Simon, the female one, realized that she had to reach up to the handle of the sliding glass door that opened from the patio into her apartment. “The heck is this? Habib, you not only turned me into a girl, you made me short!”

She measured herself against the frame and estimated her height. “Being only five feet tall is not a superpower, Habib!” she fumed, reaching again for the door handle.

* * *

Inside, the other Simon was asking, “What’s the word for a female djinn?”

Habib, the female one, said, “Djirini. Someone is outside calling my name.”

“Your name? Who knows your name?” Simon turned and looked but he had automatically closed the drape when he carried Habib inside; something about having a naked woman in his apartment made him cautious about privacy, perhaps. Well, she had one of his shirts on, now, so....

He moved to open the door, saying at the same time. “I can’t keep calling you Habib, isn’t that a guy’s name? What’s the Persian female version? Habibeh?”

“Please don’t call me that!” Habib protested. “Habib means friend, Habibeh means fiancée!”

Simon paused for a moment, started to turn back but a noise came from the door, so he pulled back the drape and slid the door open at the same time, just as the female Simon outside the door tried to do the same.

They stood there looking at each other in astonishment for a moment; one -- very tall, male, and wearing clothes that seemed a bit small for him; the other -- little, female, stacked and naked.

“Dad?” said the shorter of the two Simons. “You look like my dad....”

* * *

Wilson Courage had never expected to end up a member of the police department of Tacoma. His college major had been in Art with a minor in Business Administration, strictly as a fallback. But he’d been recruited as a staff artist for the department and had gone back to school to get a credential in Law Enforcement.

Then he’d found out that no one got promoted above Officer First without time on the streets, so he’d spent six months as a beat patrolman then two years in a squad car, taken the sergeant’s exam and passed with a nearly embarrassing 100%. He still did I.D. art when the department needed it and had a desk in the Detective’s Office downtown, complete with computer and all the drawing software he needed.

That’s where he found out that no one made Lieutenant without time in the detective squad. He’d put in for a transfer to the detective squad last December and it had finally come through, along with a promotion to Detective Sergeant Third. His art desk became his permanent desk in the detective office, with a smaller desk alongside for a phone and a computer.

Tacoma wasn’t a big city, just a middling large one, so they only had one detective squad, commanded by Captain Vance Andrews and Lieutenant Marjorie Ullersen. Both of them were standing near his desk when he arrived that April morning. Andrews was OIC of Downtown Division on weekends and Ullersen was CO of the Detective Squad and Wilson’s new boss.

“Seems funny to say welcome when you’ve been hanging out here for almost a year,” said the Loot. “But I guess I can say, ‘Welcome, Sergeant Courage!’ at least.”

Wilson grinned. He’d sewn the sergeant stripes onto his uniform only that morning. Not that he was wearing his police uniform today, as a detective he would normally be in plainclothes now.

Captain Andrews laughed. “Our new sergeant is an ambitious lad, Marje. Have you seen the webcomic he works on when he thinks no one is looking?” Andrews was a large man, nearing forty, with big hands, dark skin and a receding hairline in front of his mini-Afro.

Marje nodded. “It’s called ‘Captain Courage,’ right? But maybe you’re bucking for my job since I think the character is a policewoman?” She grinned. A tall blond woman with piercing blue eyes that still had a twinkle after ten years of police work, Lt. Ullersen reminded Wilson of a Valkyrie from Norse Legend. Department legend was that she had been a part-time member of GLoW, Glamours Ladies of Wrestling, in her college days.

“Ah, yes, ma’am,” he said. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had modeled his webcomic character after the lieutenant, disguising her with red hair instead of blond. He tried to change the subject quickly, afraid that one of the two would ask to see some of his artwork. “Have you got an assignment for me, today?”

“What do you think, Skip?” Ullersen asked Andrews. “Break the new guy in easy?”

The captain grinned as if what Ullersen had said was funny. “Sure, sure,” he agreed.

Marje nodded. “You’re on ride-around with Sergeant Murrows, all this week, Courage.”

Wilson winced and his two superiors chuckled. Abel Murrows was senior sergeant on the Detective Squad and a bit of a grump. But at least it gave him an excuse to get moving and avoid any further interrogation.

He’d just got down to the parking garage and turned up his raincoat’s hoodie against the drizzle when he saw Sergeant Murrows talking on the phone in a plainwrap cruiser. He hurried toward the car wondering what his first detective assignment would be like.

* * *

“You look like my dad, but you’re not, are you?” the naked girl at the door said to Simon.

“Uh, no, miss, I don’t think I am...” he trailed off. Talking to two naked women in one day made it a very unusual day. This one looked young enough to be a daughter of his, if he had ever had a daughter but as far as he knew, he had not. She even has a vague sort of family look, except that she was so short.

“You’re Simon Paul, aren’t you?” asked the girl, pushing wet strands of hair out of her face. Moving her arms up to do that sort of pushed her rather large chest into more prominent display.

Simon glanced away, his face turning red, just as Habib came up beside him. “Uh, yes, yes, I am, Simon Paul, and uh, this is my apartment. Um, do you need to come in and… and call someone? I think I can find something for you to wear.” He stepped aside.

Blinking, the girl stepped inside, dripping a bit on the doormat. She stared at Habib wearing an oversize dress shirt. “If you’re Simon, who’s this baked goods?”

“Pardon me?” Simon yelped, surprised at the girl’s rudeness. Despite it being mid-afternoon, the overcast day and the roof of the patio had made it rather dark outside. Seen in the interior light, she had a truly astonishing figure and Simon looked away again, swallowing hard. “Th-that’s not a very nice thing to say!” Baked goods? Had she said baked goods?

“It’s all right,” said Habib. “You can call me... Roxanna, I guess. Which....” She trailed off, staring at the girl.

“Huh,” said the tall man and the short girl at the same time.

Simon shook his head, startled into looking at her again. “Let me... look for something for you to wear,” He stammered and headed for the closet.

Roxanna, or Habib, headed for the bathroom. “You’ll need something to wrap up all that hair,” she said. “I’ll find you a towel.”

“I suppose,” said the girl. She looked very downhearted and sank slowly until she sat on the rug in front of the door. She glanced down at herself and frowned, sort of swatting with one hand at her breasts and feeling behind her with the other one. “It’s like a... fahrfegnugen pillow back there,” she muttered.

“You didn’t tell us your name,” said Roxanna, returning more quickly. She knelt beside the girl and offered the big, fluffy green bath towel.

“If he’s Simon,” she muttered, “...I guess... I guess, I don’t know who the jam I am.”

Roxanna leaned in close and whispered. “I think I know who you are.... Simone?”

The girl looked up startled, her blue eyes wide.

Roxanna pointed at herself. “I’m Habib,” she said.

Simon came back into the room carrying a light blue t-shirt with a Superman logo on it. “Uh, this is a bit small on me, maybe you can wear it as a dress?”

The girl’s gaze snapped to him. “A candy-striped dress?” she yelped.

“Well, uh, no,” said Simon. “That’s a Superman logo....” He trailed off, confused.

Habib, or Roxanna, dropped the big green towel over the girl’s head. She held a hand out for the t-shirt and motioned that Simon should leave the room

With some relief, he did, even closing the door behind him.

“What’s the big fudge delight?” asked the girl under the towel.

* * *

Three amateur astronomers in different places all spotted Earth’s new companion about the same time. Later, they would all three be asked to suggest a name to be bestowed by the proper astronomical authorities. The Persian offered Mehrzad, meaning child of the sun because of the object’s brilliance. The Scot suggested Emeraldine because of it’s gorgeous green color.

And the American wanted it named Krypton, meaning hidden, because where had it been all this time that no one had ever seen it before?

Image credit: mariyaermolaeva / 123RF Stock Photo