Maximum Warp
Chapter 10: Power Play

“Is your internet tap active?” I asked Ensign Worm. Justin, Janet and I were still on the alien’s ship, in the area they had made to look like the Bridge of Kirk’s Enterprise.

“Affirmative.” As always, his flat affect served to remind me that, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, Worm isn’t human.

“I need to call a man who works in the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. His name is Earl Grant.”

Worm looked at my phone, then looked at me. “Your communicator works not?”

“It works; I don’t have his phone number. And you don’t want to see what happens if I try to use Siri to help me find it.”

The Spock/Bill Nye wannabe at the Science Station stopped fiddling with dials and faced me, chittering something. Siri eventually translated. “There is no record of the Department employing anyone by that name.”

I looked at Janet, confused. “I’m sure that’s what he said his name was. Did I get it wrong?”

Janet shook her head. “I heard him too. And Knight.”

Justin looked at Janet, then me. “Night?” What’s night got to do with it?”

“Not ‘night,’ ‘knight.’” As soon as I said it, I realized how unhelpful it was.

Janet, of course, was up to the task. “Ya know – as in, ‘you silly English kinniggits!’”

“Oh, right. ‘Knight.’” Justin said. “But, why knights?”

“’Cuz maidens need rescuin’?” Janet replied, puckishly.

“Maidens?” Justin was looking even more bewildered.

I decided to stop the fun before our hosts decided our species wasn’t really sentient after all. “Wayne Knight. Not a title; just a name.”

“Ah,” said Worm, nodding knowingly. “Like Freddie Mercury.”

“Yeah. Nothin’ to do with the planet,” Janet agreed.

Justin shook his head, bemused. “What was going on down there? I thought Officer Wolf was executing a search warrant.”

“Well, that too,” Janet said. “It was kinda busy there for a bit.”

“I guess,” Justin said. “Who’s Knight?”

“Treasury. Wanted to ask about my bank withdrawals.”

“Why would the feds care about your withdrawals?” Justin looked perplexed.

“Well . . . you know Treasury’s notified of cash withdrawals over $10,000?”

“Of course.”

“I took out more’n that,” Janet said.

“How much more?” Justin asked, looking concerned.

“$165,000, more’r less.” Janet was attempting to project an air of nonchalance.

“In cash?” Justin exclaimed. “That’s a bit much for a car; a bit light for a house. Are you planning a trip? Maybe a long trip?”

The Elder in the center seat chittered. Translated, he said, “We are concerned. Has Professor Seldon violated the law?”

“Hell, no!” Janet said.

“The Professor is correct,” Justin said. “You can take your money out of your bank any time – just, a certain amount will raise alarm bells.”

“And, Officer Wolf was only investigating the disappearance of James Wainwright.” I said.

“You disappeared?” Worm asked.

“Of course not,” I said. “But they don’t know that.”

The Elder chittered. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I did tell them. People don’t believe it, Elder. I don’t think even Justin believed – not until he saw you beam up to your ship.”

“In my defense,” Justin began.

His new client’s chittering cut him off. “I thought humans listened to people who were young and aesthetically correct?”

“I knew proportions wrong were,” Worm said.

“I promise you,” Justin interjected, “That isn’t the problem.”

“Why thank you, young man,” I said to Justin with a smile and a flutter of my eyelashes. Then I said to the Elder, “They might listen to me about some things, but they won’t believe that I’m James Wainwright. Your shot was far beyond our capabilities.”

Science guy started chittering again. He went on for a while before Siri translated. “We have monitored incoming and outgoing transmissions from the communications devices carried by the three individuals who were present at the location from which we initiated beam-up procedures for Jessica James and Professor Seldon. Our monitoring allows us also to determine the identifying numbers for their communications devices.”

Well that was certainly interesting! “What are the identifying numbers?”

Through Siri, he responded, “2128756921, 4132578541, and 2023742209.”

“The 413 number is obviously Wolf,” Janet said. “Isn’t 212 New York City?”

“And 202 is D.C.,” I said, agreeing. I asked the aliens, “Do you have the ability to correlate the unique identifying numbers to the names of individuals?”

“If the information available through your ‘internet,’ is, yes,” Worm replied.

“Can you try to determine the names attached to the numbers beginning with ‘212’ and ‘202’?”

Science guy fiddled with dials for a few minutes before replying. “We have no reliable information on the 212 number. The 202 number is associated with a human who is in the database of employees for the Department of Homeland Security, reporting to someone identified as the ‘Undersecretary for Science and Technology.’”

“That must be our man,” I said. “What’s his name?”

“It is listed in the database as ‘Grant, Dukkov.’”

“Well . . . close enough, I guess?” I said.

“No wonder he was so abrasive,” Janet said. “Horrible parents, givin’ him a name like that!”

That seemed a bit culturally insensitive to me. “‘Slavic’ isn’t the same as ‘cruel,’ Janet.”

“It is, if he’s goin’ around usin’ his middle name,” Janet replied.

Justin’s eyes crossed. “Oh! Yeah, that is evil. Dreadful parents!”

“We do not this understand,” Worm interjected.

“It’s unimportant,” I assured him. “Just another example of human ‘humor.’ Some of which is pretty low, honestly.”

“Humor elevation has?” he inquired. Worm is a curious creature in more ways than one.

“Difficult to explain,” I said. “But for now, I think we may have what we need to get started.” I looked at Janet. “Any thoughts, before I call him?”

“Ideas? Oh, yeah!” Janet got an evil grin on her face. “Call him ‘Dukkov!’”

She was right.

I punched in the number after asking Science Guy to repeat it. After two rings, a wary male voice answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Dukkov Grant?” I asked, in my sweetest voice.

That resulted in a moment’s hesitation. But eventually he responded, “Who is this?”

“Jessica James. Professor Janet Seldon is with me; I understand you wished to speak with her?”

“I want to speak with both of you. But . . . why does your caller ID say “James Wainwright?”

“It’s a long story. Might be relevant to your inquiry. But . . . It’s not something that we want to discuss on an unsecured line.”

He was silent for what seemed like a long time before he replied, “All right. So . . . I assume you know what I want to discuss with you.”

“Would it have something to do with a professor in the Boston area who writes fairy tales with his twin?”

“Wh . . . ah, oh! . . . right. Yes. Correct.” That shouldn’t have been hard!

“Okay. We want to talk to you, too. And to others in your, ah, chain of command. But – and this is very, very important – we will need the meeting to be conducted under the strictest security and the highest level of confidentiality. I promise you, you will want it this way as well.”

“Why?” Grant countered.

How much could I say over an open line? I thought a minute. “Because the owners wish to discuss an exchange of value.”

Another pause, then Grant, equally carefully, said, “For the item?”

“For the know-how,” I said.

Dead silence.

“You’re shitting me?”

“No, sir,” I responded. “So . . . we’ll need to talk to someone in a position to discuss . . . ah . . . something with appropriate return value.”

Another long pause, then he said, “Can I reach you at this number?”

That seemed like . . . kind of a bad idea. The last thing I wanted was for them to try to track me. Especially since I didn’t have any idea where I was likely to be. “No. But if I can reach you at this number, I’ll call back. How long do you need to set something up?”

“Tomorrow, COB,” he responded. “This number is fine.”

“Thank you,” I responded. “I’ll call then.” I ended the call and looked at Janet. “I hope he’s got enough juice to cut through the bureaucratic nonsense.”

“ ’Course he does,” she responded. “Nothing can stop the Duke of Earl!”

“I do not . . . .” Worm began.

“Low humor,” I said, “is Professor Seldon’s specialty.”

* * * * *

Justin returned back to Northampton. Whatever was going on with Officer Wolf and Mr. Knight, they didn’t have anything that would give them cause to give him trouble. Not yet, anyhow. Meantime, he promised to get us some burner phones.

I dropped my own phone from some absurd height above the Connecticut river, followed a few moments later by its SIM Card. I was cheerful as I watched them accelerate away from me at 32 feet per second, per second. “Buh-bye, Siri! So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehn, good-bye . . . .”

Janet and I spent the night in the hold where we had first entered the ship. Our termite hosts made us reasonably comfortable by fabricating some cushions and blankets. It felt safer; Janet’s house might be watched, and at the moment we lacked resources to go elsewhere. We would need to get cash out of the safe deposit box, but without transportation we would spend a lot of time walking around Northampton, and I was looking pretty conspicuous at present.

“If we were in New York,” Janet had said, “People’d barely give your uniform a second look. Plenty of crazy people wandrin’ the streets there. In the Pioneer Valley, though . . . .”

Around 10:00 a.m., Janet got a text from Justin with coordinates for a pickup. The aliens beamed up the box Justin had put together. He sent five burner phones, $4,000 in cash and two sausage & pepper grinders from BBA.

Janet looked at the grinders and grinned. “Marry him, Hon!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I responded thoughtfully. “He should have known that BBA is famous for their kielbasa and sauerkraut. I might hold out for someone with better . . . .”

“Sausage?” Janet interjected before I could finish.

“Janet!!!!”

“What?” She took a bite of her grinder and closed her eyes for a moment of blissful enjoyment. “Damn, I was gettin’ hungry!”

I took a bite myself. And . . . yeah. Hunger’s the best seasoning and all that.

Janet cocked an eyebrow at me. “I know I was kiddin’ and all, but . . . he is kinda cute. And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

I used the excuse of chewing to put off responding to her question.

“C’mon, Jessica,” she said. “Girlfriends gotta dish. It’s one of the benefits – and duties – of bein’ in the club, so to speak.”

“But . . . there’s nothing to ‘dish’ about,” I said defensively. “He’s our lawyer.”

“No,” Janet responded with great precision. “He’s my lawyer. An’ he’s the termite's lawyer. But you kinda specifically left it so that he isn't your lawyer. Thought I missed that?”

I found myself playing with my hair, twisting a long, gold strand around the index finger of my right hand, while I avoided Janet’s scrutiny. “Well, it seemed like I didn’t need a lawyer myself . . . .”

“Uh huh,” Janet said. “Or just maybe you didn’t want him dredgin’ up some super-secret lawyer’s guild rule about non-fraternization or somethin’?”

I twisted the hair tighter, but had no other response.

“Jessica . . . You sure you’re ready for this?”

I decided that my playing stupid wasn’t going to make Janet any dumber. “I don’t know,” I answered quietly.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinkin’?”

I shook my head. “Not sure I’d characterize it as ‘thinking,’ exactly.”

She smiled and sang, “‘With the thoughts you’d be thinkin’, you could be another Lincoln . . . ‘“

I sighed. “‘If I only had a brain.’ Too right, I’m afraid. With the thoughts I'd be thinking, though, I’d be lucky to be another Roman Hruska.”

“Tell me what you’re feelin’, then,” Janet said. “I’m not just bein’ nosy. This is new to you. I might be able to help, and even if I’m not, it might help you to talk about it.”

“I . . . I know. But it’s so hard. I’ve been a guy for sixty years. Sixty years, Janet! And suddenly I’m . . . .” I was having trouble finishing the sentence.

“Not?” Janet offered.

I made an impatient gesture. “Yes. I mean, no, obviously not. But it’s not just that. It’s being . . . .”

Janet decided to be more helpful. “Attracted to guys? Sexually?”

I wanted to say “no.” It was embarrassing – so embarrassing! This was a woman who had been attracted to me, to James Wainwright, even though I’d been too blind to see it. And too timid to do anything about it. My face was burning with shame. But I nodded and whispered, “Yeah.”

I was shocked when Janet pulled me into a hug. “Jess, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Almost without my own volition, I wrapped my arms around her tightly and buried my face into her shoulder. “I’m so confused,” I confessed, suddenly in tears. “I look at Justin, and I want . . . I want . . . .”

Again, I couldn’t say it. Most immediately, I wanted him to kiss me. God, did I want it! And I wanted to kiss him back. I wanted to . . . . Even in the secret recesses of my mind, I couldn’t say the words.

“I know you do, Honey,” Janet was saying. “I know. And it’s perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“But I’m . . . .”

“No, you aren’t, and you know it,” she said, stopping my protest. “I know that my old friend is still in there” – her right hand cupped the back of my head – “And you’re still sharp as New York cheddar. But where love and desire and sex are concerned, it’s been real clear from almost the start that you’re all girl. A very hetero girl, too.”

“I know,” I confessed. “But it doesn’t just feel weird . . . it feels . . .” I didn’t want to say it! But it had to be said. “It feels disloyal. To you.” I continued crying into her shoulder, afraid to look at her.

But she gently pulled back and held me at arm’s length, looking at me with eyes devoid of their usual merriment. “Honey, I’ve had to let James go. It was hard, and I didn’t expect that. After all these years, it’s not like I was expectin’ some sort of epiphany, you know? But I did it. ’Cuz I knew you couldn’t let yourself be Jessica if I was holdin’ you back. Tryin’ to keep you as James.”

“I know I can’t make it right, Janet. But I’d sure like to stop hurting you!”

Janet looked distressed. “Dear God! You’re not becoming . . . earnest?”

That got me. I cracked up.

“Better,” she said. “Listen, girl. I’m not some heartbroken teenager. You know how to make it right! Stop holdin’ on to the person you’ve always been, and let yourself be Jessica. Don’t tie yourself in knots by constantly lookin’ back!”

“But what does that even mean?” I asked, frustrated.

“You can start by understandin’ that there’s nothin’ wrong with being attracted to Justin Abel. Not sayin’ you’ve gotta go out and jump his bones just ’cuz he isn’t your lawyer anymore. In fact, I’d kinda suggest you take it slow. Just . . . stop gettin’ all weird about it. Enjoy it, even.”

I took a deep breath, then another. Slowly, reluctantly, I nodded.

She took another bite of her grinder. “For what it’s worth, I expect his sausage is above average.”

“JANET!!!!”

* * * * *

Our new phones lacked any internet capabilities, so we had to work with the aliens to do some research during the course of the day to prepare for our evening call. We also worked out a way for them to make it appear that our call was originating from another location, just in case someone tried to trace us.

“Where should it look like we’re calling from?” I asked Janet.

“Does it matter?”

I thought about that. “I suppose it might. We don’t want to arouse suspicions. Beijing might be a bad choice, for instance.”

“It’s the U.S. Government,” she responded. “They’re suspicious of everyone.”

I smiled. “How about Madagascar?”

“I like it,” she said. “Exotic, though. What location says, ‘boring?’”

“There’s always North Dakota.”

“I dunno,” she said, ever the contrarian. “They’ve got . . . .”

I waited. Eventually, I coaxed. “Yes?”

“Rushmore?”

I shook my head. “SoDak.”

She shrugged. “Damn, you got me. I can’t think of anything interesting.” To Worm, she said, “You could pick some random wheat field.”

He chittered at the Science Guy, who chittered back and was eventually translated, “Do you want us to pick a wheat field that contains structures for holding weapons-grade uranium?”

“Wait, what?! No!!!” I said.

“Oh, right!” Janet said. “FedEx.”

I looked blank.

“ICBM’s, Jessica. World-wide delivery in half an hour or less, or your next one’s free.”

“Uh huh . . . Maybe not such a good idea.”

“Lennox is cute,” Janet said. “Ya know. Quaint. Ye Olde. Definitely non-threatening.”

“Yeah,” I said, weakly. “Let’s try that. Have the call appear to come from inside the Red Lion Inn. Anyone tracks us, they should at least get some good beer.”

“Only fair,” Janet agreed.

At 5:00 sharp I made the call.

“Grant.”

“This is Jessica James.”

“Are you familiar with Theodore Roosevelt Island?” he asked.

“He had an island?”

“Named after him,” Grant said. “It’s in the middle of the Potomac River, near Georgetown.”

“Oh, okay. You want to meet there?”

“Can you be there tomorrow? Say, 7:00 a.m.?”

“A moment.” I covered the phone and asked Worm, then confirmed the place and time with Grant.

“My boss will be with me,” he said. “Dressed for a morning run. At the base of the statue.”

We ended the call.

“We’ve got a problem,” Janet said.

I was personally thinking we had a whole bunch of them. “Which one?”

“They're gonna show up looking inconspicuous. I could pass as someone about to go for a morning stroll, but . . . .”

“Are you sayin’ my mini dress and go-go boots are impractical?”

“They're practical, girl. For certain, ah, pursuits.”

“Jogging not being among them,” I agreed ruefully. “Especially since our hosts don’t understand underwear.”

Janet snorted. Then giggled. “You might catch a few eyes,” she agreed.

“While we’re listing problems . . . I really need a shower,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about that,” Janet smirked. Then she sighed. “Me, too, bein’ honest. And a change of clothes. Even if these are inconspicuous, I’ve already slept in them.”

I frowned. “We’ve got cash, and I guess we could get clothes. But we can’t get a hotel without an ID. Credit Card too, usually.”

“And won’t that ring alarm bells,” Janet responded.

I thought for a minute. “Ensign Worm,” I asked, “Are you able to determine whether anyone is watching Professor Seldon’s house?”

He looked at me strangely. Strangely even for him, that is. “Why they would watch house? Does it do things?”

“An expression, Ensign. But in this case, it’s possible that authorities might be watching it to see if Professor Seldon returns.”

“Ah. So that Danno can ‘book’ her?”

With the aliens, anything involving rule breaking was always dangerous. “More likely just ask questions that we don’t really want to answer right now. As we have explained – your lawyer, too – neither of us have broken any laws.”

Science Guy, through Siri, said “Many humans have passed near the structure from which we beamed you up. Some in vehicles, some without vehicles. Some being led by members of a quadrupedal species whose level of sentience we have not been able to assess.”

“Plenty smart, dogs,” Janet asserted.

“Not now!” I pleaded.

“So long, and thanks for all the fish!” she said, the devil’s own twinkle firmly back in her eyes.

She was right. I needed to read more, if only to understand half of what she was saying. It was maddening.

Worm looked from one of us to the other. “Should we assessments conduct on ‘dogs?’”

“No,” we both said together, though probably for different reasons.

I added, “Sentient or not, they are not technologically sophisticated, and will not have access to uranium of any kind.”

Science Guy resumed chittering. “How can we determine whether passing humans – or dogs – are ‘watching’ the house instead of just ‘seeing’ it?”

It was a good question, even though the answer would be obvious to most humans. I thought for a minute before responding. “There are a couple of things to look for. First, are any humans remaining in one place, in sight of the house, for more than, say fifteen minutes? Does the same vehicle pass by the house at regular intervals – like, once every hour or two?”

Janet picked up the theme. “Are there any cars on the street painted in a black-and-white pattern, like the one Officer Wolf drove?”

In his more animated voice, Worm said, “The black and white patrol car has an overhead valve V8 engine. It develops 325 horsepower at 4800 RPM’s. It accelerates from zero to sixty in seven seconds.”

“Ummm,” said Janet, looking a bit nonplussed.

“Actually,” I said, “it wouldn’t need most of those features and wouldn’t have them, prolly.”

Worm didn’t look discouraged. “Was not certain what meant these words.”

“Really,” I said, “if there are any cars parked within sight of the house, with humans inside of them, for more than fifteen minutes, that would be a good indication of surveillance.”

Science Guy fiddled with dials for a bit before chittering his response. “Based on analysis of sensor data using the specified criteria, the structure was being ‘watched’ last night and this morning. There was at least one vehicle parked on the street with someone inside it until approximately noon today. There has been no activity meeting your search criteria in the last five hours and thirty-six minutes, by local measurement.”

Janet and I looked at each other.

“Can’t say it gives me a warm fuzzy,” she said.

I agreed, but . . . she wasn’t the one who would have to attend a critically important meeting wearing go-go boots and a stretchy red dress that barely came to mid-thigh – without even a bra – if we didn’t take some kind of action. “Let’s risk it,” I responded.

Janet grinned. No way she was going to let me outdo her when she perceived that adventure might be involved. “That’s the spirit, girl!”

“Elder,” I asked, “I believe that it would maximize the likelihood of our mission being successful if Professor Seldon and I attended tomorrow’s meeting properly rested, cleaned and, ah, dressed. Would it be possible for you to drop us at Professor Seldon’s house, pick us up tomorrow in the early morning, and deliver us to Roosevelt Island?”

The Elder’s chittering was translated, “You are acting as our ‘agents.’ We will assist your transportation as requested.”

We waited until full dark – late, this time of year – before being lowered down to the surface, minimizing the chance that someone would see something peculiar. The aliens explained that their ship employed numerous stealth technologies, but their efficacy was improved by being at a distance. Apparently we were being raised and lowered by some form of what we would call a tractor beam.

“Somethin’ about this just makes me want to shout “Yeee-Haaaa!” Janet said as we began our swift descent. “But I’ll do it quietly, just for you!” Her wicked grin was infectious.

When we got to the house, we discovered that someone – probably Officer Wolf – had locked the doors before leaving. Janet’s keys, like her wallet, were all in her purse.

“No worries,” Janet said. “I’ve got a spare under the back door mat.”

“No-one would ever think to check there,” I teased her, as we walked around to the back of the house.

“I know, I know! Everybody tells me that . . . .” She lifted up the mat and stared blankly at the emptiness underneath it. “And . . . FUCK! I finally listened to them!”

“So, where did you put it?” I asked, reasonably.

“I’m tryin’ to remember,” she said crossly. “Why d’ya think I kept it under the mat all those years?”

She led me over to the garage, where we checked on top of window sills. To the back yard, where we checked under some loose bricks in a retaining wall. To her patio, where she searched the underside of her chairs. She was muttering and cursing the whole time.

We almost jumped out of our skins when we were caught in the beam of a flashlight.

“Who’s . . . Oh! Janet, is that you?”

Janet’s eyes briefly closed in relief. “You were expectin’ Hamlet’s ghost? Damn, Peg! You scared the crap outta me!”

“I just saw someone rummaging around, and it didn’t look like you were home. Everything okay?” A woman walked into the backyard, dimly lit by a quarter moon. She was wearing slippers and a bright yellow quilted dressing gown; her white hair was spiked, wild, and exuberantly disdainful of any notions of fashion.

“I’m fine, but I locked myself out and I don’t remember where I put my spare key,” Janet said.

“In my cookie jar, remember?” Peg said. She looked at me. “My goodness! Did you come from a costume party? I love Star Trek!”

“Just a little cosplay,” I said quickly. “There’s a group of us on campus.”

Peg giggled. “Campus? You can’t possibly be out of high school! But . . . rock on, girl! I burned my bra back in the day too!”

“Ah . . . thanks,” I said weakly, not wanting to admit that after a day of going commando, even my perpetually perky pair of peaches were eager for some architectural support.

“Peggy, would you mind very much . . . ?” Janet suggested.

“Oh! Of course! Won’t be a minute!” She trotted back into her house and emerged moments later with Janet’s spare key. “What was all that commotion about yesterday evening? Men running around, your door open. Even a police officer!” She made the presence of a police officer sound positively salacious.

“Just a bit of a misunderstandin’, and I think we’ve got it all cleared up,” Janet said.

“Oh!!! I want to hear all the details!”

“Of course, Peg, but . . . not tonight, okay?” Janet responded. “I’m pretty beat.”

“Alright, then,” her neighbor said. “I’ll let you go, but remember, I want the full story!”

“You got it, girl,” Janet responded. As Peg returned to her house, Janet sighed. “Neighbors!”

We got inside and left the lights off. Janet took a quick shower while I went into my room, stripped out of my ‘uniform,’ and selected the clothes that I wanted to wear to tomorrow’s meeting. When Janet was done, we switched up.

I was just rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when Janet burst into the bathroom. “Luke, we’re gonna have company!”

“What!” Damn, I’d promised myself I was going to stop saying that!

“Worm just called the burner phone. I guess they were monitoring communications. The police are on their way.”

“Peg?”

“I’d guess so. Wolf probably asked her to call. Damned neighbors!”

I was toweling myself off while sprinting back to my bedroom. “How long do we have?”

“Worm said five minutes, thirty seven seconds.”

I threw on a bathrobe, which was all Janet was wearing too. “Grab clothes for tomorrow . . . your purse. Anything else?”

Janet was dashing back to her own room. “Can’t think of anything!”

“Your bookbag?”

She shook her head. “Empty. Civil forfeiture, I expect.”

Three minutes later, we stepped onto the front porch then slipped around to the side of the house on the other side of Peg’s place. We each had a small duffle bag. “Two to beam up!”

“This is starting to get old,” I observed as we floated up into the night sky.

“Nonsense, Jessica,” Janet admonished. “This is effing fun!”

“Fine, great,” I groused. “But couldn’t the fun have waited until we had a decent night’s sleep?”

“We can fly, we can fly, we can fly!” Janet sang, pretty deliberately off-key.

“And maybe coffee in the morning?”

Janet stopped singing. “Damn. You had to remind me, didn’t you!”

We were back on the ship in almost no time at all, and Worm was there to greet us in the hatch. “Are now attired appropriate?” Even Worm’s flat voice sounded dubious.

In fact, we were both still in bathrobes and slippers, with towels around our heads. “No, Ensign,” I said, gently. “But we will be, for tomorrow’s meeting. Thank you for the warning.”

“I glad am,” he replied. “I was think that this clothing set was not for meeting appropriate, based on the transmissions. Correct, yes?”

“You are correct,” I assured him. “Your sense of human aesthetics and cultural expectations is improving.”

“Excellent. Then would this be the time appropriate to discuss anatomically pleasing proportions?” He inquired.

“NO!” I said.

“It’s a cultural thing,” Janet explained. “Jessica might be insulted if you suggest that portions of her anatomy are, umm, overgenerous.”

Worm thought about that for a moment. “Understand this, I do. Can we your proportions discuss instead, Professor Seldon?”

She squinted at Worm. “Do you feel lucky, punk?”

“I understand do not . . . .”

“The answer’s ‘Hell No!’ Not if you want to see your homeworld again, Sonny!”

* * * * *

We had another night sleeping in the hatch area with pillows and blankets. It worked, kind of, though Janet was pretty stiff in the morning. Like James Wainwright would be after the first couple of nights in a tent at the beginning of a long hike. My seventeen-year-old body was far less susceptible to those types of aches and pains, but I decided I wasn’t going to say anything about that. I wanted to see my homeworld again too!

Since we were supposed to blend in as people who were getting a bit of morning exercise, Janet was wearing a pair of gray sweats, with “Gryphon” and our school mascot emblazoned on them.

I didn’t have anything comparable, and it’s probably not what a girl my apparent age would wear anyhow. I went with a pair of plain black leggings and an electric blue sports bra under a sleeveless white T-Shirt. I put my long, gold hair into a high, braided ponytail. It wasn’t the most professional look, but I would certainly pass for a jogger without any problem. A little light makeup and I was as ready as I was going to be.

Janet looked me over and smiled. “I think kids your age would say that you slay, girl!”

“Then let’s go find us some dragons, shall we?”

It was still dark when the aliens lowered us down, but it was summer, and it was D.C., so the air was thick and definitely not cold. The island isn’t large, though it’s covered with trees that create the illusion of distance from civilization. We followed the path to the statue of Theodore Roosevelt and reached it within a few minutes.

Janet gave the statue a critical appraisal, since she was an academic with nothing better to do. “Damn. Looks like he’s plannin’ to exhort the masses.”

“At this hour? How uncivilized!”

“Nekulturny,” she agreed.

“He can wait ’til we’re gone,” I said. “I’m not much in the mood for speeches.”

We waited. I passed the time by doing some light stretches. I figured it would look right if casual observers happened to show up.

Janet sat on a bench and watched me, a sardonic look on her face. “When I up, down, touch the ground, puts me in the mood . . . .” she sang tunelessly. Tastelessly too, I thought.

My burner phone rang. The ID said, “Lennox, Massachusetts,” and the time read 6:45.

“Jessica James.”

“Ensign Worm is this. Patching Science Officer.”

Siri’s voice cut in. “Jessica James. Sensors indicate that persons you would consider ‘authorities’ have arrived at the end of the bridge to Theodore Roosevelt Island. Presently, they are remaining in their vehicles.”

I thought about that. “Janet, they may take us into custody. I don’t know. Maybe you should . . . .”

“Can it, girl,” she growled. “You go, I go.”

I looked at her helplessly. There was no sense arguing with Janet, and we didn’t have a lot of time anyhow. I took a breath and said, “Thank you, Ensign. Officer. We will proceed. If we are taken into custody it may be some time before we can contact you again.”

“We cannot indefinitely wait, Jessica James,” Worm warned flatly.

“If we can’t call you, talk to attorney Justin Abel,” I advised.

“Yes. Agreed.”

We signed off.

“Worm could always beam us back up if there’s trouble,” Janet suggested.

“Might be better if he didn’t, though. Even if the government types lock us up, they still need to talk to us.”

Janet thought about that and shrugged, acquiescing.

I gave up on stretches and was pacing, full of nerves. Birds were making a racket and the sounds of the city’s awakening began to penetrate through the oaks.

Three people appeared on the path, approaching us. I recognized Grant right away. To his right paced a tall, slender man with dark, straight hair, silvered temples and a distinguished look. We had seen his photo while doing our research the previous afternoon: Ranveer Singh, DHS’s Undersecretary for Science and Technology.

The woman on Grant’s left didn’t immediately look familiar. My (now diminutive) height and medium brown hair . . . but she was wearing a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. When they got close, she was the one who spoke for the group. “Professor Seldon? And . . . Jesse James, is it? Gavin’s report didn’t do you justice.”

She removed her cap and sunglasses as she spoke. With her voice and her telegenic looks, the President’s Science Advisor was a staple on the Sunday News shows. It appeared that either Grant or Grimm had plenty of juice.

I couldn’t resist. “It’s ‘Jessica,’” I said, extending a hand. “Doctor Livingston, I presume?”

. . . . To be continued. With suitably low humor.