.

"I'm not sure. I was just assigned to keep tabs on this planet, just in case, since Earth is far away from any major space-time points. Many parts of the universe have those points, where space-time is the strongest. We Cataloguers like to call them 'ponds.' Sometimes when something disturbs it, there are ripples that spread out, kind of like when you drop a rock into a pond. Places close to those ponds tend to be affected more than planets like Earth. Those effects are called 'chronological phenomena.'

"There are no ponds in this area of the universe, so it's really weird when I see fluctuations."

"Would there be a reason for it?"

Katrina's made a face like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "This area, specifically Earth, is unique. There are no ponds around, but there are many different kinds of currents that flow through where Earth is situated. Kind of like a space-time crossroads. I'm still working on it."

Ken was impressed with the little lady on his head. Normally she had the bubbly personality, but she was rather smart when it came to space-time . . . and serious.

"I . . . I do have another question," Cassandra asked, shyly.

"Yes?"

"You . . . probably can't tell me a lot about it, but do I—"

"Cassandra, you turn out fine. I'll tell you that there are going to be some hard times coming. They won't be easy, and some will be downright dangerous. But it will all be worth it in the end."

"Dangerous!?" Cassandra, Katrina and Ken exclaimed simultaneously.

Ken remembered Silver saying that 'they would all die.' That was the danger he was talking about.

"Yes. But we have time to get everyone prepared."

"Is this why you asked me to start training Ken?"

Silver nodded.

"It's kind of hard to do this on faith alone."

"Sometimes faith is the best thing to go on."

* * *

Silver had returned to wherever his home was, and Ken, Cassandra and Katrina ate dinner with everyone else, but were a little more quiet than usual. It's not as if they didn't talk, but Alisa, Natalia and Sasha failed to notice the subtle change.

After the meal, Sasha loaded the dishes into the dish washer. Ken stepped into the kitchen.

"Sasha, I can take care of the rest. Why don't you get ready for that show . . . what was it again?"

"Twilife Zone?"

"Yeah. You and your creepy shows."

She laughed and left to, presumably, get changed. Ken had found some of his sister's clothes in the storage room, and seemed to fit her, though were about a size too big.

Ken heard someone come into the kitchen. He looked up and saw Cassandra.

"Yes?"

"What do you think?"

"Dunno. I think you'd look better in pink or powder blue."

"I appreciate the fashion tip, but that's not that I mean."

Ken put the last dish in the washer, closed the door, and hit the start button. He casually looked out in the living room to see no one.

"About Silver?"

"Yeah. Did you think about what he said?"

"Every day since he showed up."

"Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"I think he's got something there. He's been training me to manipulate space-time, so he seems to be the real deal."

"Did he give you any ideas about what's going to happen?"

He could tell her what Silver told him.

They're all going to die.

Yeah. That would go over well. He mentally twisted and burned that idea from his head.

"Not really," he lied.

"And you just went along with it?"

"Well, I learned how to fly. It's a start."

"You can fly? I've never seen you."

"I practice in private. I don't want to get shot down."

* * * * *

Ken was sitting on the sofa, reading a book.

He heard someone coming from the back bedrooms, and saw Alisa, looking at a piece of paper in hand as she walked.

"Just the person I wanted to see," she said.

"Problem?"

"I have an English question."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. The last English question he got wasn't exactly normal. Nonetheless, he gestured for her to continue. "Go on."

"I was talking with Katrina."

Uh-oh.

"And she couldn't give me a good answer about it."

Uh-oh.

"I've looked in several dictionaries and grammar guides, and still no answer."

Uh-oh.

Everything in Ken's body screamed for him to leave the room immediately. Run away. Forget the question and just go on with his life. He felt his very sanity might be at stake.

Against every instinct, he asked: "What is it?"

She looked at the paper in her hand, then at him.

"Who's 'buck'?"

Ken screamed in frustration, hoping it would somehow mitigate his loss of sanity.

## Chapter Nine

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Driving!

Ken, Alisa, Angelica, Cassandra and Sasha gathered in the driveway. Ken wasn't going to be able to chauffer his tenants all the time, so they needed to get around on their own. The best way would be to learn how to drive, and Ken would have to teach them using his own car. He thought ahead a few days earlier and made them read his state's driver's manual so they would be, at a minimum, familiar with the rules of the road.

They played 'rock-paper-scissors' to determine their order, after a five-minute explanation and practice games to learn how to play rock-paper-scissors in the first place.

The order of participants was Angelica, Cassandra, Sasha, and then Alisa.

First up, Angelica.

"Have you ever driven before?" Ken asked from the passenger's seat.

"There are some similar vehicles on my planet," Angelica answered. "But after all, we can fly."

"No flying cars?"

"No."

"That's kind of disappointing. Anyway, put the key in the ignition and turn it. The engine should start."

The car started.

"Did you read the manual?"

"Yes."

"Gears for an automatic? Signs? Braking patterns?"

"Yes, yes and yes."

"Well, let's give it a shot, shall we?"

Ken was expecting the worst, but Angelica's driving was smooth, careful, and precise. His car was in good hands. They drove about five miles, and then returned home.

"How did I do?"

"Very good. I don't think you'll have a problem passing the test."

"Thank you!"

Next up was Cassandra.

"Did you read the manual?"

"Yes. I know all the gears, signs and manners of the road."

"Do you have any flying cars on your planet?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Ken sighed, disappointed.

"What's wrong?"

"Childhood fantasy. Shall we start?"

Cassandra started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

Her style was about the same as Angelica's, but a little more . . . blunt . . . was the only word that came to Ken's mind.

When they returned, she asked for a critique. "How was it?"

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You should brake a little farther from where you want to stop. Other than that, I think you'll pass the test handily."

She let out a sigh of relief.

Next to last was Sasha.

She was very nervous about the prospect of driving. She sat at the wheel for a few moments before Ken broke the silence.

"Sasha, you don't have to learn right now, if you don't want to. We can try some other time."

She shook her head. "No. This is something I need to do. I can't rely on everyone else forever, now can I?"

Ken nodded. "That's the spirit. So, you know how to start the engine, right?"

She nodded.

"Good. How about we take it at your pace?"

"Okay," she said, and backed out of the driveway after starting the car.

Her driving wasn't bad, but she drove like a stereotypical 'little old lady.' They made it back in one piece.

"How did I do?"

Ken scratched his chin. "Not too bad, but you just need to pick up the speed a little bit."

She looked disappointed. "I see . . ."

"Hey, hey. Don't worry about it. We still have plenty of time to practice before the test."

She brightened up. "Thank you," she said, and left the car.

That left Alisa as the last driver. The other three had done fine. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Alisa got out of the car.

"So," Angelica asked, "what did Ken say?"

"He didn't say anything."

"Huh?"

"He just got very quiet during the drive. Then he started mumbling something about 'the valley of the shadow of death'."

"Valley of what? What did he mean?"

Cassandra considered the words, and then it came to her. "I think I read something like that before. I'm pretty sure people say that on this planet before they think they're going to die."

"What!?" Angelica shouted.

Cassandra went to the passenger's seat and looked through the window.

And there Ken was . . . white as a sheet, as if he had seen a ghost, and all other clichés that meant he had been scared witless.

Cassandra opened the door. "Um . . . Ken?"

No response.

Then, slowly, he turned to her. "Am I alive?"

"I think you are."

He smiled, and the color returned to his face. "It's good to be alive, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"The sounds of birds are splendid, aren't they?"

"Ken, you're scaring me. What happened out there?"

He gulped hard. "I am but a mortal, and yet . . . I have stared the Grim Reaper in the face."

"What?"

Ken grabbed her hand. "Promise me something."

"W-What!?"

"Promise me."

"W-Wait . . . I'm . . . not emotionally prepared—"

"Never let her drive."

"Huh . . . ?" She stared back at his serious look. She glanced at Alisa, then back to Ken. "Was she that bad?"

* * *

"A car?" Stan asked before sipping his coffee.

"Yeah. Actually, I need two. One for Angelica and one for Cassandra and Alisa."

"Don't you need three, then? Wait, there's that new girl, right? That's a total of four."

"Sasha will use mine when she needs to. Cassandra's going to drive, and it's been decided that Alisa's going to ride."

"Why's that?"

"I'd . . . rather not talk about it," he said, shuddering. "Angelica wanted something inconspicuous, and Cassandra doesn't care one way or the other."

Stan shrugged. "I'll ask around. I know there's an auction coming up tomorrow. A couple of cars are there. How about we have a look this afternoon?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

There were fewer people at the auction than Ken had anticipated. That would work to his advantage.

Stan came with him to inspect the cars for mileage and possible problems. Ken was glad that Stan had a lot of experience with cars. Stan's parents used to own an auto garage in another state, and had been exposed to cars a lot during his childhood. Whenever Ken had an issue with his car, Stan was always happy to look it over, and do minor maintenance. That was great for Ken, as he was always on a tight budget.

The best one was a barely used, dark green four-door, low miles for its age, and everything else seemed to be working fine. The rumor was that it had been driven by an elderly lady who only used it to go to church and the grocery store. The other cars, unfortunately, didn't seem a good fit; Stan could only recommend the green one. It was also as inconspicuous as any, so it matched up with what Angelica wanted.

The bidders didn't put up much of a fight. He paid fifteen hundred dollars for a mid-sized car with twenty-thousand miles on it. Surprisingly enough, the payment was from money Angelica had already given him from her personal savings. He would have to take care of the insurance, registration and tags later.

That left one more vehicle.

* * *

"A car?" Misses Ling asked.

Ken and Cassandra stopped by Misses Ling's house for a lead on another vehicle. Stan had been completely tapped out.

"Yes. I'm fresh out of ideas, so I wanted to know if you could suggest anything. I'd appreciate the help."

"Who is it for?"

"Cassandra and Alisa."

"Only one for both?"

"Yes. It's . . . a long story."

Ken left out that it was also due to mental trauma.

Misses Ling put her tea cup down on the coffee table and stood from the couch. "Follow me."

Ken and Cassandra followed her into the kitchen, and through a door to her garage. She flipped on the light switch, and there was something under a large, dusty car tarp.

"My husband used to toy around with this. He finished it, but passed away before he could enjoy it. I kept it as a memento, but I think it may be just as good a time to let go of it as any."

Ken grabbed an edge of the cover, and pulled.

An absolutely beautiful sports car was in front of them. It was deep red, and void of any blemishes. It had to have been forty years old.

Ken could only whistle in surprise.

"Is this car special?" Cassandra wondered from Ken's reaction.

"I don't know squat about cars, but I do know this one is a classic. Probably worth a bundle, too."

Cassandra looked at Misses Ling. "We can't take it then."

Misses Ling shook her head. "No. What would I need it for? Perhaps this is also another reason why I kept the car for so many years, in case someone like you needed it. Take it."

"If you insist," Cassandra acquiesced.

"I do," Misses Ling said, pulling a key ring from a hook next to the door. "Besides, I think it would suit you. I'm sure my late husband would have said so, too."

Then she handed the keys to Cassandra.

* * *

"Where in the world did you get this car!?" Stan gasped in shock.

"It was a gift to Cassandra."

"A gift!? Who gives out a classic sports car in perfect condition as a gift to someone who can't even appreciate it!?"

"I'll ignore that insult, no matter how true it might be. It was from Misses Ling next door."

"You mean the really hot older lady?"

Ken's face faulted at the remark. "Hot? She's just an old lady."

Stan grinned. "To each their own."

Ken shook his head. "Anyway, do you think you can give it a once-over?"

"Sure thing. I don't expect much to be wrong. How long has it been sitting around?"

"Probably about five years or so."

"I'm thinking it will need at least a flushing and oil change, but from what I'm seeing, it's in fantastic condition. Can I get right on it?"

"I'm supposed to be asking you that, right?"

Stan smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I haven't seen a car like this in a while. This is going to be fun. Let me get my tools."

* * *

Ken pulled into the Department of Motor Vehicles. Alisa, Angelica, Cassandra and Sasha were in the car with him, though it was a tight fit. No other cars were around, save for the back parking lot.

The paperwork and the paper tests were painless, since there were no other applicants that day. Angelica, Cassandra, Sasha and Alisa finished the test quickly, but Ken still had reservations about Alisa going anywhere near anything that had a steering wheel.

In the same order as when they had driven with Ken, Angelica, Cassandra, Sasha and Alisa were due to take their road tests. Normally there were two testers, but one was on maternity leave, which left a greying older gentleman by the name of Mister Calls.

Angelica, Cassandra, and Sasha took their tests, and passed admirably. Mister Calls took their paperwork in and handed it to the secretaries. There was an issue with the printer so their licenses would take a little while, until tech support came out to fix it.

Ken decided to wait outside to check on Alisa.

He saw her getting into the driver's side of the test vehicle, with Mister Calls as the passenger. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Ken prayed silently . . . mostly for Mister Calls to keep his sanity, and for Alisa to behave behind the wheel.

They returned ten minutes later. Alisa got out of the car and went into the building. Mister Calls, on the other hand, didn't.

"Uh-oh."

Ken went to the car, and knocked on the side window, and after a few moments, Mister Calls rolled the window down.

Ken cleared his throat. "How'd it go? Did she pass?"

Mister Calls, still staring forward, very slowly shook his head, eyes wide in fear.

Ken didn't know the exact details; after all, he didn't remember what happened during his ride with Alisa. The human mind blanks out traumatic experiences. He had the feeling that it wasn't anything he would want to remember. She must have been really bad.

Even so, she needed a license in case the worst happened, so Ken thought quickly.

Ken gave a mock sigh. "That's a shame. Really a shame. I guess she'll just have to try again next month."

It was almost like a jolt of electricity went through Mister Calls. "N-Next . . . month . . . ?" he stammered.

"Yes. She'll have to keep trying over and over again," Ken lamented, making sure to really punctuate each 'over'. "It would be nice for you to be her tester each time, since you just got to know each other. You two might even become the best of friends. Just think that you'll be able to drive with her. Over and over."

Mister Call's mouth dropped open.

"You two can have lunch together before or after the test. You know what? I'm a good cook. How's spaghetti or tuna casserole sound?"

Mister Calls couldn't reply.

"On a completely unrelated topic, do you have your will in order? I've been thinking lately that I need to get mine done. Do you have any recommendations?"

Mister Calls started to cry. "I don't want to die during a driver's test!"

"Everybody has to push off this mortal coil some time, right? Might as well be when you're doing something you enjoy. Don't worry. She'll only be taking the test until she passes."

Mister Calls looked down at the clipboard on his lap, and quickly made some adjustments to the score sheet. "Well, look at that! She passed after all! Curse these old eyes of mine."

Then he started laughing like a madman.

The laughing freaked Ken out, but his cunning plan had worked.

* * *

And so, the four otherworlders received their licenses.

Cassandra frowned when she looked at her photo. "I look like someone on a wanted poster."

"Everybody's looks like that," Ken informed her.

As they left, Ken overheard Mister Calls on a cell phone.

"Mister South? I'm looking to get my will updated. What time would be good for you?"

* * *

Silver shot an energy ball at Ken. He evaded and replied with a larger one of his own. They dashed toward each other, swinging; their weapons clashed together.

"You're doing much better," Silver said with a sly grin. "You've been practicing, haven't you?"

"Thanks for the compliment," Ken replied, pushed Silver back, and then shot him at point-blank range with an energy blast.

Silver flew back dozens of feet, but corrected his orientation and landed. "Not bad," he said, dusting himself off.

He then quickly replied with a beam of his own. Ken barely stepped out of the way. Silver was on him in a moment.

Ken blocked several blows, and saw Silver's kick coming, but was too slow to avoid it. It caught him straight in the abdomen, sending him on his back many paces away.

"Ow . . ."

"Oh, come on. I didn't hit you that hard."

"I forgot to put up the field."

"And whose fault is that?"

Ken got up and dusted himself off. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"On the contrary, I like you quite a bit. It's you who doesn't like me."

It was the truth.

"Something about you rubs me the wrong way."

"What part?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Well, I can't change anything if you won't tell me what it is."

Ken was trying to figure it out. Maybe it was the arrogant air about Silver, his sudden arrival, or his 'I-know-more-than-you-do-because-I'm-from-the-future' attitude.

It could also have been his hair.

"How about we try something a little more advanced?"

"How advanced? Something above shooting energy and flying?"

"Yes. It's a high-tier technique, but I think you just might be able to pull it off a little earlier than expected."

"How much is it going to hurt?"

"Directly? Not at all."

"How about 'indirectly'?"

"So, imagine that sphere again . . ."

"Don't dodge the question!"

"It shouldn't hurt too much . . . indirectly."

Ken decided to be quiet and listen.

"Once again, imagine that sphere. Now, imagine yourself inside that sphere. The energy inside it is unaffected by that image. While keeping that image in mind, start another image . . . sort of like viewing a cut screen on television. In that second 'screen,' I want you to image yourself again, but this time, better, more skilled, stronger and faster."

"That's a tall order, not to mention vague."

"It gets easier."

"Now what do I do?"

"Take that second image of yourself and overlay it over the 'you' inside the sphere."

Ken wondered what the effect would be, and skeptically did as Silver asked.

There was a cold sensation that spread from his center to all his limbs, but disappeared just as fast as it had appeared. His eyes flew open. He felt . . . different. How different, he didn't know. He felt it . . . knew it.

"What was that . . . ?" he wondered aloud.

"That, my friend, is what is known as an 'Overlap'."

"Overlap? You mean like what I just did in my head with those two images?"

"Precisely! This allows you to take a version of yourself from a parallel reality, and reinforce yourself. You can also play with the differentials. For example, giving yourself more speed than strength. There is a limit. The 'better' your Overlapped self, the harder it will be to maintain your concentration."

"Can I Overlap an Overlap?"

"Theoretically one can, but you would need something akin to multiple personalities to do so. The average manipulator can't do it." He then smiled. "Care to try it out?"

Ken hefted his pipe.

Silver did the same. "Just do like you normally do. You'll see the results."

Ken didn't waste any time, and rushed Silver. Ken did feel that his body was faster and his reflexes heightened. He swung the pipe, and Silver dodged it. Ken leapt back and fired two large blasts, Silver taking to the sky to avoid them.

Ken extended his wings, and dashed upward, colliding with Silver. Ken used an unorthodox approach, grabbing Silver around the collar, and threw him toward the ground, face first. Silver slowed his descent, and cart-wheeled quickly to avoid Ken's energy shot.

As he cart-wheeled, Silver fired upward to his target but the shot was blocked. Ken rushed down, avoiding two more shots. Ken pulled his arm back to swing.

Silver stepped aside and swung his staff into Ken's chest.

Due to his speed, Ken tumbled forward, rolled several times, and ended up on his back. Again.

"Ow . . ." he whined. "Didn't this happen a few minutes ago?"

"What did you think?" Silver asked, walking over.

Ken sat up. "Overlapping doesn't seem so great. I could barely get a hit on you."

"Even an enhanced 'average' version of yourself can't beat me, since I'm more skilled than you. Besides, you were trying to enhance every aspect of yourself instead of concentrating on one or two attributes."

"And why am I learning this again?"

"You're going to need it really soon. You might want to practice while I'm not here. And trying to trip me up by asking the same questions over and over won't work."

Ken shrugged. "You can't blame me for trying."

* * *

Ken and Sasha were doing preparations for dinner when Alisa walked up the stairs. He noticed her out of the corner of his eye, and saw Cassandra wasn't with her. They should have both arrived together from college.

"Where's Cassandra?"

"Still out in the car."

"Something wrong with it?"

"I don't think so. She just got very quiet when I was driving.

Ken stopped. She most certainly said 'when I was driving.'

She – Alisa – had driven.

He ran down the stairs, out to the driveway to the sports car.

Cassandra was in the passenger's seat, not moving.

Ken opened the passenger's side door. "I told you, didn't I?"

She slowly turned to him. "Am I alive?" she faintly said.

"That joke's already been done!"

### Talsenia

Talsenia is a planet orbiting a star called Avalt. It is the fourth planet in an area with a total of seven planets. Two moons orbit Talesnia: Naytide, with a fast orbit, and Raytide, with a very slow orbit. Neither moon has been terraformed, but there are two research centers on each. Talsenia has four seasons, with the first and second being mild in temperature, the third being considered the "rainy season," and the last being cold. Snow does not normally fall, except in the mountains. Fifty percent of the planet is covered in water.

Language

The major language, spoken by 90% of the populace, is Talsenic. Some dialects of Talsenic exist in rural and other out of the way areas, but contain enough similar terms that they are mostly intelligible. All major cities use Talsenic Standard for duty and legal documents. Over half the population speaks Entine Standard and mixtures of languages from other cultures. Talsenic Standard has very few 'flowery' words in its vocabulary, instead relying on an efficient exchange of minimal wording. Dialects may use other terms, but are not considered to be parts of Talsenic Standard.

People

Talsenia is based on order and patterns. Military discipline is a core tenant, taught to children from an early age. The division of military discipline is separated from military 'combat,' in that discipline is necessary to realize, work within, and accept your role as part of society.

The population makeup is approximately 92% native Talsenians and 8% other. The total population is approximately three billion. The male and female populations are currently out of balance, with males at 41% of the population, and females at 59%.

Galactic Relations

With nearly all major conflicts ending on the planet, Talsenians are often contracted by the Entine Republic for their tactical abilities and combat skills. Talsenians do not generally enter the Entine military, though Entine is part of the Republic. Their view of military protocol and prohibition of nearly all male entry into their military service give it a unique position in the Republic.

Immigrants to Talsenia are expected to follow Talsenian law. Those from Talsenia who are on duty to other planets are expected to be examples of the honor and upbringing of the Talsenian people – in effect, everyone who is not currently on Talsenia serves as a non-commissioned ambassador. Talsenia has no qualms about extraditing criminals to other planets when a matter has been fully investigated.

Culture

Talsenia is a matriarchal society, with males assuming their wife's surname. Females assume work roles, males assuming domestic roles. Males are banned from the majority of physical work – of their own volition, due to "The Change."

Five major events happen during the Talsenian year: the "New Year Festival," to greet the new year with a fresh state of mind; the "Harvest Festival," during the third season; "Remembrance," to remember those fallen during the year; "The Change," reflecting on the reversal of gender roles; and "Induction," celebrating the anniversary of entering the Entine Republic.

Government

Talsenia is a democratic republic, with a rotation of elected officials every five years. There are liaisons between countries, planets and the Entine Assembly.

Law

Talsenian law is quick and efficient, especially when it comes to violations of the law. It shares many of the same core laws as other planets: outlawing theft, murder – except in self-defense – and slavery, but also invokes a unique law found few places elsewhere in the Republic: respect for the gender division. Women are expected to provide for their families, and men are expected to take care of their families. Slander against the roles is a crime that is investigated and punishable based on the severity of the slander.

Religion

Talsenia has many religions, the most prominent being a monotheistic creation deity, the god of war, and judge of the dead. 70% of the population ascribes to being theistic. Influences on Talsenia society is pronounced, but government is separated from religion in policy.

Imports and Exports

Talsenia is the exclusive manufacturer of the TLS-079 Gatling Cannon, used on many 'Darts,' the atmospheric, transformable fighter that is the mainstay attack craft in the Republic. Its rapid fire technology and cooling abilities makes it a valuable asset.

Tourism is a regular facet of the Talsenian economy. It is a popular destination for cultures that have a similar militaristic background. The historical museum in the capital of Motelum has a large collection of military goods and weapons from many planets in the Republic.

Talsenia also supplies a fair amount of Yvonite as part of the Republic's backup plan.

Major Events

The Decimation War

One of the last large-scale planet-wide conflicts happened five hundred years before the present. The Decimation War reduced the male population from 53% to 42%. It had the highest death toll among any war the Talsenians had fought, and the longest: over ten years.

The Change

Due to the final escalated conflict, the balance of power shifted in favor of women. A further conflict of that scale would lead to irreversible damage to the populace. It was thought that male aggression was the culprit, and therefore needed to be held in check. The reversal of traditional gender roles was proposed by the new female majority. Resistance to the idea was fierce at first, but evaporated quickly. In an exceedingly short span of time – one year – the movement was embraced by the majority of the planet. After "The Change" was adopted, resistance came – not from the males, but the females.

The Talsenian engineer and 'incidental philosopher,' Kessoka Airsi, became disillusioned with the reversal after like-minded individuals started adopting different positions:

"They had asked for my opinion countless times. In some ways, perhaps I agreed with them – but only to an extent. After all, weren't we in danger of losing more men if another war like the Decimation happened? A genius – and I use that term lightly – deemed that physical labor was the key, and therefore needed to be regulated, curbed, and limited. The roles that men and women had needed to be reversed – for the sake of everyone, they said.

I am highly skeptical when someone says they are doing something for my sake, without any input from me. I asked them if they realized the scope of what they were doing. But like anyone drunk on the power they had just assumed, they dismissed all reservations, saying that it would iron itself out.

I wrote – at length – about the possible ramifications – specifically so that they wouldn't continue to ask for more opinions from me, yet there were few takers. Many felt this was their chance to usurp from the "patriarchy," and lead Talsenia to a glorious future. I could only think of the poor men and boys who were bearing the brunt of everything simply for being born with their reproductive organs on the outside of their bodies.

As the tide favoring this change increased to an unstoppable force of nature, I kept feeling a nagging sensation that this wasn't the best of ideas. It didn't ease the feeling that the prior resistance from the men dried up overnight. Overnight would be an exaggeration, but that was what it felt like. Women hailed this as the turning point, a victory for women and the survival of Talsenia. All the while, I could see their salivating fangs, wondering how to exploit the situation.

In the end, men were to avoid overtly physical work, and take up domestic chores. No one was conscious when the men asked for what was defined as overtly physical work. When they were given the vague answer of jobs like construction, heavy equipment, military service and the like, and that this gender reversal would take effect immediately after adoption, the men agreed, and true to their word, they complied.

Every male abandoned his job in the following areas: military, construction, mining, assembly, farming, sewage, waste management, and repairs.

It didn't take long for everything to come to a complete stop. When men were demanded that they give a reason for their 'desertion,' the men simply replied that they did what they were told to do. And this brought women to a dead silence.

The greatest con in Talsenian history had happened: not by men deceiving women, but rather women deceiving themselves.

I saw my sisters who had championed for a new way of life for 'the survival of the planet,' suddenly realize the gravity of the change: the full gender reversal had now put women into positions of high authority – and high responsibility.

I saw the greatest voice against military service. Where women had been excluded from it, they were required, nay, demanded to enter the service.

Sewage? Waste disposal? Most women never thought they would have to take up occupations such as those. Farming? Of course, food magically appears and takes no hard work.

I saw steadfast proponents of the switch try to backpedal in some hopes of alleviating their responsibility. The clues to what consequences awaiting them were easy enough to put together, yet they feigned ignorance at the result. However, their opinions had already been locked and recorded for posterity.

"This was not how it was supposed to be!" they cried.

Yet the deed was done.

I have concerns for our descendants, that they may be deluded into assuming there was unanimous support when the truth is a sizable populace thought it would simply be a way to control men and free themselves from responsibility, when in fact they had been shouldered with a heavier burden.

My mate, not a 'thinking man' but a 'doer,' stated the oft-repeated adage "Be careful what you wish for. You may just get it." When I had asked him, in retrospect, what he thought of the role change, he replied: 'Would I rather take care of a family, or put my life and physical health on the line?'

The reply was rhetorical, but served as his answer. Since we had fully stepped into responsibility, we had no choice but to abide by it, 'we' who pursued this change. In doing so, we may have failed to consider the future. While we may be grateful for the change, the question is: would our progeny?"

Due to the world-spanning change, the yearly tracking was changed to A.C., or After Change. The Change happened mid-year, therefore 1 A.C. only lasted half a year. Years prior to the Change are referred to as P.C., or Pre-Change.

Forrar Conflict – 6 A.C.

Five years after the gender reversal, the country of Forrar took advantage of chaos in its neighbor. The country of Streng had not fully adapted to the change, and using this opportunity, Forrar invaded Streng for resources.

Streng had all but dissolved its military, which left very little resistance to Forrar's assault.

Further neighbors were in the same situation as Streng, in which military power had been substantially reduced. With men prevented from entering the military, women of adult age were asked, and then drafted, into military service.

Once a resisting force had been assembled, it took a matter of months for the Forrar force to be expelled, and placed under heavy observation by all neighboring countries.

This conflict led to the adoption of the military draft system. Males were allowed to enter the service under provisional, non-combat roles.

Rise of Istory – 7 A.C.

While other counties were involved in the Forrar conflict, the country of Istory secretly stockpiled weapons and armor in its mountainous regions. While they supplied some forces against Forrar, they used the explanation that much of their military had been dismantled after the Change, and materials used in infrastructure.

One year after the Forrar conflict ended, Istory used the intervening period to launch strikes against neighbors, and steamrolled across various fronts, claiming artillery and armor as they spread out.

It was a small group of special forces from the county of Aggrark, by the name of the Grey Zephyrs, which infiltrated Istory and eliminated the command structure of the country. Without orders, their forces rapidly fell into disarray, morale collapsed, and the Istory forces were quickly destroyed. The conflict lasted three years.

Military Service – 12 A.C.

After the war with Istory, countries convened to dictate mandatory military service for its citizens. Of the many reasons for the service, the most prominent was that even in the baptism by fire through the battles against Forrar and Istory, experience in military affairs was lacking, and if there was more experience, the wars may have been far shorter.

Four years of mandatory military service was instituted for citizens, starting at age twenty. Each year of foreign service counted toward this quota.

Normalcy – 42 A.C.

By 42 A.C., the Change had become a way of life, and had fully integrated itself into Entine life. Both genders, with minor exceptions, had become accustomed to the reversal of roles, and many had been born after the Change, and as such, knew of nothing else.

Marsene Guiles, billed as a successor of the late Kessoka Airsi, became a well-read novelist and commentator of how the world had changed, based on historical record:

"Looking back on how things had changed, I find myself laughing when I research the past and rely on stories from my grandparents, and grandparents of friends. I remembered listening to their stories when I was young, and being fascinated by the fact that as much as things had changed, just as much had stayed the same.

When the Change happened, it was said there would be no more war, since that was something started by men. And yet we had two wars within a short time span.

I look at the interaction of the genders now, and compared to how things were before, women had it far easier. They were the ones who had the pick of suitors, the ones they chose to associate with, and the ones they would chose as their partners for the remainders of their lives.

Now it was the reverse. Women had to better themselves to be suitable mates, work hard, and provide for their families.

The Decimation tipped the balance of majority in the favor of women, but did something to tip the scale of social power toward men. With fewer men available, the pool of mates for women also was smaller.

I have several friends and acquaintances – and sadly, yours truly – who are still looking for their partners. As we group around a table at our favorite restaurant on a regular basis, we share our stories and console each other for failed attempts . . . and, I am sorry to say, curse those that have succeeded when we haven't.

All in good fun, of course."

Entine Contact – 242 A.C.

Over two hundred and forty years after the gender reversal, Talsenia was contacted by the Entine Republic.

The Talsenian public was quick to accept the entry into the Republic. Females are allowed into the Entine military upon application, but entry by males is severely limited based on aptitude in navigation, and to a lesser degree, research and development. Normally this would be against Entine law, as any gender is to be allowed into the military, but is through a special agreement of producing the TLS-079 Gatling Cannon, and supplying the republic with emergency reserves of Yvonite.

## Chapter Ten

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Conflict!

Katrina was eating a tangerine on the coffee table while watching TV with Natalia and Angelica.

Silver came up the stairs.

"Hello, ladies!"

"It's Silver!" Katrina chirped.

"Hey, Katrina. Is Alisa around?"

"I think she's in her room working on something."

"Good. I need to have a chat with her. Is Ken here? I don't think I saw his car in the driveway."

"He's doing a little last minute shopping. He'll be home soon."

"Better sooner than later."

Angelica noticed Silver seemed a little more on-edge than usual. "Something wrong?"

"Huh? Um, well, I've just been anticipating something for the last few days."

"What is it? Your period?" Natalia asked without missing a beat.

Silver frowned. "You know, I never liked that about you."

She rolled her eyes and went back to watching TV as Silver headed to Alisa's room.

* * *

When Ken returned home, he grabbed the bags from the trunk of his car and was about to hit the stairs when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end for a moment. He remembered the feeling when Silver would train him, and he would 'phase out' both of them—

Ken dropped the bags inside, near the door, and ran upstairs.

"Silver!" he yelled, trying to find where he was.

Katrina, Angelica and Natalia were in the living room, confused.

"Ken? What's happening?" Angelica asked.

Ken bit his bottom lip. He was a little relieved when he saw Cassandra, Alisa and Silver arrive from down the hall from Alisa's room, followed by Sasha.

"Silver! What's going on here!?" Ken yelled, looking around for him.

"We're about to have company."

"Company!? Exactly what is going to happen here!? I demand an explanation!" Natalia shouted, stamping her foot down for emphasis.

"It's a space-time field to put us out of phase," Katrina said.

"Out of . . . phase!?" Natalia echoed. "What does that mean?"

"Did you do this, Silver?" Ken asked.

"Yes. Things are about to get really hairy."

"What do you mean?" Ken asked.

"They're coming."

"They? Who exactly are they?"

"I don't have the time to give you all the details right now. Ken, Cassandra, Katrina, come with me. Natalia, Angelica, Sasha, you three stay inside. Alisa, do what we agreed upon."

Alisa nodded.

Silver headed down the stairs, followed by the three he chose. Ken picked up his pipe, they went out the side entrance and Silver stopped in the middle of the driveway, looking out toward the street.

"What are we waiting for?" Ken asked Silver.

Katrina was looking around.

"Something's . . . coming . . ." she said.

"Huh?"

"Over there." She pointed ahead to where Silver was looking.

The air shimmered two feet off the ground at the end of Ken's driveway. It looked like a curtain that was shifting in the breeze.

Ken addressed Silver without looking at him. "What's that?"

Silver produced his staff. "It's someone trying to break into this space-time field."

"Wait. Aren't we phased out of reality or something? How can they get in here?"

"We're phased out on this time plane. They're trying to break through from a different time plane."

"This is crazy," Cassandra muttered.

"That it is," Silver agreed. "But it's real. You're about to get a crash course in it."

The shimmering expanded.

"They're not evil by any stretch of the imagination. They're simply . . . misguided."

The shimmer continued to grow.

"They're being used by someone with ulterior motives, and are blinded by their need. And they're not above resorting to force to obtain what they need."

"And what do they want?" Cassandra followed up.

The shimmer suddenly grew to the size that a person could walk through. And that's what three of them did.

Silver half-heartedly waved to Streyes, Schove and Sona. "Hey, gang. Long time no see. How have you been?"

Schove grimaced at him. "As if you didn't know."

Streyes stepped forward. "This is your last chance. I don't want to do something even more . . . unpleasant. You have friends with you, right?"

"They can take care of themselves. But you surprise me, Streyes. I would expect those kinds of threats from Schove, but not from you."

"We're reaching the end of our rope. We don't have a choice."

"I've told you how many times? I can help if you want help. You just have to ask. The Library can't help you."

"And why is that?" Streyes asked.

"Because it's not as omnipotent a place that everyone thinks it is. Your 'benefactor' – and I use that term loosely here – has ulterior motives, and is playing you three for fools to accomplish what he wants. When he's done, he'll toss you aside."

"Tohtell is a fine, upstanding gentleman who stepped up to help. We're grateful and are working to repay our debt. As long as we get the key to the Library, he'll work as hard as he can to cure us."

"I've told you that I can help you if you ask me for help."

Schove cut in. "We already did! And you refused!"

"I refused giving you access to the Library, not helping you out. You're not listening."

Sona stepped forward. "Because Tohtell has researched all he can, and concluded the only way is the knowledge in the Library."

Silver pointed his staff at them. "He's wrong. You're wrong. I wish you could believe me."

"Then why not allow us access to the Library? Then everything will be settled. We can see who's telling the truth." Streyes offered.

"Unfortunately, that can't be done. If you had access to the Library, he would force you to show him to it. And he'll throw you aside after he has it. Tohtell is a madman who is concerned with only one thing: absolute control."

"Stop it, Streyes," Schove said. "He's not going to help us. I'm tired of waiting. It's time we showed him what we've learned since last time."

Streyes produced his axe. "I wish it could have been different, Silver."

"So do I," Silver lamented.

Sona and Schove also produced their weapons. Ken took the opportunity to brandish his pipe, and Cassandra unsheathed her blade.

Ken didn't know what was going on, or who Silver's three acquaintances were. One of the three said they were at the end of their rope. Did they have some sort of illness? If so, wouldn't Silver have helped them? The Library was what they were after, or at least access to it. Why wouldn't Silver just do it?

Ken could stand there for a long time with a cascade of questions, but he wouldn't get any answers at that moment. There was a threat to his safety and his tenants' by those three, and Ken didn't care for that.

He glanced to Silver, and regardless of how much he didn't like Silver, he felt that he could only trust in the man who had been teaching him tricks for the past few weeks. Ken hoped he could hold his own.

If they were going to fight, what would Cassandra be able to do? She didn't seem like a manipulator or anything like that, so would she be able to stand her ground against someone who could move many times faster than she did? And what about Katrina? She was a manipulator, or something. Was she able to fight?

That's when he felt something emanating from Silver, and it somehow affected Cassandra. That answered one question. He didn't feel anything from Katrina, but being a complete novice to the space-time thing, he wasn't sure if he should have been looking for something else.

Ken overlapped, and was just in time as he saw the three strangers at the end of the driveway fly towards them.

"Ken, you're with me."

Silver jumped to the left, followed by Ken, to the roof of the adjacent house. Streyes and Schove followed.

Ken and Silver launched a barrage of energy blasts at their pursuers when they landed. Silver's smaller bursts were avoided, but Ken's larger shots had to be knocked aside. When their opponents were in range, they committed themselves to melee attacks. Streyes headed for Silver, and Schove to Ken. Both sets of combatants locked weapons.

Schove grinned at Ken. "Hey, Streyes! We've got someone here with some teeth. What's your name, victim?"

"As if I'd tell you," Ken muttered.

This was combat. Real combat. What was he doing? The guy with the clawed gauntlets was specifically trying to cause him harm, maybe even kill him.

Why the hell was he there!?

The question wasn't answered. Instead, in the split second it took him to consider the question, he came up with a response and not an answer.

It didn't matter, since he was already involved.

Ken calculated and used the energy to push Schove back into the air.

Ken glanced over at Silver. His 'teacher' had just given his opponent a head butt, and then swung with his mace, knocking Streyes toward the ground, where he skidded ten feet. Silver fired a beam up at Schove who was still hovering. He evaded it.

"What are you doing, Ken!? Attack him!"

Ken looked up at his opponent and bit his bottom lip.

Was this really happening?

* * *

Cassandra had problems of her own.

The woman's weapons were shorter than her saber, but she had two of them, and she was very fast . . . faster than anyone Cassandra had ever faced off against. Even faster than her mother.

Cassandra was amazed that she was holding her own. She felt lighter and quicker than she ever had, and that must have made the difference, but she was parrying and defending more than her opponent was. Even if she attempted to strike, it would be evaded, and the woman would retaliate with a savage combination that Cassandra would have to block, sidestep and duck to avoid losing a digit, or worse.

Cassandra had practiced so much to reinforce what she learned over the years. But despite all that, she was running on the mental path toward panic. All the techniques she knew, studied, and rehearsed over and over again – reactions she could come up with and implement in any other situation – were completely useless now. She'd repeated her exercises so much that her body reacted when it needed to, but it seemed all the tactical knowledge she had was gone, nonexistent, for her current predicament.

It was completely different than when she was fighting Silver. She was able to block, counterattack, evade, and figure out what to do back then, regardless of how he attacked.

Trying to get a little room to breathe, she hopped back, causing the woman to miss with her attack. That was when Cassandra saw Katrina come out of hiding and produced some sort of stick – or was it a staff? It didn't matter, as the tip glowed briefly, and a blast of energy hit the woman directly in the face.

Shaking off the brief surprise, Cassandra took the opening. She hopped forward and slashed down her opponent's body.

What she thought was the conclusion to the fight was anything but. She witnessed a brief spark when her saber impacted against the woman.

The woman was unharmed.

"No way!" Cassandra and Katrina exclaimed in unison.

The woman tensed up, and her eyes turned orange. Cassandra saw blood trickle from the outer corner of her left eye.

The woman's kick was fast and caught Katrina full force. She yelped in surprise, hit the brick siding of the house, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Instinctively, Cassandra moved back to avoid the woman's second kick. She was about to strike back when she noticed the pulsating ball of energy in the woman's hand.

Cassandra froze in disbelief. Energy? Right in her opponent's hand? Was it some kind of magic?

That pause was enough time for the woman to thrust her hand forward and hit Cassandra in the chest, point-blank. She flew back, went through a bush, and landed on her back. She gasped for air as the wind had been knocked out of her.

She struggled back to her feet when she was shot again.

* * *

Terms exist in every language to state that one's skill may be lacking at a particular task. One of those terms is "Biting off more than you can chew."

Another one is "In over your head."

That's the one that was running through Ken's head over and over. He'd been hit several times, albeit lightly. His opponent was toying with him. There was no other reason he could think of. Ken couldn't land a single blow, whether swinging or shooting, and he was getting frustrated.

Schove obviously had more combat experience than he did, and was making Ken well aware of it.

On the other end of the spectrum, Silver was giving his opponent a hard time. His speed was greater than his opponent's, but Streyes was showing more frustration than anything. Silver looked like he hadn't a scratch on him.

Ken continued to flail at his opponent, each of the attacks being blocked or dodged. Schove glanced toward the ground and then smiled if noticing something. His eyes turned orange and a streak of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. He lunged forward and attacked with such force that, even by blocking it, Ken was sent toward the ground.

He landed safely and looked around and saw Cassandra – motionless – on the ground several feet away. He wanted to check on her, but with enemies around he couldn't. He didn't see Katrina anywhere. He hoped she was safe.

Silver landed in the front lawn of the yard next door. Ken rushed to join him. Streyes, Schove and Sona surrounded them.

"What do we do now?" Ken asked.

"Don't worry. It's under control."

"Are you nuts!?"

"Now this is the kind of power is I'm talking about! What say you now, Silver?" Schove shouted triumphantly.

Silver tilted his head to the side. "Not bad, I guess. If all of you were real manipulators, I'd be worried."

"We didn't ask to be pseudo-manipulators!" Sona yelled.

"Remember when I told you to not continue your experiments? You wouldn't listen. I told you about what could happen, and the effects that most certainly would happen."

"You could have done what it took to stop us! Why didn't you force us to stop!?"

"Because it would have still caused you to pursue it in other ways." Silver shook his head. "Why is it that you blame everyone but yourselves? It's always someone else's fault. Sometimes you have to accept that things that have happened to you . . . no matter how unfair it is."

Schove dashed forward. "I'M TIRED OF LISTENING TO YOU CONDESCEND US!"

Ken stepped in front of Silver.

"Out of the way, victim!"

Schove batted Ken out of the way. He flew toward his house, over his car and slammed up against the side of the house.

It hurt. It really hurt. Ken's vision wobbled a bit. He couldn't see out of his left eye. There must have been some swelling. He didn't know if he put up his field or not, but it felt like he had been hit by a car, then run over by another one.

He looked around, and saw Cassandra still unconscious, and Katrina was next to him, also unconscious. He was going to reach out to her when he heard an explosion of energy, and he looked toward Silver.

Silver's three opponents leapt at him like animals ready to take down their next meal. Their coordinated attacks were impressive, but Silver's evasion of every attack was just as impressive.

After one step to evade Streye's axe, he kicked Streyes aside and shot Sona away with an energy bolt. Schove continued attacking, undaunted.

Ken didn't know if it was because of a blow to his head, but he thought something was odd about the way Silver was moving. Schove seemed to be as fast as ever but Silver looked . . . slower. He was parrying and evading with time and space to spare, but his movements were different.

All of the sudden, Schove swung once, disarming Silver, and a second slash hit him in the arm, causing a spray of blood.

Silver's staff flew through the air and clattered next to Ken's car.

Schove grabbed Silver by the neck and hoisted him. "Where's that condescending attitude of yours now?"

Silver struggled to reply. "I seem to have left it . . . in my other jeans."

"Jokes to the end, huh? Well, we've won, so there's no need for you anymore."

"Schove. Forget about him and get the staff," Streyes ordered.

Ken struggled to his feet and sent a large blast at Schove. It hit him in the back, but had little effect. Schove glanced back and dropped Silver.

Schove walked the short distance to Ken.

Ken tried to ready himself. Schove was going to kill him, and Ken knew it.

"Stay down, victim," Schove said flatly, punctuating it with a hard punch to Ken's face. Ken fell against the side of the house again, sliding down. Angelica, Natalia and Sasha appeared from the sidewalk along the back of the house.

Schove charged up a ball of energy in his hands, and pointed toward Ken. He gave a sideways glance to the three new targets and said, "I'll take care of you three in just a moment."

Ken tried to move but couldn't. "Get out of here!" he tried to scream at them.

Angelica, Natalia and Sasha couldn't move due to seeing Ken slumped against the wall, and Cassandra and Katrina unconscious.

Something collided with Schove. It was burned red, and so fast that Ken couldn't see what it was.

Schove was launched several feet into the front yard. Whatever the red thing was, it continued across the yard, slammed into Sona, tripped Streyes, and then took to the air, disappearing behind a house across the street.

Silver's staff flew from the ground right to his grasp. "My patience is exhausted."

A breeze emanated from Silver. It was an Overlap. Red, skeletal wings sprouted from his back. Then something else started happening. It was an 'itchy' feeling spreading over Ken; it was almost like ants were crawling over his entire body. Something immense was going on.

"Stop him!" Streyes shouted as an order, and all three sped toward him.

A sound like a small explosion came from several houses down. Streyes sensed something and put up his field in the direction of the sound.

Alisa's anti-tank rifle shell exploded against the field. Anti-tank rounds don't normally explode, but they were, needless to say, 'modified.'

"What was that!?" Streyes shouted in surprise.

Sona looked toward the sound and spotted Alisa lying on the ground next to a bush. She was pointing a long-barreled rifle at them.

"She's got an anti-tank rifle," Sona said.

Two more shots came in quick succession. Sona and Schove put up their fields. The shells would have no effect on them. But Alisa's ranged attacks had a different purpose.

Whatever Silver had been doing, it must have been completed because Streyes, Schove and Sona turned toward him.

Silver's eyes were now a whirlpool of orange, red and green.

Three actions happened in one fluid motion: Streyes was hammered against the ground; Sona was knocked against the house across the street; and Schove flew against the car.

Silver followed up on Schove, using his free hand to pummel Schove brutally. Ken could hear two loud snaps of bone; Silver must have broken Schove's jaw, and a handful of ribs.

It was now Schove's turn to be picked up by the neck. Silver glanced over to Streyes. "If any of do anything like go after non-combatants again, I will break all three of you in half." Silver was deadly serious.

He tossed Schove to Streyes, who caught him. Sona arrived from across the street. They both turned, dejected, going through a portal Sona opened.

Silver then returned to normal.

Ken didn't believe what had happened, but it did just happen. The pain he felt – and was still feeling – was proof that the encounter was all too real. Once 'pain' came to mind, he instantly thought about Katrina and Cassandra.

"Katrina!" he yelled.

She was still lying next to him. He picked her up in his left hand and rubbed her cheek with his right index finger. She finally came around.

"Are you okay?"

"Y . . . Yeah. Did someone . . . huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"I think the question is 'Did someone get the license number of that truck'?"

Ken chuckled. "If you can make a joke like that, you'll be okay." He stood up.

Angelica, Natalia and Sasha checked on Cassandra.

"All you all right?" Sasha asked.

Cassandra groaned. "I . . . I feel like I just had a boulder dropped on me." She got to her feet, but winced and put her hand to her stomach.

Ken was relived they were both all right.

Silver walked up to the group. "Everyone all right?"

Ken responded by grabbing Silver by the front collar. "What the hell is going on here!? You have a lot of explaining to do!"

Silver calmly removed Ken's hand. "I fully intend to."

"You're . . . bleeding," Katrina noticed.

"So I am," he replied. He concentrated and his wound vanished.

"It's gone . . . ?" Ken remarked.

"Mostly. It's still sore." Silver moved his staff closer to Katrina and she glowed for a moment. "Feel any better?"

"Yeah. You really are a Coordinator, aren't you?"

Silver walked over to Cassandra and healed her in the same way. "T-Thanks," she said. Then Silver did the same for Ken.

Silver looked at each of them, one by one. There was a combination of uncertainty and fear in each of their expressions.

"Why don't we go inside? This is going to be an unbelievable story."

* * *

They were sitting in the living room. It was silent. Everyone was thinking about what had just happened outside. Angelica, Natalia and Sasha seemed to be taking it well, but they weren't the ones who had been beaten up. Katrina was eating a strawberry, her usual chipper self returning. Cassandra seemed a little more quiet than usual.

Ken rubbed his forehead. "Okay, Silver. Could we take it from the start? I'm fuzzy on the details."

"Right." He took a sip of coffee and put his cup down. "I'm a time traveler."

No matter how serious he was, it was still unbelievable to hear he was a time traveler. All of Ken's tenants who had no prior knowledge of him gave him an odd look.

"A . . . time traveler?" Sasha repeated

"Yes. As impossible as it sounds."

"How can you say that with a straight face?" Natalia said with an incredulous look toward Silver.

"How can you not consider the possibility, after everything you saw today?"

Natalia sighed, but Sasha was a little more inquisitive.

"What did you come for, then?"

"That's the best question I've heard all day. Even so, I can't tell you the exact reason."

"You keep dodging that one," Ken said.

"Because if you know the future, it would affect the present. There are a specific number of events that must happen in each loop."

"Loop?" Katrina asked. "You've been through this before?"

"Yes. And the Silver before me, and so on. I'm here to make sure the loop continues without being changed too much. There are other forces at work here that have an interest in altering events."

"People trying to mess with time? Like those three?"

"Sort of. Those three don't want to alter time. They're working for someone who wants access to something that's known as the 'Akashic Library'."

Silver looked at each of Ken's tenants. "Have any of you heard of it?"

Angelica shook her head. As did Natalia. As did Sashsa.

Unsurprisingly, Katrina and Ken raised their hands.

But surprisingly, Cassandra raised hers.

Silver nodded toward Cassandra. "Cassandra, what have you heard about it?"

"Just a legend. It's a library the size of a planet, somewhere at the center of the universe. Any subject you can think of is there, but it would take a lifetime to find what you want, and another lifetime to read all of what you found."

"Not entirely correct, but not entirely incorrect."

"Then what is it?" Sasha asked.

"It's a collection of knowledge."

"Isn't that the definition of any library?" Natalia shot at him.

"Sure. But it's a place where knowledge of the past, present and future is housed."

Ken nodded in agreement, remembering what Peter from the Library had told him. "So why does that man want access to the Library? And what about those three people? Do they have some sort of illness?"

"Yes, they do. Of their own doing."

"If you couldn't give them access to the Library, why wouldn't you just look up the information for yourself and help them?"

"I tried. They're my friends, so don't you think I would try and help them?"

"F-Friends!? What kind of friends are they!?" Ken yelled.

"Friends that are being misled. I knew them all before they were like that. Being a space-time manipulator is something that you're either born to be, or not at all. However, there are ways that people can learn to manipulate space-time. Unfortunately, if you're not born with the ability, there are side effects."

Ken heard that and remembered blood from Schove's mouth. He was about to comment on it when Cassandra spoke up.

"The woman was bleeding from one of her eyes."

Silver nodded. "That's one of the side-effects. And it's going to get a lot worse for them. That's why they're desperate."

"What happened to them?" Sasha asked. "I mean, if we know more about what happened, we might be able to find some other way."

Silver folded his arms. "They may not look it, but all three of them are brilliant scientists. They're from different planets, but coincidentally, their work focused on the same thing: the control of space-time, and how it might be used to affect reality."

He bit his bottom lip for a moment, and then continued. "I tried to tell them what would happen, that trying to control space-time would be deadly in the long run. Needless to say, they didn't listen. At first, they were able to control facets of space-time like someone who had been born with the ability. Then came the side-effects. Time and time again I tried to get them to stop, but they had already been contacted by a manipulator by the name of Alexander Tohtell. He convinced them that I have the key to curing their condition. And so here we are."

"All of those things everyone was doing, even flying. Is it magic?" Cassandra wondered out loud.

Silver shook his head. "It's simply the manipulation of reality. I mean, it's all governed by rules, but a lot of them are even over my head. I can do only what I've been trained to do."

"Then what do you want us to do?" Ken asked bluntly. "As you can see, we were completely outmatched. They're after you, not us. Don't tell me you want us to keep fighting?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking you to do."

"We'll get killed!"

"No, you won't. Everyone will learn to fight at one point. Like Alisa over there."

Alisa was cleaning her gun.

"Where'd you get that high-powered rifle!?" Ken yelled.

"It's not a high-powered rifle. It's an anti-tank rifle."

"Oh, is that all? I was thinking—an anti-tank rifle!?" Since when have you had an anti-tank rifle!?"

"Since two days ago."

"Two . . . !?" Ken gave up trying to understand her for the moment, and addressed Silver again. "Honestly, Silver, how do you expect us to do anything? We're not warriors. Well, we could classify Cassandra as one, and maybe you could consider me one, but overall, we're just non-combatants. How are we going to fight?"

"You may not believe this, but you all get a lot better. So much that any one of you could have taken on those three today, and won single-handed."

"Are you serious?" Natalia wondered out loud.

Ken wondered, too. Katrina was tiny. Natalia was just a rich girl. Sasha didn't look like she could, or would, hurt a fly. Angelica was . . . Angelica. Those were the four he was concerned about. They would be able to beat those three people?

"I can't save them without your help. The alternative is far worse. And you all have a stake in it."

"How do we have a stake in this?" Ken asked.

"I'd say saving the world, but most people can't imagine the scope of it. Did you know that you all have been brought here for a reason?"

"You're sounding like one of those astrology columns."

"I know, I know. The wheels of fate have spun, and we are all now intertwined. Well, our destinies at any rate."

"Seems fair," Angelica said.

"What!?" Ken blurted out.

"Sure," Katrina chirped.

"We're already involved," Alisa said.

"That we are," Natalia agreed.

Ken face-palmed. "Hold it, hold it, hold it right there! How can you all just go along with this!? 'Destinies intertwined'!? It's like some new age cult!"

Cassandra looked up. "You Earthlings think about things too much, don't you? If we're already involved, we can only see it through as best we can."

Ken sighed and noticed Sasha hadn't said anything yet. "Sasha, can you at least say something that would be profound?"

"Well, I . . . I can't fight at all, but I'll . . . do my best to support everyone."

"Gaaaaaaah!"

These women would be the death of him.

* * *

Ken served dinner to everyone – excluding Silver, who went home – and everyone was watching TV in the living room.

Ken made coffee and just stood at the back of the living room. His tenants were acting like nothing had happened. He considered the possibility that it was all just a hallucination, a really bad hallucination. It seemed too much fantasy to be real.

He put a free hand to his chest and lightly pushed. The soreness was still there. It had happened.

Thinking further back on it, he remembered a flash of red in front of him just after he was thrown against the side of the house. It had knocked down one of the strangers right in front of him, so he couldn't have been imagining it.

Or did he imagine it? No one else brought it up. If anything could have caused his subconscious to create something like that, it would be a blow to the head. Ken decided to keep quiet about it until someone else brought it up. That's when he could prove whether or not it was a hallucination.

Looking back on his tenants, Ken was amazed they were taking it so well. That's when he noticed Cassandra was missing.

He looked in her room, but she wasn't there. On the way back out to the living room, he caught sight of her outside on the deck. He went out the back door. She was just staring at the sky, leaning against the railing.

"Surprised to find you out here," Ken said, moving next to her.

"Oh. Hi, Ken."

"Trouble?"

"Well, I was just thinking about . . . earlier."

"I thought I was the only one."

"It's just really . . . really frustrating."

Ken leaned against the railing next to her. "Well, we did get our heads handed to us."

"It's not that."

"Huh?"

"I've trained, practiced and focused a lot. I thought I could handle anything that I came across . . . but . . ."

"But?"

"I . . . I froze up. I'd appreciate it if you would keep this a secret from everyone."

"My lips are sealed."

"My first real combat, and I froze up. That's the worst thing that could have happened. My mother would kill me if she new that, putting as much into practicing with me as she did."

From that candid confession, Ken's opinion of Cassandra changed for the better. She always seemed so in control, so sure of herself while they practiced that he hadn't even considered that she might actually not be up to the task of real combat. He now knew that there were limits even aliens had, and were just as disappointed when they realized they weren't doing as well as they felt they should have.

"If it's any consolation, it was everyone's first combat experience."

"It's not the same."

"Not the same? We all had out first experience, and we all got beaten. Badly. All the training, practice and thinking in the world won't be of any help unless you experience it at least once. If you don't, you'll never understand why you're learning what you are, what you can do, and your absolute limit."

"You're—" she stopped mid-sentence and smiled. "I think I misjudged you."

He turned to her. "And just what do you mean by that?"

She turned to him. "I thought you were just an odd, high-strung guy. But you're really profound."

He patted her on the head. "Stick with me, kid. I'll show you plenty of other things that you'll need to know. Whether you want to or not."

She smiled. "Seems fine."

There was a silence, when a voice broke it.

"Awww . . . isn't that sweet?" Katrina said.

Surprised, Ken and Cassandra looked at the door. Katrina, Angelic, Alisa, Natalia and Sasha were spying on them.

"This is not what you think!" Ken sputtered.

Natalia gritted her teeth. "Taking advantage of a defenseless guest in your home? What kind of person are you!?"

"You're mistaken! And what do you mean by defenseless!? She could take my head off!"

"Well, as long as they're both consenting adults," Angelica said.

"Agreed," Alisa . . . agreed.

Katrina was making figure-eight patterns in the air. "Kenny and Cassandra, sittin' in a tree—"

"Knock it off!"

"That's right," Sasha said.

"Thank you, Sasha."

"You're shouldn't make fun of married couples."

"Gaaaaah! My head!"

"Don't worry," Cassandra consoled him.

"Huh?"

"We're going to train a lot harder. Starting tomorrow."

"Harder?"

"Yes. But don't worry. Your bruises and fractures will heal."

Ken's eyes went wide, and he stepped back. "Fractures!?"

"I personally won't be able to do anything about a severed limb, but even with Earth's current medical science—"

"Severed . . . limb!?"

"But the training will be useful."

"I don't want my limbs lopped off!"

Ken sunk to his knees. These women really were going to be the death of him.

## Chapter Eleven

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Halloween!

"What are you doing?" Katrina asked.

"I'd like to know as well," Angelica added.

Ken was in the downstairs storage room, looking among large orange tubs that were stacked against both walls.

Katrina peeked her head up in the room and sneezed. "It's so dusty in here!"

"It's the only room I don't clean as much as I should."

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm trying to find the Halloween decorations," Ken said, shuffling some plastic tubs around.

"Hallo-what?"

"Here they are," he said, grabbing an orange tub with 'Halloween Decorations' written on the side of it in magic marker. He moved to the door. "Hey, Angelica, could you take this upstairs to the living room? Don't worry. It's really light."

He handed it to Angelica and she moved out of the room. Katrina and Ken left as well, and he closed the door.

"What is this for again?" Angelica wondered

"Halloween, of course."

"Halloween? Who is that?"

* * *

"Halloween is a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Depending on the culture, it's sometimes good, sometimes bad."

"What does it mean here?" Angelica said, looking at the open tub of decorations.

"It's just an excuse for children to dress up in costumes, and go door to door to get candy."

"Candy? They get candy from houses?" Katrina blinked, excited.

"They have to knock on the door and say 'Trick or Treat'!"

"And they receive candy?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like fun!"

"What kind of costumes are there?" Cassandra asked.

"Ghosts, zombies, monsters, super heroes, angels, pixies, and just about anything else you can think of."

"I don't know what most of those are, but I'll take your word for it. And what are these decorations for?" she continued.

"We're going to put them in the windows, trees, and in the yard."

"And just for walking around, they get candy?" Katrina asked again.

"Yes. Didn't I say that?"

"And what do you get out of all of this?" Natalia asked from the couch.

"What do I get? Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Do I have to get anything for it?"

* * *

The decorations consisted of three signs near the driveway, a couple of decals with a string of pumpkin lights in the front window, and some plastic ghosts in the tree in the front yard.

Ken turned from the lights, and saw a white handkerchief floating in air as if it was draped over something. In this case, someone.

"Boo!" it said in a not-so-unfamiliar voice.

"Um, what are you supposed to be?"

"A ghost! Boo!"

"Cute ghosts aren't scary. Besides, you forgot the eye holes."

"Oh, I did think it was kind of hard to move, since I couldn't see where I was going."

"Come to think of it, don't you use your wings to fly?"

"Nah," Katrina—the ghost—said, pulling her costume off. "Betlinians can naturally fly. We just use the wings for turning and for balance."

"Do you float when you're asleep?"

"No. We have to be awake. But some people have a condition called 'sleep flying'."

"Wow."

"Anyway, where is all the candy?"

"It's downstairs. We'll make up small bags when everyone gets home."

Ken turned back to the lights, adjusted two of them, and turned back to Katrina.

The handkerchief was floating in front of him again.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Boo!"

"You still forgot the eye holes."

"Dang it!"

* * *

"Okay, take some candy at random and put them in the little bags here," Ken instructed, pulling a half-handful of candy from the box in the middle of the room. Everyone was seated in a circle on the floor. Ken had taken all the candy he bought and dumped it in the cardboard box.

Rustle, rustle.

"Make sure you don't put the same piece of candy in a bag. We want some variety."

He finished up the bag, and put it aside.

Rustle, rustle.

"Why do I have to do this kind of work?" Natalia whined.

"Just call it 'cultural experience'."

Rustle, rustle.

"Couldn't you just give the pieces out as they come?"

"You can, but when you have a line, it's faster this way."

Rustle, rustle.

"Say," Cassandra remarked while putting some candy in a small plastic bag, "where's Katrina?"

Candy flew everywhere as Katrina jumped out of the box. "Boo!" she shouted in a feeble attempt to scare everyone.

Ken picked her up by the back of her collar. "No slacking off. And clean up the mess."

"Yes, sir . . ."

An hour later, they were finished making the candy bags.

"Now time for the pumpkin." He stood up and went to the dinner table.

"Pumpkin? What's a pumpkin?" Alisa asked.

They gathered around the table, Ken pulled the large orange vegetable out of a paper bag on the floor and set it on the table. "This is a pumpkin."

"Never seen one of them before. Is it edible?"

"The inside is. You can make pie and other foods out of it."

Angelica poked it with her finger. "It's kind of hard. What do we do with this?"

"The goal is to cut a face in it. However—"

"Leave that to me!" Cassandra said, unsheathing her saber.

"But—" Ken tried to voice an objection.

A couple of strokes of her weapon and she carved a smiley face into the outside skin of the pumpkin.

She sheathed her saber and smiled. "Pretty good, huh?"

Ken took a closer look at it. "Not too shabby. I suppose you also cut the top off, scooped out the insides, and made his face go all the way through one layer so that we can put a light in it, right?"

"Uh . . ."

Ken sighed, and handed her a carving knife and a large spoon. "I'll get the other two pumpkins from downstairs."

* * *

"Decorations, done. Candy, done. Pumpkins, done. T-minus two days and counting. Oh, and the pumpkin croquettes are finished."

Ken finished putting the food out on the dinner table.

"There are lots of unique customs here, aren't there?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah, and we've only just started. There are two more important ones before the end of the year."

"What are they?"

"It's a surprise. One is arguably the most important holiday of the year. And Alisa's birthday is coming up toward the end of the year, so we'll have to do something special for her. Getting back to Halloween, you all can dress up if you want, but you're a little too old to go Trick or Treating."

"Then we can't get any candy?" Katrina asked.

"We still have a quarter of a box over there! Have at it."

* * *

Ken had turned off the lights, and the living room was illuminated only by four candles on the coffee table.

He stood up, and cleared his throat. "This is a story from many years ago. It's so terrible, so horrifying, that not many people have heard it. It's a tale of something that happened in this very neighborhood."

His tenants were sitting in various spots around the living room, listening to his story.

"Mister and Misses White lived down the street, living a peaceful life like any other family. They had a healthy son who was working at a local factory in order to pay his way through college.

"One day a dear friend of the family, Mister Morris, stopped by to pay his respects after a long time. He had just retired from the Armed Forces after a long tour overseas, and returned from a vacation in India.

"After many stories about his time overseas, he presented them with a souvenir that he had picked up in a curio shop. It was a small, mummified hand with three fingers. He said it was a paw from a monkey, adding that there was a little bit of magic in it. It could somehow grant three wishes, but the shopkeeper he purchased it from had warned Mister Morris that there are consequences to what one wishes for. Mister Morris was tempted to use it at least once, but considering how the White Family had been so kind to him over the years, he decided to give it to them.

"After Mister Morris had left, Mister White humorously contemplated what they could use the wishes for. Their house had about twenty-thousand dollars left on the mortgage, and playing along with Mister Morris's obvious joke, picked up the monkey's paw and wished just for that: twenty-thousand dollars to pay off the mortgage.

"All of the sudden, he let out a gasp and dropped the paw. His wife and son came to find out what was wrong. He was simply staring at the paw on the ground, and he told to them that the paw had moved after he made the wish. His son laughed, as did Misses White, telling him that it was his imagination. Mister White swore otherwise, but since nothing else had happened, he cautiously picked it up the paw and put it on a shelf, thinking nothing more of it.

"At home the next day, Mister White and his wife were having dinner. Their son was late, and they were worried, since they hadn't heard anything from him at all. It wasn't like him to be late without telling them.

"There was a knock at the front door, and they were relieved, thinking it was their son. Mister White answered the door, and saw a solemn man waiting to address them.

"The man had come to inform them of a terrible accident at the factory their son worked at. Their son had been crushed when a metal container broke loose and fell on him.

"Mister and Misses White couldn't believe the story; it had to have been a lie. Then the man told them there was an insurance policy for every member of the factory to be paid to the worker's beneficiaries. It was in the amount of . . . twenty-thousand dollars."

Cassandra, Angelica and Katrina gulped in shock.

"After the funeral for their dear son, they didn't know what to do. Mister White felt responsible, as what they received was the exact amount that he had wished for. But without their son, paying off their house was meaningless.

"That evening, in a fit of despair, Misses White took the monkey's paw from off the shelf her husband had left it on.

"Mister White, knowing what she was going to do, tried to reason with her, but to no avail. She made the wish that her son was alive again.

"But nothing happened. She tossed it on the ground, lamenting that her wish wouldn't come true. They sat in silence for some time in the living room, trying to come to terms with what had happened to their son, and how they would go on with their lives.

"All of the sudden, there was a slow knock at the door."

Ken knocked on the wall next to him for added effect.

"They wondered what it could be, when Misses White realized what it was: it was their son. It could be nothing else.

"She was ready to go and greet him, when her husband attempted to stop her. He knew that if their son was brought back to life, he would look nothing like the son they had loved. His body wasn't shown at the funeral due to the wounds his body suffered.

"She struggled with him, summoning the strength to push him aside, and headed for the door. All Mister White could do was take up the monkey's paw once more and, for the sake of his wife's sanity, used the third and final wish as his wife opened the door.

"Opening the door, she found nothing there but the cold wind of the night."

Angelica and Katrina were scared. "That was so . . . creepy."

Cassandra shook her head. "You all are . . . such babies. That . . . wasn't scary."

Anyone with half a brain and at least one eye knew that she was lying through her teeth.

"The story doesn't end there," Ken said in a deadly serious tone. "Shortly afterward, the White family moved away. When I was younger, I stopped by their empty house. The front door was unlocked, and I went in. You'll never guess what I found."

He went to the cabinet Katrina lived on, opened a door near the lowest part of the unit, and pulled out a shoe box.

"No . . . way . . ." Katrina gasped.

Ken showed the box toward the three of his most frightened tenants.

"Care to make a wish?" he asked, opening the box.

There it was: a small, mummified, monkey's paw.

And that was it for Angelica, Cassandra and Katrina. They let out screams that could shatter glass on a continent across the ocean, and with a vapor trail and speed that rivaled Olympic runners, disappeared into their rooms.

Ken could only laugh.

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Boring!" she announced.

Sasha clapped and smiled. "That was a really creepy story!"

"I love telling it," Ken laughed. "It never fails to creep people out, especially when I bring the box out."

"Did you come up with it?"

"Not at all. It's a made-up story written by a gentleman with the last name of Jacobs. I'm not sure what his first name is. He wrote it in the early nineteen-hundreds in Great Britain. I made a couple of additions, but I can't claim credit for the story."

He noticed Alisa standing in the corner of the living room, away from everyone.

"Alisa, you don't have to be so scared."

She took a step forward toward Ken. "Don't make any wishes on that. Think of what happened to Mister and Misses White."

"Alisa, the story was fiction. It's made up. And this paw is just paper mache. I made it in junior high school."

"Just . . . don't make any wishes on it," she said with a really concerned look.

Giving up, he simply nodded, adding an "Okay" to humor her.

* * *

Halloween came without incident: no combat, issues, problems . . . not even a sneeze from Ken nor his tenants.

He brought the box of small candy bags outside and put it on the back of the car. He also brought out chairs for everyone.

Cassandra shivered and rubbed her arms. "It's kind of cold out."

"Get a jacket from the closet. Didn't you bring one from home?"

"No. When does this start?"

"It starts at six, and ends at eight."

"Shouldn't we wait inside?" Natalia wondered.

"Outside is easier."

"It's almost six!" Katrina shouted.

A few minutes later, they could hear the sounds of children of various ages from down the street.

Halloween had officially begun in their area.

While his tenants had forgone costumes, the children of the neighborhood were dressed as ghosts, some princesses, a few zombies, a couple vampires, a handful of cheerleaders, and a number of ninjas.

"Trick or Treat!" was the phrase of the evening.

Smiles from his tenants were many and frequent, seeing the children from toddlers all the way up to junior high school dressed up.

Ken's tenants were a big hit. Angelica was instantly recognizable, and the children and parents commented on her wings, thinking they were part of a costume. Sasha had to keep telling people that her maid outfit was her uniform, and not a costume. Katrina was the cutest attraction of the evening, because of her size.

When it got around that she and the tenants were otherworlders, they had a line of people wanting to see them. Almost everyone who came were surprised that they were so ordinary and not that different looking than any other person on Earth.

Near eight o'clock, the children all but disappeared. There were still a few bags of candy left.

The last child left, and they waited for a little while longer for stragglers, but no one else showed up. As they cleaned up, Angelica sighed.

"Something wrong?"

"It seemed to end so fast."

"There's always next year."

"Do we have to take down the decorations already?" Cassandra asked.

"We can leave them up for a few more days."

As they cleaned up the furniture, a handkerchief floated in air in front of Ken.

"Boo!" it said.

"You forgot the eye holes again."

"No I didn't."

The handkerchief moved like a shirt that was being turned around while still being worn. Once finished, two cute eyes looked out from holes in the handkerchief.

"See?"

"Yeah. Too bad Halloween's over. Try again next year."

"Boo . . ." the ghost whined, sadly.

* * *

Ken brought a basket of clean laundry to the living room—

—and found Katrina lying on a pile of candy wrappers.

"I can't eat anymore . . ." she moaned, punctuating it with a burp.

"Great Scott! What did you do!?"

"It seemed to be a waste to leave all that candy around, so . . ."

"So . . . ?

"I ate it all."

"How much?"

"A quarter of that box."

"A quarter . . . !? Where did you put it all!?"

"In places I didn't know I had . . ."

Ken shook his head. "You little dummy. The candy would have kept for a couple of months."

Not being able to move on her own, Ken picked her up and stood on a step stool next to the cabinet so he could reach her living area. He put her into her bed, and pulled the covers over her.

"I take it you're not going to eat that much again, are you?"

"Never again . . ." she promised, and burped again.

### Pumpkin Croquettes

Serves Four

1/2 lb. minced pork, 1 tbsp. liquid cream (or cream used in coffee),

1-1/3 lbs. pumpkin, 1 tsp. salt, One-half round onion, pinch of pepper,

1 tbsp. butter

Coating

a generous amount of flour, whipped egg, breadcrumbs

Garnishing:

2 leaves of cabbage, 1 whole tomato, cooking oil to taste

(1) Remove the skin of the pumpkin, and cut into bite-sized pieces. Boil until soft and drain. Mash well while hot, then let cool.

(2) Dice the onion, then lightly sauté with the pork and butter in a frying pan. Let cool.

(3) Combine the ingredients from (1) and (2), adding the cream, salt and pepper, forming 12 patties. Create the coating by first covering in flour (dusting the rest off), egg and bread crumbs, then drop in 170-degree cooking oil until medium brown.

(4) To create the garnishing, slice the cabbage, cut the tomato into eight sections, and serve on a plate with the croquettes.

## Chapter Twelve

Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Interviews!

Ken and Sasha were folding clothes in the living room and watching TV when the phone to the Goldwrite household rang. Ken picked it up and after his greeting, heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Hello, Mister Goldwrite."

"Hi, Amelta. Long time no hear. What do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I'm calling just to remind you the television crew will be doing their interviews next week. Remember we talked briefly about it when your tenants arrived?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Good! I told the station that Saturday would be good for you, but I wanted to confirm it with you."

"It doesn't look like it will be a problem. What kind of interviews are they going to be?"

"They're going to ask your tenants about what they think of Earth. Then they'll ask you for your opinion of your tenants."

"Got it."

"Good! It's going to be a special broadcast with some interviews of otherworlders that live in the tri-state area. The interviewer will be coming the day before just to get a feel for things."

"Well then, see you next week," she said, and then hung up the phone.

Sasha picked up a shirt and started folding it. "What was that about?"

Ken picked up a pair of jeans and did the same. "A television crew is coming by and doing interviews of all of you here. They want to hear what you think about Earth."

"Why's that?"

"Because Earthlings want to know about other people's lives. I remember my parents talked about a boom of something called 'reality television' when I was younger. I was too young to remember television back then, but I recall they said they were glad when the television stations got out of that rut."

* * *

"Television interviews?" Natalia asked.

Ken found the best time to get them all together and talk was during dinner.

"Yes. I guess they're going to ask you all about your time here on Earth and what you think about it. They'll be coming next week on Saturday. Have you done any interviews before?"

"Very rarely. They had a program where they wanted to know about the lives of the families of corporate leaders."

"I heard there used to be a show like that here on Earth. They would go to the homes of rich people and show you what kind of houses they had and what they had in them. I think it was called 'Lives of the Rich and Famous'."

"Something like that."

"We've only been here a little while," Alisa concluded. "Isn't it a little too early?"

Ken shrugged. "I think so, too, but what's the harm?"

Katrina hopped up and down in her seat. "Are we really going to be on TV!?"

"It sure looks like it. You seem excited about it."

"I am!"

Ken cleared his throat. "I trust everyone is going to be kind when you respond to the questions. And, well, I think you all know that you shouldn't say anything about all this time traveling stuff, and especially nothing about Silver."

"That goes without saying," Natalia said after swallowing her bite of food. "After all, who'd believe us?"

* * *

The following Friday, the interviewer arrived, a young, attractive woman with curly hair by the name of Sophia Carwell. She rang the doorbell.

Cassandra answered the door. "Yes?"

Sophia noticed Cassandra's eyes, blinked in surprise, and then regained her composure. "Is . . . Mister Goldwrite here? I'm here by word of Amelta Tayon."

"He's making dinner. Come in."

She stepped inside the door and waited. Cassandra went to fetch Ken, and he returned to greet her from the top of the stairs. "We've been expecting you. Come on up. Coffee?"

"I'd appreciate it," she replied, walking up the stairs. She sat in the living room, and Sasha brought out coffee, and then went back into the kitchen to make dinner.

When Sophia saw Sasha in her maid uniform, she threw Ken a skeptical glance.

He threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, don't look at me. She dresses how she wants."

"I see. I don't want to take up too much of your time this evening since I will also be coming by tomorrow," she said, pulling a notepad out of her handbag. "I'd just like to ask a few questions on the background here."

"Sure."

"Why did you get involved in the program?"

"There was no particular reason. It seemed to be the thing to do . . . I think."

"That's it?"

"I'm not sure. I'll try and think of a better reason for it."

"You'll be interviewed tomorrow, so do give it some thought."

"I'll give it a shot."

Sophia looked around. "You have a big house. Amelta said there are six tenants here. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Who are they?"

"Let's see. There's Alisa and Cassandra, who are going to college. You just saw Sasha, and she does work around the house. Angelica is working as a nurse at a local hospital. Katrina is working on a project right now on top of her cabinet. And then there's Natalia, who is working to make contacts for her father's company."

Sophia took notes as he talked.

"I just need to make sure I have enough time to interview them. Just to confirm, tomorrow is fine, right?"

"Everyone should be home, so no problems here."

Sophia smiled. "This will certainly be interesting."

"Not as much as living here," Ken quipped.

* * *

The television crew arrived at ten o'clock the next morning, which consisted of Sophia and three staff to set up, take care of the cameras, and address any technical problems.

"How about we use the living room? Would it be a problem to move the furniture so we can have chairs facing each other?" Sophia asked.

Ken shook his head. "As long as you put them back how you found them."

"Deal."

By the time the crew set up, it was near lunch time, so Ken and Sasha made sandwiches and coffee for everyone, including the television crew.

They ate, and once done, Sophia selected the order for the interviews. Ken wasn't allowed to watch the interviews so his tenants would be a little more candid, so he went outside to putter around in the back yard. Before he did, he asked his tenants one more time to be truthful, but gentle.

* * *

Two hours later, after Ken had finished his own interview as the last on the list, the crew broke down the equipment. Sophia finished up a number of notes, and was ready to leave.

She shook his hand. "Thank you, Mister Goldwrite. It certainly is lively here."

"You've done interviews at other places, right? Aren't the other visitors as, um, 'interesting'?"

Sophia shook her head. "There are a few who are as energetic, but no one as unique as here. Maybe it's because of the make-up of the house. After all, you have the most visitors staying with you. The most I've seen at another house is two. I must say your tenants are a step above the others I've interviewed."

"Wow."

Sophia laughed heartily. "Frankly, I'm wondering how you survived so far. I've got two kids of my own, but I can't even begin to imagine six kids in the same house."

"I try to take it day by day."

Sophia put her things into her handbag. "Let's see. This should be going on-air next Saturday. If there are any delays, I'll let you know."

"I'll be looking forward to it . . . I think."

"You think?" she asked, confused.

"I didn't see the interviews, so I'm kind of nervous about what they said."

Sophia smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about that. You'd be surprised at what they were candid with."

"Uh-oh," he said with a look of gloom.

"See you around, Mister Goldwrite. I hope to have an update interview some time in the future."

"Take care."

* * *

The evening the interviews were to debut, Ken made popcorn for everyone.

"Okay everyone, the show is about to start!"

He went to each of their rooms to remind them to come and watch it.

They gathered in the living room, turned to the channel and the program started shortly thereafter.

* * *

Sophia was in a studio, standing next to a globe of the Earth about half her size.

"Good evening to our viewers at home. Our special broadcast this evening is about visitors from afar. It has been five years since we were shown we were not alone in the universe.

"In the interests of goodwill between planets in the Entine Republic, Earth has become involved in an exchange program. Otherworlders – or visitors – have been staying in our fair area, living in ways that aren't so different than anyone else on our planet: working, studying and learning about Earth.

"Tonight we'll be looking at some of our guests and how they're adjusting to life on our little planet."

* * *

There were six other otherworlders in the greater area. All were human-looking: some were short, but not as small as Katrina, and one gentleman looked like he was a bodybuilder. Most had jobs, one played sports, and the rest, like Cassandra and Alisa, were studying at a college.

They weren't so different than Ken's tenants in their outlook: originally a little unsure of how their experiences would turn out, but even in the short time on Earth, they found their place, and each day they learned more about the small blue marble in a secluded area of the universe they lived on. A new world, new surroundings, and new adventures.

The first hour ended, and Ken's tenants hadn't been featured.

That changed when the final commercial break ended.

* * *

Sophia was once again shown in the studio with the large globe.

"Now for our most unique group of otherworlders. We've featured visitors that were one or two to a residence, but for our final piece, there are, believe it or not, six in one house."

("Is she talking about us?" Katrina asked.)

("Undoubtedly," Ken replied.)

("Quiet!" Natalia said. "We can't hear the program!")

"Kenaeth, living in the suburbs, opened his house to those from many other planets."

The scene switched to the interior of Ken's house, Sophia sitting in a chair across from Ken.

"Mister Goldwrite, why did you decide to open your home?"

Ken looked around at the living room, then back at Sophia. "I have a big house, and it seemed a little too empty. So, when I was offered a chance, I filled out an application. I honestly didn't think anything would come of it."

"Did you have any idea how many would be coming?"

"Not a clue! At first there were five, and then one arrived later."

("Is she talking about Sasha?" Katrina wondered.)

("Quiet!" Natalia ordered, again.)

"The first of his tenants is Alisa Maestral, from the planet Kodominé. She's studying electronics at a local university.

"What do you think of Earth?"

"It's quiet. My classes seem to be interesting, and things aren't as different as my home planet."

"What about the other tenants?"

"They seem diligent and level headed. I think that we all get along well."

"What about your landlord?"

"Parental material."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's hard not to think of Kenaeth as anything other than a father figure while I'm staying here. His cooking is uncommonly good."

"Is there anything you're trying to accomplish in the short term?"

"Build a BT-BT."

("And I still am," Alisa remarked.)

("Is anyone at college helping you?" Ken asked.)

("No.")

"The second of Kenaeth's tenants is Natalia Greentyme, from the planet Forshe. Her father is the head of a cosmetics company.

"Why come to Earth?"

"My father is always looking for new places to expand his business, and new markets to introduce Greentyme products to. When Earth entered the Republic, he immediately got things in motion to scout this new planet and see if it was a viable location. That's why I'm here."

"Any luck?"

"I've made a number of contacts. It's up to him to see if this is one of the places he wishes to open up to."

"What do you think of your fellow tenants here?"

"They are certainly an interesting group. I will say that things are not entirely what I'm used to. I have a much larger house than this one. Business is also conducted on a completely different level than on Forshe."

"How so?"

"From what I've gathered, creating contacts is more interpersonal on Earth. On Forshe, both sides simply present what they have to offer, and what they intend to receive in the deal. There isn't any, as you might say, 'wining and dining'."

"And what do you think of your landlord?"

"High strung, to say the least. I think his personality matches the tenants in this house, but hard as I try, I can't put my finger on why I think that."

(Ken turned to Natalia. "Thanks . . . I think.")

"Our third guest is Sasha Redford from the planet Koriri. As you can see, she has a defining feature you can see immediately.

"You're pink."

Sasha nodded nervously. "Yes. It's the standard skin color on Koriri."

"Has anyone reacted oddly to it?"

"I think at first. But . . . Earthlings have seen otherworlders on television before, so I think they were just surprised to see me, not because of my skin color."

"Are there other biological differences from humans?"

"I know Earthlings need seven to eight hours of sleep. Koririans only need four to five."

"What do you do here?"

"Housekeeping."

"Housekeeping?"

"Yes. Housekeeping, food preparation, laundry and other domestic tasks have been in my background for years. I entered the program for a new start and opportunities. I jumped at the chance when I was offered."

"Do you always wear a maid uniform?"

"Most of the time. I've been wearing clothing like this for years. Ken . . . I mean Kenaeth told me I don't have to wear it, but this way seems more natural. And my fellow tenants don't seem to mind."

"Speaking of which, what do you think of the other tenants?"

"There's a new adventure with them every day. I really do enjoy being here."

"What about your landlord?"

"He's been unexpectedly kind to me. He . . . went out on a limb for me, so I'm doing the best I can. I'm very grateful to him."

("Awww, that's so sweet," Katrina said.)

(Sasha turned red. "Oh, geez . . .")

"The fourth visitor is arguably the most visually stunning of Kenaeth's tenants. Angelica Elegance is from the planet Falldine."

The camera was focused on Angelica. Then it pulled back, showing her wings.

"You . . . have wings," Sophia said with a smile.

"Yes, I do."

"Does everyone on Falldine have wings?"

"Oh, yes. It's our signature trait."

"I'm sure that, with your name and wings—"

"—people think I'm what you might call an 'angel'?"

"I thought I was the interviewer here," Sophia laughed.

"My apologies."

"So, are you an angel?"

"Oh my, no. I'm just a person with wings. I wasn't too familiar with the concept of an angel before I arrived here, but I've studied and I can see where people would get the idea that I am one."

"What do you do here on Earth?"

"I'm a nurse in pediatrics."

Sophia smiled. "The kids must love you."

"Yes, they do. I have to watch myself around really young children, or they'd pluck my wings bald," Angelica giggled.

"What do you think of Earth? Is there any particular reason you came?"

"I think Earth is a nice place. When they made an announcement about going to a new planet in the Republic, it was worth a shot. I think everyone here wanted a change of pace and experience something new. I'm no different."

"What about your fellow tenants?"

"They're all cute in their own way. I'm glad I'm here."

"What about your landlord?"

"He'd look a lot better with wings."

("Really?" Ken asked Angelica.)

("Of course," she nodded.)

"Ken's fifth tenant is Cassandra Pyredom from the planet Talsenia. She carries around something most people don't in this day and age.

"It's a sword."

"Yes, specifically what you would called a 'saber'. My mother gave it to me."

"Do you carry it everywhere?"

"Yes. It's force of habit. Most females on Talsenia carry one."

"How are things here on Earth? Is there anything different, as in adjustments to make?"

"Talsenia's culture is influenced by the military, so there's more rigid discipline there than here. It's also more patriarchal on Earth. But at this house, things are a little more like 'home'."

"What about the other tenants?"

"They're, in a word, fun. We're like sisters. I'm an only child, so it's something I hadn't really experienced before."

"What about your landlord?"

"Kenaeth? He reminds me of my father, since Talsenia men are the ones who take care of home, like cooking, cleaning and laundry."

"What did you come to Earth for?"

"I have an interest in languages, so I'm studying linguistics at the same college as Alisa."

"And that brings us to the littlest of the tenants."

("Who is she talking about?" Katrina asked.)

("Who do you think is the littlest of the people living in this house!?" Ken said.)

The camera rested on the coffee table, where a small Victorian chair was. An empty Victorian chair.

From off screen, Katrina was heard. "Am I really going to be on TV? Is this really a video camera?"

Katrina's face appeared on screen – upside down. She must have been sitting on the camera.

"Hey, Mister Cameraman. Do you like your job?"

A voice from off camera said, "It pays the bills."

"Miss Faerblood, how about our interview?" Sophia said from off-camera.

"Oh, right!"

She flew to the coffee table and sat down in the chair.

"That's right. Katrina Faerblood, from the planet Betlin, is only about a foot tall," Sophia said as a voice-over.

"You are very cute."

Katrina shifted shyly in her seat. "Thank you, but you'll make me blush."

"What do you do here, Katrina?"

"I measure time, gravity and space fluctuations in this area."

"That sounds really scientific."

"It is! I collect the data and send it off to scientists on my home planet."

"What do you think of the other tenants?"

"I thought it'd be a little scary, since I knew everyone would be bigger than me. But everyone's really nice to me."

"What about Ken?"

"Ken's like my big brother, and he takes care of everyone. And he always lets me ride on his head."

"Do you like it here?"

Katrina beamed a big smile. "Yeah! It's like we're a family here, which makes being away from home a lot easier."

"Do you do anything else?"

"I help out with a store, for clothes and items. As you can see, it's kind of hard to find clothes in my size."

"Are you glad you came?"

"Yep!"

The scene went back to Ken, sitting in a chair in the living room. Sophia once again did a voice over. "Back to the landlord, Kenaeth Goldwrite. The tenants have been here about two months. What does he think of them overall?"

Ken folded his arms and mulled the question, and then finally came up with his answer.

"They're a bunch of screwballs."

("Hey!" his tenants yelled at him.)

(Ken simply pointed to the TV for them to keep watching.)

He smiled and gave a Sophia a warm look. "But, you know what? I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have in my home."

* * * * *

Ken was sitting in the living room, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. Cassandra came from her room into the living room, carrying a novel.

Ken glanced back and saw her. "Hey, Cassandra," he said, and went back to his newspaper.

"Ken, I have a language question."

Ken stopped, dreading at what might be coming next. After all, he wasn't really expecting to answer questions like Katrina and Alisa had. So, to make sure he wasn't going to lose his mental stability even further, he had to confirm something.

"Stop right there," he ordered.

"Huh? What?"

"You're not going to ask me anything about 'buck,' or 'buck naked,' or 'nekkid' or anything else about being nude, right?"

Cassandra was really confused. "I don't think so. Why in the world would you think I'd ask anything like that?"

Ken, satisfied that a normal question was coming, just shook his head. "Oh, no reason. What's your question?"

"I've been looking through some books, and I came across a term I'm not familiar with, so I thought you could explain it to me."

"What is it?"

She opened the novel to a bookmarked page and looked for the term. Finding it, she asked "What's a 'birthday suit'?"

Ken fainted.

THE

CHAOS

WILL

CONTINUE . . .

## Afterword

"Chaos in the midst of chaos isn't funny, but chaos in the midst of order is."

~ Steve Martin

I had to look up that quote. It seemed appropriate enough for this book.

That being said, hello everyone. Edo-chan here.

Well, you hold in your hands my first novel from an overactive imagination.

Truth be told, this novel wasn't the first one that I wanted to write and release. The plan (and everyone has plans that follow through perfectly) was to finish writing one about how all the aliens first showed up on Earth. Near the beginning of this book, Ken reflects on the fact that a teenager went up into space. That was supposed to be the first one.

And I went about half way through the first draft of that story . . . and then I got the idea for a slapstick action comedy. The result of that idea is the book you're holding. I'll get to the other one eventually; while this one is fun to write, the other is interesting to write. But that's a story (literally) for another time.

Most of the overall situations, such as driving and Halloween, were planned out, but the chapters were written as the pen moved me. Yes, the old-fashioned pen. I find I'm able to write more if I put the story down on paper first instead of typing it. It certainly isn't efficient since I had to type it anyway, but let's ignore that little incongruity shall we?

Action, comedy, mystery and a bit of dark drama.

The two recipes in this book are not of my own design. They are from my Yokoshiba Cooking School text, and noted here so that I don't claim anything that isn't mine.

I hope you enjoyed reading through the first volume. The series shall continue, so I hope you pick up the second book when it comes out in the future!

—Edo-chan

