Alien Secrets

Libby sat on the front steps of school. She sighed as she watched the sun rise over the mountains. If only her mom worked a regular job like everyone else. Or if she were allowed to ride the bus, like any normal teenager on her way to school. Or if only her mom were there to sign her up, but Libby had been through the process so many times, she knew what to do and there was no way she had wanted her mom to sign her up. This was yet another new school and Libby was determined to start out right. Only that had gotten her to school half an hour early, when not even security was there yet. There was to be another battle today, they'd said so on the radio. Libby wanted to be at home, listening. Then she could imagine her dad, out there, somewhere beyond Jupiter, fighting, trying to keep the alien Riez from destroying yet another colony.

"Boy, do you look glum."

Libby looked up. A boy, handsome enough to be a movie star, regarded her curiously. He had black, curly, hair and a hispanic cast to his features, but he regarded her with very blue eyes. "Who are you?" she asked.

Terry stared at the funny girl, with her braided hair and black eyes and black shoes and black clothes. She was so unlike anyone he'd ever met. She was really black. The only features that stood out were her hands, small, delicate, curving around the strap to her school bag. "Are you new here?" he asked.

Libby nodded. "Today's my first day. Do you go to school here?"

"Yeah. I've lived here all my life. Where are you from?"

"New York, originally, but I've lived in so many places, I've lost track."

"I'm Terry. What grade are you in?"

"Ninth. What about you?"

Terry made a face. "Eleven." He scuffed the ground at his feet. "I skipped some grades."

Libby drew in a deep breath. "So have I!" she exclaimed. "We move around so much, I do a lot of studying on my own. Seems I'm always far ahead or way behind." She smiled. "I'm Libby."
Behind them, the bell rang.

"Sorry, I've got to go. I've a meeting this morning."

"With whom?"

Terry shrugged. "Some friends. We formed a special club." He looked down. "You don't want to get involved with us, Libby. We're the outcasts of this school."

"I know that feeling," Libby said glumly.

"Well, I better get going. You don't want anyone else to see you talking with me."

"Do you think the office is open now?" Libby asked quickly, not wanting this conversation to end.

"Oh sure. The teachers have a secret hiding place in the back." Terry laughed. "They like to sneak in when we're not looking!"

Libby watched him go, a little saddened. He was the first friendly face she'd seen in this city and he'd told her not to be his friend. Hefting another sigh and her backpack, Libby tried the doors again. To her relief, they swung open.

"Yes, can I help you?"

Libby stared up at the enormous secretary. He was so tall his head almost touched the ceiling. "Umm, I came to register?"

The man craned his head out the door, looking up and down the halls. He looked back at her, asking, "Where are your parents?"

"My mom had to get to work. I'm here, though."

He smiled kindly. "Yes, I see that you are. My name is Bob. And yours?"

"Libya Van der Grif. I go by Libby."

He held out an enormous hand. "Well, Libby, I'm pleased to meet you. Why don't you have a seat in my office, right over there, and we'll get started."

"You have an office?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon, but I'm not the secretary, I just had to get some files. Miss. Creasy is on holiday. But she'll be back tomorrow." He gave an exaggerated sigh, clutching his hands to his chest. "I don't know how I'll ever survive that long!"

Libby gasped, then giggled. "Are you a counselor?"

"Yep. And since you fall in my section of the alphabet, I'm sorry to say, you're mine!" He stood. "This way, please."

Libby followed the huge man to a small corner office with a desk almost as tall as she was. Indeed, two bar stools were pulled up next to it, with a regular-sized seat in a corner.

Bob patted a stool as he edged around his desk. "Up here, please. I like to look at my students." He waved to the chair. "Their parents, well, I don't very much like them."

Libby was astonished. "Are you sure you're a counselor?"

Bob chuckled. "Of course. Hand over your life, I mean your papers, and we shall see where to stash you for the next eight hours."

Libby obediently handed him her school portfolio.

"You've moved around a lot," he commented, rifling through her numerous school records. "Hmmm. You've missed quite a bit of school in the past year. What grade would you say you're in?"

"Ninth."

Bob nodded. "That would suit your age, certainly. Well, let's put you there, at least until the SPTs next week."

"SPTs?"

"Yes, the state-wide placement tests. They're to measure the knowledge of our students, to see if you are all learning what you're supposed to be. "It's odd, you coming in so close to the end of the year."

"But, it's April," Libby protested.

"Yes, but you see this is the United States. Our school year goes from September through June. In fact, our last day is June 15th this year." He rifled through her papers. "You've never lived in the U.S. before, have you?"

"Umm, well, I was born in New York. But I have gone to mostly international schools."

Bob nodded. "I see. That's quite a background you have. Okay, well, I'll put you in the standard classes, then, see how you make out. That'd be Mrs. Nielson's English first period -- oh, do you have any preferences for electives?"

"Electives?"

"Yes, any hobbies? Do you sing? Play an instrument? Dance?"

Libby shook her head to all his questions.

"Draw? Paint? Type? Do you like cars? How about photography? A language, what about learning a foreign language?"

"I know French, German, Italian, Arabian, Japanese, some Spanish, Latin, and I was learning Chinese."

Bob chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Would you like to learn an instrument or to sing or any of the other things I've mentioned?"

Libby shrugged. "They don't sound very interesting."

"All right, I tell you what, I'll give you study hall for now. When you find something you're interested in, come tell me. Okay, so where were we? Ah, yes, English first period, Chemistry, since you had that last year, no science this past year?" He scrawled a note on a pad by his desk. "No matter, Algebra with Mr. Thomas, Chemistry with Mr. Ho, third period. Then U.S. History with Mr. Sato. You'll have Second Lunch, then study hall . . . " he paused. He shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get along with them okay," he muttered. "After study hall you'll have gym. Does that sound all right to you?"
Libby nodded helplessly. "Sure."

"Let me just print this out, then, wait here a moment."

Libby watched the tall man edge back out around his desk and duck under the doorway. She blinked. He was amazing. She smiled. He was really nice. For once, she had lucked out.

"Ah, good-morning, Cassandra," Bob said cheerily to the young woman who walked into the office. "You're right on time. Come, I want to introduce someone." He ushered the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, ninth grade class president into his office. "Cassandra, may I present Libby Van der Grif. Libby, this is Cassandra."

Libby smiled hesitantly. "Hi."

"What do you want of me today, Bob?" Cassandra asked, ignoring Libby completely.

"Libby's new here. Here's her schedule. Would you make sure she gets to her first class? And show her around before First Bell, okay? Thanks. Good luck, Libby."

Cassandra frowned. She pressed her lips together, staring at Libby. Ever so slightly, she sniffed, pointing her nose up towards the ceiling. "Very well. This way." Turning around, Cassandra strode off without checking to see if Libby followed.

The crowded and noisy halls hit Libby with a slam as she stepped outside the quiet and orderly office. Cassandra quickly vanished into the crowd, looking neither right nor left and expertly avoiding the press of other students. Libby clutched her bag tightly, trying to keep up. She ducked and dodged trying to avoid the other people but all the twisting and turning soon had her completely disoriented.

"Hey watch it!"

"Look where you're going!"

"What's yer problem?"

Libby fled down the halls. She ducked into a bathroom, then immediately ducked out. There were too many people! How was she to get around in here? Seeing another door, Libby escaped inside.

Amber C. Easton looked up from her novel. She stared at the scared kid for a moment, then set aside her book. "Are you new here?" she asked.
Libby started, turning around, embarrassed and on the verge of tears. She nodded. "I'm lost!"

Ace stood, unfolding her long legs from beneath her desk. "Hey, it's okay. I can show you where to go. What's your first class?"

"English," Libby said, hope letting her smile a very little. She said, stronger, "I have English first, with Mrs. Nielson?"

Ace smiled. "I had her, she's really nice. But let's wait until First Bell. It'll be easier then."

"First Bell?"

Ace stared at the girl. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Libby shook her head. "I've never been to a school like this one."

"Okay, let me see if I can explain a little. This is called a public school. In this country, all children are required to attend school until they turn sixteen. If your parents can afford to, they send you to what is called a private school, which are quite different. But, usually, most people attend public schools. In this school, everything is run by a system of bells. The actual first bell sounds half an hour before school starts, letting us know that the doors are now unlocked. What we call First Bell sounds five minutes before school starts, telling us to get to class. Second Bell sounds two minutes later, telling us to get a move on and Third Bell sounds at Seven-thirty, telling us that school is now starting and we'd better be in class. If you're caught in the hallways after that, you get detention during lunch, depending on how many tardies you have." Ace grinned. "But I know how to get around that." She glanced at her watch. "And First Bell should sound . . . Now."

A loud, very loud, pealing sound echoed around the room and halls. "That's First Bell," Ace explained. "Come on. Stay close to me."

With a hand on Libby's shoulder, Ace led the younger girl through the maze of hallways. Even as they walked, the students surrounding them slowly vanished, disappearing into classes. As they walked, Ace pointed out various features.

"You're in fact on the wrong side of the school. These classes are mainly for the GATE program. Whatever you do, don't go up those stairs. The Juniors and Seniors have classes upstairs. That's the ramp to the gym, there. The lunchroom is down that way, but you can eat wherever you want. I never eat lunch there. School lunch is terrible. Library's that way. It's huge. I'm an aide there fourth period. That's the office, you've been there all ready, right? Right, and this wing that we're going into is mainly for math classes, pre-algebra and below up to Geometry. Trigonometry, Pre-Calculus, Algebra II, and Calculus and beyond are elsewhere. This corner is the biology wing, followed by, you guessed it, Chemistry, and the other sciences. That door there goes out to the buses; this is the student center. And this over here is home to the English department. And here you are, room 318, Mrs. Nielsen."

Second Bell rang, interrupting Libby before she could say thank you. She glanced away, trying to find the source of the noise. When she looked back, the other girl was gone. A little crestfallen, and breathless, for the girl had very long strides, Libby pushed open the door to her first class.

Mrs. Nielsen, for that was who the little, silver-haired woman had to be, stood on a stool to write down the day's assignments in the top corner of the board. Around her, the class was eerily silent and Libby felt very awkward. It seemed that the entire class was staring at her. Hesitantly, she approached the older woman.

"Ummm . . . ."

"Take your seat," Mrs. Nielsen snapped. "I'll address questions after the bell."

"But, umm . . . ."

"Take your seat. I have no time to be pestered."

This is nice? Libby wondered to herself. She tried again. "Mrs. Nielsen, I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm new here?"

The older woman glared over her shoulder. "I believe I said to sit down."

A hand tugged on Libby's sleeve. She looked down, to see a shaggy, brown-haired boy with glasses holding up a finger to his lips. With his head, he gestured to the empty seat next to him. "It's all right," he whispered when she hesitated. "Nobody sits there."

"Nik," Mrs. Nielsen warned without turning around, "if I hear one more word out of you, it will be detention, for the third time this week."

Nik rolled his eyes behind the teacher's back, then grinned at Libby as she sat down.

Libby said nothing, staring at the fireworks screen saver on the desk. She glanced at the clock, and braced herself.

As soon as Third Bell sounded, Mrs. Nielsen turned around, launching into a lecture on the iterature of an American author Libby had never heard of. He musn't be very famous, she thought to herself.

Mrs. Nielsen stopped, mid-speil, to stare at Libby. "Who are you?" she demanded.
Libby swallowed. "I'm new," she said meekly. "Libby Van der Grif."

"Ah, yes, Cassandra said that was your name." Her eyes narrowed. "What do you know of Faulkner?"

Libby wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor or dissolve into her hard, plastic seat. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"What?" Mrs. Nielsen demanded, "I didn't hear you."

"I don't know of him," Libby managed.

Mrs. Nielsen drew back in outrage. "Now you've done it," Nik whispered.

Libby cringed as the elder woman berated the local school system and all the school board, lifting her voice in a harangue that Libby thought must surely reach the classes next door. In between breaths, Mrs. Nielsen stabbed at Libby's computer screen, stopping after downloading all the relevant poems.

"And that," she almost shouted, "Is your assignment. When you come back on Monday, I want a three-page essay on the merits of William Faulkner and why his work is important and relevant to this century."

With that said, Mrs. Nielsen took up her lecture right where she'd left off. Libby sank lower into her seat, fumbling for her laptop. She connected the ports, transferring the data. Glancing to her left, she saw Nik dutifully typing notes into his classroom computer. She sat up a little straighter, opened a new file to type her own notes. As she did so, a small note appeared on the screen: TRANSFER COMPLETE. DISPLAY?

Libby stared. What transfer? She okayed the command and a huge, pages-long file scrolled down her screen. At the top, was another message: 1 ATTACHMENT. She opened it up, reading the short message: QUICK TRANSFER THE FILE BEFORE SHE SEES IT WILL EXPLAIN LATER. Libby transferred the file before she could have second thoughts. Glancing sideways, she saw Nik give her a quick nod.

After class, Nik vanished out the door first. As she stepped outside, he grabbed her arm. "What's your next class?"

"Mr. Thomas. Algebra."

Nik pulled her down the hall. "This way. My class is next door."

"I need to say thank you."

"Don't worry," Nik said with a grin. " 'Ol Satan's bride won't even remember your name tomorrow. But you better turn in that essay. That's why I gave you that file. It's all my notes, on all the points she's sure to check for. Here's your class, bye!"

Dazed, Libby entered her next class. The room was mostly empty, the middle-aged man at the board wiping off the diagrams and drawings from his first class. "Excuse me," she said timidly, "Are you Mr. Tomas?"

He turned around, his smile reassuring. "I am. And you are Libby?"

She nodded. "Yes. How?"

He smiled. "I downloaded my mail this morning. You were top of the list. Bob wants me to ascertain your level. We have a test today, which I would like you to take, but don't worry, it won't count toward your grade." He gestured to a seat by the windows. "That's an empty seat there. I sit everyone alphabetically. You're the first 'V' name this year."

Libby finished the test within about fifteen minutes. Tapping for the next page, she was astonished to read: PLEASE WAIT. PROCESSING. A minute later, a message flashed across the screen: PLEASE SEE ME. Wondering, she went over to where Mr. Thomas waited behind his desk.

"Have you taken Algebra before? Have you done this sort of thing, like on the test?"

Libby shook her head. "Not in school. I missed a lot this year."

"What are you studying now? Can I see?"

Libby pulled a disk out of her bag. Plugging it in, Mr. Thomas perused it, nodding to himself. "I see, Libby, that you actually belong next door, in Ms. Allisson's Geometry class. Go ahead, I'll tell Bob, not to worry."

Taking back her disk, Libby walked softly from the room and entered the classroom Nik had vanished into. Ms. Allison was a cheerful woman, her class actually singing one of the proofs they were learning. Ms. Allison beckoned Libby to come in and at the conclusion of the 'song' said, “Are you new, young lady?"

Libby nodded. "Mr. Thomas said to come here?"

"Oh, okay, have a seat. Now, class, do you have any questions on last night's homework?"

Questions led to another song and Libby quickly opened the file, reading along, quite amazed as the class sang around her.

"You'll find my class quite different from any other you'll ever take, Libby," Ms. Allisson said after the bell rang, ending class. "You're dismissed, everyone, don't forget to bring a label to class tomorrow!" She snagged Nik by the arm. "Nik, please help Libby to her next class. I'll see you tomorrow, Libby."

"I thought you had Mr. Thomas?"

"He sent me over here. My next class is chemistry?"

"Chemistry?" Nik made a face. "I don't have to take that until next year. Too bad for you, but at least you missed the science fair. Hey, how come you're in chemistry, anyway? All freshmen take biology."

"But I had biology ages ago."

"Nik pushed her at a door. "There you go, chemistry. He's the only one with it this hour."

Gratefully, Libby went inside. She endured the class silently, sighing with relief when it was over. After class, she looked around for Nik, but he was nowhere she could see. Disappointed, she went back inside. "Mr. Ho," she asked, "Can you tell me how to get to Mr. Sato's class?"

Her chemistry teacher looked up from his computer. “Why don't you download a school map?" he asked. "That would be much more appropriate."

"Oh."

"Here, let me just print out one. There, now you ought to get to class, before you are late. Mr. Sato cannot abide tardiness."

"Thank you," Libby said, clutching the paper to her. She stared at the map, staring at the numbers blankly. Stepping outside, she stared around her, trying to find out where she was.

"Lost, are you?"

"Terry!" Libby exclaimed.

"Shh, shh," he cautioned her. "When I saw you there, I had to know how you're making out."

She sighed. "Not very well, I'm afraid. I already have a three-page paper to write and I can't find my way. What are these numbers on here?"

"The numbers? Why they're written on the doors. Look." He pointed to the map. "Just look for the number that corresponds to the number on the door."

"But how do I know which number to go to? I wasn't given any numbers."

"Okay, just remember them from now on. Who's your next teacher?"

"Mr. Sato, history."

Terry blinked. "That's my class. What are you doing in a junior class?"

Libby's mouth turned downward. "I didn't know. Bob said to go there."

"Bob, hmmm. He's my counselor, too. My old one ditched me. All right, come on, we have to get upstairs."

"What are you doing down here?" Libby asked. "I thought all junior and senior classes were upstairs."

"They are. I had a free period this year, so Bob let me take Astronomy. It's actually very fascinating." He stopped at the top of the stairs. "Look, Mr. Sato's class is the third door on the right. I'll see you there." In a flash, Terry vanished into the crowd.

Clutching the map to her, Libby went to class. She was seated, downloading the files Mr. Sato told her she'd need, when Terry, and the bell, slid into class. This time, when class was over, Libby slid out of her seat first, grabbing Terry's bag as he left.

"Wait, Terry, come on. Wait for me."

"Are you insane?" he hissed at her. "Let me go."

"But you're the only person beside that girl who showed me around and Nik that's been the least bit nice to me."

"Did you say Nik? A short guy with glasses?"

"Yes. That's him. Do you know him?"

"I'm afraid so, but if Nik's been nice to you, there's no harm in knowing me. Might actually do you some good."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Very well, come on, I'll introduce you to my friends."

Libby followed Terry through the halls to a small alcove off the hallway next to the teacher's lounge. Sitting there were already two people: Nik and the tall, red-haired girl Libby had met earlier.

"Terry," said Ace, waving, "glad you're back. Are you feeling better?"

"Much better, thanks. Guys, I'd like you to meet Libby. She's in my history class."

"We've met," said Nik. "Sit down, eat lunch with us."

"We've met, too. I'm Ace. Hope I didn't talk your ear off this morning."

"Oh, no," Libby said, gratefully sinking onto the tile floor with the others. "Thank you very much. I'm still quite lost, though."

Terry laughed. "Yeah, it takes a bit of getting used to."

"So, are you going to join us, then?" Ace asked. "It would be nice to have another girl in this crew."

"I don't know. What exactly am I joining?"

"We're outcasts," Terry said with a shrug, digging a sandwich from his bag. "The school losers."

"We're not that bad," Ace objected, "but we are considered by most to be weird or freaks."

"But why?"

"I'm too smart for my own good," Terry said. "Ace here is a criminal. She's been arrested now a half-dozen times for breaking into restricted computer files. And Nik? Well, take a look at him."

"Yeah, as if my glasses and height aren't bad enough, my parents had to name me Phoenix."

"Why's that bad?" Libby asked.

Nik shook his head. "You've never been teased, have you, Libby?"

"Teased? Why no. But I guess I know what you mean. I'm always the stranger, always being left out of things. I've moved two or three times a year since I was five. It's my mom's job, you see. She's always being sent to these exotic places. And taking me with her."

"Sounds exciting," Ace murmured. "I've lived here all my life. Except a few years I don't remember. My parents started out in Texas before coming here."

"Don't you find it fascinating, seeing all those places?" Nik asked.

Libby sighed. "I guess it might, if I ever got to see the places my mom went, but I'm always in school. Seems there's always some sort of school my mom wishes me to experience. Meet people my own age, she's always telling me, despite that the kids never want anything to do with me." She sighed. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve this."

"What's Libby short for?" Ace asked, "If you don't mind telling, of course."

"Oh, no, I don't mind. My real name is Libya, like the country. It means falling rain."

"That's pretty," Nik said. "If I had that for a name, I wouldn't shorten it. I mean, it's not Phoenix." He made a face into his orange.

"I like phoenixes," Libby said. "They're firebirds. There's tons of legends about them."

Nik snorted. "Oh, yeah, I know all about those. The shrink my mom sends me to makes me read everything he finds about phoenixes. It's supposed to make me feel better about it." He shook his head over that notion.

"Is your name short for something?" Libby asked Ace.

"Naw, it's nothing cool like your name. ACE is an acronym for my full name, Amber Clarissa Easton. My dad wanted to be a fighter pilot. If he hadn't gotten in that motorcycle accident in college, he might be now. I don't know why he decided that I was to be the pilot in the family. Yuck! It's not like I don't have three brothers and two sisters."

"I've always wanted brothers and sisters," Libby sighed.

"It's not what you think," Ace laughed. "But I'm told that, being the oldest, I have it tougher." She glared at Terry.

"Don't look at me," Terry protested. "Just because I'm a middle child doesn't mean I have it easy. Quite the contrary, I assure you."

Libby looked at Nik. "So I suppose you're the youngest in your family?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Nik grimaced. "No, well, I suppose, if you count all my stepsisters and my half-brothers. My parents are divorced, see, and both are remarried. Only," he scowled, "my mom and stepdad are getting divorced."

"Tell her about your name, Terry," Ace said, poking him.

"Aw, Ace, it's not important."

"Sure it is. Libby, Terry's older brother and younger sibs have the strangest names. Tell her, Terry."

"What is it, Terrence?" Libby asked. "That's not a bad name."

"No, and it's usually the first thing everyone thinks of. My name is actually Terene. It's another word for ground or terrain."

"His parents got names for all their kids out of a thesaurus," Ace said. "His older brother is Concord, like as in music."

"And my younger brother's name is Quire," Terry continued, rolling his eyes.

"Quire? I don't understand."

"It's another word for paper," Nik answered, "though I don't know anyone who uses the word."

"Look it up in a thesaurus," Ace suggested, "you'll see 'em all there. Even his sister's name, Aquamarine: blue."

"I really don't see why those are so bad."

"Just say that in front of my brothers or sister," Terry advised, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Nik asked.

"How can you eat now?" Libby asked back. "It's way too early."

"Girl, you better eat while you can," Ace said. "Want my apple?"

Shaking her head, Libby declined. "No, thanks, I'll be fine."

Ace shrugged. "Okay, it's your loss."

"What class do you have next?" Terry asked.

"Study hall. Whatever that is."

Her three new friends stared at her. "You have study hall fifth period?" Ace asked.

Libby nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

Terry smiled. "It's nothing bad, Libby, it's just that no one else but us has study hall fifth period."

"Why not?"

Nik shrugged. "You know, I haven't quite figured that out," he drawled.

"We're anathema, Libby," Terry explained.

"English, Terry, speak English," Ace admonished him. "He means, Libby, that no one in this school will come near us." She pointed to a kid walking by. "See, watch."

The boy walked closer, staying to the far side of the corridor. Ace waved her arm, "Hey, want to eat lunch with us?"

The kid pressed his back against the wall, his face pale, his hands shaking. He shook his head, inching past where they sat. As he disappeared around the corner, Libby could hear him running.

"You see?" Ace said. She laughed, but the sound had a hollow ring to it.

"Why did he do that?" Libby asked softly.

"They hate us." "We're losers." "Don't know." The three answered together. Nik looked about to cry and Terry looked away. Ace took a huge bite of her apple, chewing loudly. Libby sighed.

"Hey, we're friends, aren't we?" she asked suddenly. "I don't have many friends."

"You want to be our friend?" Terry asked. "After all this?"

Ace swallowed. "Gee, that'd be great!"

Nik managed a small, hopeful smile.

Libby shrugged. "Why not? Do you want to come to my house after school? We're all unpacked, I can show you all the neat stuff we have from other countries."

"I wish I could," Ace said, "but I have to look after all my brothers and sisters after school."

"I'd have to call my mom," Nik said, "I usually ride the bus to my shrink's house."

"I have classes at the University," Terry said. "Sorry."

"Oh. Well, that's all right. How about I meet you at the front door after school, Nik?"

He nodded eagerly. "Sure. But if I'm not there by the final bell, you'll know I had to take the bus."

"Final bell?"

"Yeah," Ace explained, "it rings fifteen minutes after school's out, to tell us the buses are leaving and work detail is starting. If you're late to that, you get three more days. And I should know."

"Ace, here, has the record for tardies," Terry said. “She spent every day last year in lunch detention and after school work detail."

"It was nothing," Ace said, "but it was booooring!"

"Why did you do it?"

Ace shrugged. "I just wanted to. Needed a little excitement. But it got me out of babysitting." She frowned. "It also meant I couldn't play sports last year."

"What do you play?"

"I play volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter and track all spring and summer."

"Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"You know, I thought I was -- would, I mean. I've played sports all my life. It was really odd to not play last year."

"She's a super jock," Nik teased. "She's always going to practice or games or meets or races. She gets up way too early in the morning to run."

Terry yawned. "Yeah, too early."

"And when else am I going to be able to run?" Ace demanded. "Do you play sports?"

Libby shook her head. "Not really. I mean, I took martial arts, but what I know is really mixed up. I don't stay anywhere long enough to concentrate on one type."

"I play soccer," Terry said. "That's fun."

"Soccer? Is this American football?"

"I think you've got it backwards," Nik said. "Soccer is the kicking game."

"Oh. Do you play rugby, then?"

"What's that?" Ace asked.

"It's, ah, well, it's hard to explain. But I've watched a few games. The players told me, a few, anyway, told me that they play football -- your soccer -- in the off-season or during the summer."

"Never heard of it," Terry said, shaking his head. "All my family’s huge soccer fans. The World Cup gets more attention than the Superbowl or the World Series."

"Hey, the World Series is still the best," Nik growled.

"Sorry, champ. Libby, would you picture Nik as a baseball player?"

Libby thought for a moment, regarding Nik.

Finally, she shook her head. "Not like what I'd imagine, no. Why?"

"You're looking at the Pee Wee slugger champ," Ace said proudly. "Nik hit more homeruns last year than anyone, though not quite enough to beat the record."

"I will this year, though," Nik said with a shy smile.

"He's already hit nineteen," Terry said, "one for each time he's come to bat."

"Baseball's the only thing I'm good at," Nik explained softly. "Hey, I have a game this weekend. Want to come, Libby?"

"We always go," Ace said. "We usually get a whole bleacher to ourselves. I'd be glad to give you a ride."

"I've never seen an American baseball game, I'd love to."

"Bring a mitt," Terry said. "We always warm up the champ." He punched Nik playfully, not adding the reason was because no one on the team would warm Nik up.

Libby watched the three people, as different as they could be. "How did you guys meet?" she asked.

"Oh, I know, it's hard to believe we're friends, right?" Ace asked with a smile.

"It's nothing amazing or out of this world," Terry said. “We all got thrown into study hall together last year. I'd had that hour study hall to myself the year before."

"Nik and I are sophomores this year," Ace said. "I got held back in seventh grade, so Nik and I are in the same grade."

"You're a sophomore?" Libby asked Nik. "Then why are you in my English class?"

Nik blushed. "I accidentally got in a sophomore class last year. I begged Bob to let me stay when the mistake was finally found. Since it was so far into the semester, he let me. Bob's really nice."

"Yeah, he took us all, despite our problems. He kept me from getting expelled last year."

Libby stared at Ace. "You almost got expelled?"
"Oh, sure, it's not that big of a deal. Really."

"I wish I could have done it," Nik said, rubbing his hands together.

"Sure, next time, shortie," Terry grinned. "You see, Libby, we all stick up for each other. Nik and I try to get to all of Ace's stuff, they come to my soccer games and Ace and I go to Nik's baseball games."

"That sounds really nice," Libby said. "Will I be able to come?"

Ace grinned. "Of course! You're one of us now. If you want to be."

Terry extended his hand, palm down, into the center of their circle. "Are you with me, freaks?"

Nik covered Terry's hand with his own and Ace set hers on top. Together they looked at Libby. Hesitantly, she laid hers on Ace's hand, to complete the pact.

"Terrene," he said, adding his other hand.

"Phoenix," he added, putting in his other hand.

"Ace," she continued.

"Libya," she finished.

"We'll say it twice, for Libby," Terry instructed.

"We are the freaks. We are the ones no one looks to, so we pledge to look after each other until the sun stops rising in the East. Once you enter this circle of freaks we will never let you go. United we stand, like this grand country. My secret is yours, yours is mine. Until the world stops turning. You are my family. I pledge this by my secret name, the name I call myself. Until time stops, I pledge."

Libby couldn't explain, not even to herself, what she felt as she repeated that vow with the others. There was a strange feeling in her middle, a warmth and joy that spread throughout her body and brought a dazzling smile to her face and a sparkle to her eyes. She felt lighter than air, so happy she thought she might burst.

The end-of-lunch bell rang, startling them all. Laughing, Ace gathered her books and the other three grabbed their bags. They smiled, laughing together as they went down the hall.



Libby waited on the front steps after school, watching the stream of people passing by. After a while, the stream lessened to a trickle and still no Nik. The thought of her new friends made Libby smile. There was Terry, the youngest, but smartest boy Libby had ever met. He was also the leader of the group. He was on his way to the nearby University for more school. Then there was Ace, the tall, athletic one who loved old books, especially if they were in the hard-copy form and not on a disk. She also loves chillidogs, Libby thought with a smile. And then there was Nik, the best baseball player Libby knew. As Terry had said, Nik hit three more homeruns in Saturday's game. Libby frowned. He might not look like a baseball player, but his teammates surely could have treated him better. But, as she was daily finding out, the Freaks Club, as they were called, were ignored, harassed, or picked on. Absently, Libby rubbed her knee. It still hurt from Cassandra's kick. That girl had set herself to make Libby look like a fool.

"Your face could freeze like that," said Nik, sitting down beside her. "Rough day in gym?"

Libby forced a smile. "No, it's okay. I was just thinking of the new assignment Mrs. Nielsen gave me."

Nik gave a knowing sigh. "Yeah." He groaned. "I can't believe she gave us a pop quiz today. I think I failed it."

"I don't believe that, Nik," Libby protested. "Not after all the help you gave me last Friday. I'll bet I get an 'A' on that paper, thanks to you. You know more about that Faulkner guy than I'll bet she does."

"I don't think so," Nik murmured. "Mrs. Nielsen knows everything!"

"She can't possibly know everything, Nik. Oh, look, there's my mom!"

Pulling Nik by the arm, Libby dashed for her mom's Sundancer. She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek and hauled the door shut behind Nik.

"And how are you kids doing?"

"Fine, Mrs. Van der Grif," Nik chirped, the essence of politeness.

"Oh, great, Mom," Libby chattered. "We played American football in gym today."

"Football? But it's spring, honey."

"Yeah, I know, and I got this cool bruise!"

" 'Yeah' ?" her mom echoed. "You have been learning slang."

"Yeah is not slang Mom," Libby glared at the snickering Nik.

"Oh, I am not upset, Libby. I think it is wonderful. It means you are fitting in."

Libby and Nik exchanged amused glances. "Yeah, Mom, fitting in, that's what I'm doing." Libby grinned. "How was work today?"

"Not very thrilling, I am afraid, but productive. What have you planned for today?"

"Nik and I are going to research Mrs. Nielsen's new assignment. Then I thought we'd give Nik a lift to his baseball practice."

"Oh, I am sorry, Nik, dear, but I cannot drive you this afternoon. Perhaps you can walk?"

"That's okay, Mrs. Van der Grif, I'll call my mom. I need to get my gear, anyway."

"You had a baseball game last weekend?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did. We won."

"Did you have a good time?"

"We sure did," Libby answered. "Nik hit three homeruns! And he plays catcher."

"Catcher? I was catcher for my team in college."

"You didn't tell me you played baseball, Mom."

"I did, but I was not great. Certainly, I never hit homeruns." She smiled. "Good for you, Nik."

"I have a game tomorrow. Want to come?"

"Please, Mom, can we? I want to introduce you to my friends."

"I shall have to see, Libby. Ah, here we are."

Libby opened the door. "Last one to the computer has to type first!" she yelled.

"Hey, no fair!" Nik shouted back. "You got a headstart!"

Sydney Van der Grif smiled as the children raced inside. She was very happy for her daughter, that she'd found other children her own age to play with. She took her briefcase from the trunk and shut the doors. Walking up to the house, she checked the mail slot. She still felt odd reaching inside the rectangular metal box to feel the old-fashioned letters. Really, the Americans were so behind the times!

"Sydney!"

She looked up, waved to the woman approaching from across the street. "Hello, Moira. How is your baby?"

Moira hefted her baby on her hip. "Little Joe's just fine, aren't you Joesy, yeah, such a cute baby." She glanced up from the child to look towards the house. She lowered her voice. "I was wondering, Sydney, why you allow your daughter to play with that boy."

Sydney fought her surprise at the venom in her neighbor's voice. "Nik? Why not? He is a nice boy."

"Really, Sydney, you were fooled by that act? Look a little closer. He's evil itself."

"Evil?" Sydney forced herself to laugh. "That is absurd. What has he done?"

"Well, it's not that he has, but it's -- there's something about him. Everyone sees it but you. Your daughter has fallen in with a bad crowd. Why that Amber is a thief, I tell you, and the other boy is some kind of a freak."

Freak? Sydney wondered. That's what Libby said last night, when I told her it was too late to go out. Can this be true? She shook her head. "I trust my daughter, Moira."

"Don't let her tell you it's all to help your observations, Sydney, I'm warning you."

"That's enough, Moira," Sydney snapped. "My daughter and her friends have nothing to do with my work. I am a sociologist, for heaven's sake! Not a mad scientist."

Moira stepped back. "Very well, I have done my duty. Don't blame me when your daughter goes berserk."

Wondering still, Sydney stepped inside the house. She fingered the trash mail in her hand and sighed, flicking on the picture screen while she fixed dinner.

". . . Unlike anything ever seen before. We have the area cordoned off. There is nothing to be upset about."

"Mom?" Libby said louder, "MOM? Nik needs to use the phone?"

Sydney brushed her daughter off with a nod and a wave and turned back to the screen.

"Mom, are you okay? What are you watching?"

"Shhh, Libby. This is very important."

"The news, Mom? Is it Dad?"

"No, no, honey, but I do not think there will be baseball tonight."

"Why? Mom! What's going on?"

"Not so loud, Libby, I can't hear."

"What's going on?" Nik whispered by Libby's side.

"I'm not sure," she whispered back.

". . . We'll be sure to keep you updated, Al. This is Courtney Rallings, DSL News On-the-Spot. Now back to you."

Sydney turned to her daughter and friend. "Nik, call your mother. You're late and she's probably frantic after what I've just seen."

"What's happened?" Libby asked as Nik sprinted for the phone.

"A bomb has destroyed part of downtown, Libby. And there are more bombs streaking towards us. There is some kind of radiation from them, but the police do not know what it is. Oh, no!"

Both mother and daughter stared at the screen as the picture showed dozens of places of impact from the mysterious bombs. The newscaster gave the names as each new city was shown. "The targets of these bombs are unknown," he was saying. "They appear to be totally random, destroying everything within a half-mile radius." The camera switched back to the three horrified newscasters. "This just in. The governor has declared there is to be no school for the rest of the week. Repeat, school is canceled until next Monday. It is believed that the missiles will all have impacted the Earth by this time next week. Do not panic. There is no way to predict where the missiles will hit. Even now U.F. forces are rushing to our aide."

Libby stared at her mom. "Is Dad going to be okay?"

"I do not know, Libby. I hope so."

"Mrs. Van der Grif? My mom wants to know if I can spend the night. She can't come get me because they've blocked off the roads. The police are shutting everything down."

"Sure, Nik," Sydney smiled. "Tell your mom not to worry."

"Are we going to be okay, Mom?"

"We will know next week, hon. We will know when it is over."

Libby smiled. "At least we have no school."

Sydney hugged her daughter, blinking away tears. "Yes, no school. But I must work."

“Ace doesn't live very far. I can go to her house."

"Perhaps, Libby. Nik, what does your mother say?"

Nik slumped down in a chair. "She says to mind my manners and make sure I go to bed on time." Tears welled up in his eyes.

Libby looked at her mom. "Can we watch a movie? At least until dinner?"

Sydney started. Her mouth formed the word and her eyes flew open. Spinning around, she slammed open the oven door, retrieving her pan. "Dammit!" she cursed, "Ruined."

Libby gasped at her mother. "Mom!" She couldn't help it, she giggled.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Van der Grif, my mom burns everything."

Sydney glared at the dish. "It is not burned, Nik, but it does require careful watching to make properly." She sighed, glared at her giggling daughter. "I am happy now to have those pizzas, Libby."

"Oh, Mom," Libby laughed. "It's only dinner."

"Why do you not find a movie and I will make pizza?"

"C'mon, Nik," Libby said, "Then let's call Terry and Ace."

"Wow you have a lot of movies," Nik said a moment later.

"The new ones are on the bottom shelf. Mom won't alphabetize them until after we've seen them."

"Hey, you have 'Godzilla'!"

"Yeah, it's my dad's favorite."

"And I thought only my family liked those old movies."

"Old? 'Godzilla' is ancient. Here, how about this one? It always makes me laugh."

"Me, too."

The movie settled, Libby dialed Ace's number. Ace herself answered the phone, her chocolate-spattered face appearing on the screen. "Libby? Nik?" she asked, catching sight of them. "What's the matter?"

"Have you seen the news?" Libby asked.

"Uh, no, I haven't had time. My brothers are hogging it to watch cartoons, anyway. Why, what's the matter?"

"The aliens have blasted the baseball field!" Nik declared. "And school's canceled until next week!"

"They're shutting down all the roads," Libby continued.

Ace groaned. "Oh, no. My mom will never get home if there's a lot of traffic." She turned from the screen suddenly. "Jimmy, if you feed Patti that bug, I'll make you eat ten!" Muttering under her breath, Ace returned to the screen. "Look, guys, I've got my hands full here. I'll call you later, okay?"

The screen went dead. Libby dialed Terry's number.

"Hello?" An older boy answered the phone.

"Is Terry there, please?" Nik asked.
The screen showed the older boy turning his head. "Sure, just a minute," he said.

Nik covered his ears. Libby knew why a second later as the boy, had to be Concord, bellowed, "TERRY! PHONE!" He turned back to the screen. "He's coming." He disappeared from view and a minute later they could hear him yell, "TERRY! IT'S NIK! ON THE PHONE!"

The screen shifted abruptly to another room, showing Terry closing a door. "What's up, Nik?" he asked sitting down. "Have you heard the news?"

"Yeah," Nik answered. "Me and Libby watched it. I'm staying here tonight."

"Looks nasty, want to go have a look?"

"Yeah, Terry, but don't you have to study or something?"

"Nope, I get a break. School's canceled. University, too."

"Cool. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about Ace's? She's closest, isn't she?"

"Wait, Terry," Libby interrupted, "what are you talking about? My mother would never let me . . . ."

"Libby, we sneak out," Nik said. "My mother would have a cow if I told her, so we don't."

"It's no big deal if you don't want to," Terry told her. "The first time is the hardest."

"But I don't want to lie to my mom!"

"Libby, we can't go tomorrow, the police will be all over the streets. Haven't you ever been bombed before? Look, come or don't, it doesn't matter. I'll call Ace. Catch ya later."

"Sneak out?" Libby hissed at Nik.

He shrugged. "Only way we'll ever get close to it."

"Do you have a movie?"

"Yes, Mom," Libby hollered back.

"You can't tell her!" Nik hissed in warning.

"What are you two whispering about?" Sydney asked, coming in with a pizza in either hand.

"It's nothing, Mom."

"If you are thinking about sneaking to the bomb site, think again. The police have the place monitored. You will not get close but you will get in trouble."

"We were thinking about it, Mom. Do you think it's really dangerous?"

"That is not funny, young lady. You should be ashamed for even thinking such thoughts. You too, Nik."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but we were only thinking about it."

"I've never seen a real bomb site, Mrs. Van der Grif."

"Turn on the movie, Libby, and we will not speak of the bomb. Pizza, Nik?"

Libby left her mom studying in the office later that night. Nik, in the guest room, glared at her. "Why'd you say what you did?" he demanded.

"I can't lie to my mom," Libby protested. She sighed. "I do want to go with you, though."

"Remember your oath," Nik warned her.

"Shall I call Terry?"

"No, he's on his way by now. When does your mom go to sleep?"

Libby shrugged. "I don't know. But when she gets engrossed in her work, she'll stay in there for hours."

"Good. Let's go, then."

"How are we going to get out? My mom will hear the door."

"The front door? Get real, Libby. C'mon, we'll go through the window."

"They don't open."

"What?"

"The windows don't open. We have central air."

Nik rolled his eyes.

"Now what?"

"Do you have a back door?"

"Yeah, this way."

The two teenagers slipped out into the night, sneaking across town. The trip through the deserted streets was short and very quiet. Nik led Libby to a large bush in front of a small and rather battered house.

"Ace lives there?" Libby whispered.

"Yeah, shhh!"

"Libby, Nik," Ace whispered from her place by the
bush.

"What took you so long?" Terry asked.

"We were watching a movie."

"Her mom has the eyes of a hawk. You'd think she didn't trust us or something."

"That's ridiculous!" Libby snapped.

"Shhh!" Ace hissed. "The neighbors got a dog. Don't wake it up!"

"Are we ready to go, then?" Terry asked.

He led the way, expertly dodging police cars and ducking through alleys. They cris-crossed and zig-zagged through the streets, marveling how dark the place was with none of the stores open and all the lights off. Finally, they came towards a place that looked like it was covered in pink fog.

"What is it?" Libby asked, shivering in the cold. "It smells funny."

"Maybe it's the radiation," Nik suggested.

"Or they've found a new way to track intruders," Ace muttered.

"This way, guys, up the ravine. The park's on the other side."

They followed Terry up the drainage ditch, struggling to keep from slipping and making noise.

"I thought this was all supposed to be destroyed," Libby whispered when they paused to rest.

"Yeah, I heard that," Nik whispered back. "The bomb destroyed everything within a half-mile."

"I hate to say this now, guys," Terry whispered, "but we're inside that half-mile."

"And we haven't seen any cops since we entered the pink fog," Ace added.

"But nothing around here looks destroyed!" Libby whispered.

"It's a real-life mystery!" Nik whispered, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "This is so cool."

"But if the cops are back there," Ace whispered, "what's in here?"

"Want to find out?" Terry asked, pointing up the hill they crouched in the shadow of.

"I do." Libby didn't like mysteries. She especially despised being the subject of one.

Once at the top of the hill, the four sleuths slithered, belly-down, through the grass to peer at the baseball park below.

Nik gasped. "What have they done to the park?"

"It looks like some kind of field camp," Ace whispered, "but why?"

"And how?" Terry murmured. He pointed. "Look."

Two aliens in what appeared to be pink spacesuits appeared at the entrance of one of the buildings. One pointed up the hill -- straight at Libby and the others!

"Wait!" Terry hissed, as Libby tried to bolt. He pointed back down the hill. "Look!"

The other alien pointed in another direction.

"Are they arguing?" Ace asked.

"Looks like it," Nik whispered.

"I'm going closer," Terry whispered. "I can't believe the aliens have a camp right here in the middle of town and nobody notices."

"And what about all those dead people?" Ace asked, following.

"Wait for me!"

Libby paused a moment longer before slithering after. At the bottom of the hill, they paused again. Terry gestured to the shadows of the closest building. One at a time they dashed over. Creeping over to the window, Terry pointed up, then at Nik.

Nik nodded, then climbed onto Terry's back.
Terry leaned against the wall. Carefully, Nik climbed to stand on Terry's shoulders. Libby had to wonder just how often they had done this to do it so well.

"No good, Terry," Ace whispered, "you're too short." She poked Nik in the leg. When he looked down, she tapped her shoulders. Nik nodded and stepped across to Ace's shoulders when she too leaned against the wall.

"Done," Nik whispered, just as Ace decided she couldn't stand any longer.

"What did you see?" Terry asked when Nik was on the ground again.

"It looks like some kind of lab," Nik said. "There's all sorts of weird stuff in there."

"Do you think it's an invasion?" Ace asked Terry. He shrugged. "What else did you see? Anyone in there?"

"No, but I did see some of those pink suits." He grinned wickedly.

"Where's the door?"

Nik pointed down the side of the building. He paced off the distance, the others following closely.

"Where's the door?" Libby whispered. "I don't see anything."

"Shh!" Ace warned. She pointed with her chin.

Nik waved his arm in front of the doorway. He grinned back at the others as it slid open, shedding a rectangle of light. Terry waved them still and vanished within.

"It's no good," he murmured when he returned. "The suits would never fit us. But," he held up a vial, "I have this." He shook the liquid inside. "Watch this." Opening the bottle, he smeared the liquid on his hand.

Libby gasped as Terry's hand seemed to melt away. She shared the others’ grins.

"And there's lots more inside," Terry whispered.

"What is it?" Libby asked.

"Invisible stuff," Ace whispered. "We could go anywhere, do anything!"

"There has to be more to it," Nik whispered.

"Yeah, I think this stuff, with the pink fog-stuff, is what makes this place invisible."

"That must be why the aliens are wearing those suits."

"Wait," Libby whispered urgently. "Terry, look at your hand. It's pink!"

"I can see my hand," Terry muttered, "amazing."

"I guess it doesn't work," Ace whispered, disappointed.

"Hey, look out!"

Nik leapt at Terry, knocking him down.

"What, are you crazy!" Terry hissed.

"Shit!" Ace flattened herself, pulling Libby down. "Aliens," she whispered, "coming right this way."

"Crawl," Terry told Libby. "Go! Now!"

As quickly as they could, the four teenagers crawled beside the wall to the edge of the shadows. "Run for it!" And run they did, not stopping until they reached the safety of the culvert. Terry wiped his hands on his pants.

"Come on, we can't stay here." Slipping the vial into his pocket, Terry led the others in a jog towards home.

Libby was exhausted by the time she and Nik slipped back inside her house. She couldn't imagine how tired Terry would be, with more than a mile left to go. She dragged the drooping Nik into the guest room and tucked him into bed. Slipping back out, she went to her room and changed into her pajamas. She tip-toed to her mother's office and peeked in. Her mom was still there, yawning while she typed. Libby glanced at the clock on the wall. Three o'clock? We've been gone almost five hours!

She knocked lightly on the door. "Mom?"
Sydney started, dashing her hands across the keys of her computer. She squinted at her daughter through her glasses. "Libby? What are you doing up?"

"I'm thirsty. Why are you still awake?"

Sydney yawned and stretched. "Oh, dear, I had not realized it was so late."

"Will you be going to bed soon?"

"I sure will, hon, go on back to bed."

Libby nodded, grateful to escape to her bed. She woke long after her normal hour. A note on the refrigerator read: cereal for breakfast, Libby. Stay home today and wait for Nik's mother. Eat supper as usual. I will be late home. Mom.
Libby sighed. She hated cold cereal. The phone rang as she opened a cabinet for bowls. "Yes?" she answered the ringing.

"Libby, it's Terry, turn on your view screen."

Libby flipped the switch, rubbing her eyes. "Terry?" She stared at a pink . . something or other. "Are you under all that, Terry?"

He pulled off the hood and goggles. "Cool, huh?"

"How'd you do that?"

"The stuff washed right off my hand, so I thought I would try to make a pink spacesuit. There's plenty of the stuff left. Shall I come over?"

"Yeah! I can't wait to try that. And Nik's still here."

Terry nodded. "Thought so. His mom has to work, too, you know. I'll be right there."

Libby dashed around the house, finding clothes and shoes she could dye. She found her old sunglasses and her ski hood. Gloves and her torn jacket followed and the bucket her mom used for gardening, when she had time.

"What's all that for?" Nik asked, coming into the kitchen.

"We're going to make pink suits, like the aliens."
Nik perked up. "Really?"

Someone knocked on the door. Libby raced to open it. Before it was even partly open, Ace slipped inside, nearly catching her bag on the handle.

"Whew! That was close. Thought that cop was going to see me."

"How do you know where I live?"

"Terry told me. Is he here yet? Oh, hi, Nik, I brought some stuff for you. Has Terry told you what he thinks about this pink stuff?"

Libby shook her head wordlessly, closing the door.

"Oh, he thinks it must render a person invisible. Seems that's what the cops think, too." She held up a disk. "Check this out."
Libby fetched her laptop and inserted the disk.

"Wow!" Nik gasped.

The park, what they had just visited, looked like a pile of rubble. Nothing was standing. Bits and pieces of buildings and cars littered what was left of the streets.

"Pretty cool illusion, huh?" Ace asked. She dumped out her bag. "Here, Nik, try on this stuff. I raided my brother's closet. Most of this stuff should fit. And I brought three sets of swimming goggles, one for each of us."

Nik reappeared a moment later. "The boots are kind of large, but if I wear two pairs of socks, they'll stay on."

Ace nodded, satisfied. "What have you got, Libby?" She sorted through the clothes, giving it a thumbs-up. "What’ve you to eat? I'm starved!"

Ace scarfed down three bowls of cereal before Terry arrived. "It worked!" he told them, laughing. "I could walk right by those cops and they didn't even know I was there!"

"Well, c'mon, then," Ace said. "I want this stuff, too."

"Do you have a bucket?" He shook his head at the one Libby showed him.

"A bag?" Ace suggested. "Then if we turn it inside out, we can carry it, with no one knowing."

Libby got out three bags, dumping her stuff in one. Terry used the bucket to fill the bags with water. Then he added a few drops from the vial.

"How long does it take?" Nik asked, tying off his bag.

"Not long. Make sure you shake it up well, though."

Libby ushered her friends outside where they stood, shaking the bags.

"What do you think that was, last night, Terry?" Libby asked.

"I don't know."

"I think they're looking for something," Nik said. "I mean, look at that stuff in there. And there's other places, random places, where more bombs hit."

"There's supposed to be more missiles hitting all week," Libby added.

"So?" Ace asked. "With this stuff," she held up her bag, "what do we need worry about the aliens for?"

"I'm sure they've figured out we've been there by now," Terry said. "Question is, what will they do?"

"I saw a computer," Nik said. He looked over at Ace. "Do you think you could hack into their database and find out why they're here?"

Ace's eyes lit up. "Hacking into an alien computer?" she mused. "I like how that sounds."

"But the top scientists in the world haven't been able to," Libby protested.

"I may still be in high school, but no hacker has ever gotten into as much trouble as I have," Ace boasted. She grinned. "And that doesn't count the times I haven't been caught!"

"Can you do it?" Terry asked. "With some definite proof, we may be able to show the authorities."

"Wait, think about this a minute," Libby said. "These aliens are really powerful. They're able to fool not only our eyes, but all our senses, not to mention our equipment."

"Unless it's a conspiracy," Nik said.

"Too many movies," Ace said with a sigh. "What makes you think it's a conspiracy, Nik?"

"Who was able to get close enough to get pictures?"

Ace's mouth fell open. They all turned to look at Terry. He shrugged. "A really big zoom lens? I know zilch about photography, guys."

"Why don't we just ask the press?" Libby asked. "We saw their pictures on the news last night and they looked like the ones we saw on Ace's disk."

Terry's face brightened. "Good idea. I'll call as soon as I get home. Ummm, you probably can take those out of there now."

"Will this stuff wash off?" Libby asked as she laid her clothes on the lawn to dry.

"I put mine in the wash this morning," Terry said, "and it's still invisible. When it's wet, though, even I couldn't see it."

"You know, that's odd," said Nik.

"What is?" Ace asked, dumping water from a shoe.

"Well, don't you think it's weird that we can see this pink stuff, but no one else can?"

"Can it be because we actually went into the pink fog?" Libby asked.

"But we saw the fog," Nik pointed out. "Nobody else sees it."

Terry scratched his head. "I don't know, Nik. I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, we are the Freaks Club," Ace murmured. "Maybe there's something to that?"

Libby shook her head. "We're not freaks, Ace. We may be a little different than other people, but we're still people."

"Sill, it is kind of odd," Nik insisted, pushing up his glasses. He held up the goggles. "Hey, how'm I supposed to wear these, anyway?"

They laughed, breaking the tension. "I know," Libby said. "Don't dump out your bag yet, Nik." She returned shortly with a pair of plastic glasses. "These were my dad's. They're so he doesn't hurt his eyes when he works in the garage. They'll fit over your glasses, like this."

She giggled.

Ace smiled. "Not bad, Nik. Maybe you could start a new fashion with those."

"They look kind of like the goggles we wore in chem lab," Nik said, taking them off.

Libby nodded. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that." She felt her jacket. "Hey, this stuff is already dry."

Nik and Ace checked their clothes. "Wow, that was fast," Nik said.

Terry grinned. "Took me by surprise, too, when I did mine. Well, I better get back, before my mom decides I've been unsocial long enough." Pulling on his jacket, hood and goggles, the pink Terry vaulted over the fence and was gone.

"Me, too," Ace said, pulling on her things over her clothes. She put her running shoes in her bag and pulled her sweater over the top. She tucked her hair into the hood, pulled on the goggles and waved. In moments she, too, was gone over the fence.

Nik and Libby turned the bags inside out to dry, shaking the water off the safety glasses and folding up the other clothes. Inside, they flicked on the screen.

The doorbell woke Libby. Before she registered the noise, she heard the door opening and an ecstatic voice yelling, "Mom!"

She padded out to the door, to see a beautiful woman in an elegant silk suit hugging a tear-stained Nik. The woman looked up.

"You must be Libby. I'm Anne Wilks, Phoenix's mother."

Libby shook her hand. "Hi. We were just watching the news."

Anne's face tightened. "Oh, those dreadful aliens, scaring me half to death. The thought of my poor son, out there on that field was almost more than I could bear!" She hugged Nik tighter. "Come, Nik, let's get home. Thank you so much, Libby and tell your mother I'm extremely thankful."

Libby waved from the doorway. Her house now seemed so empty and lonesome. Sighing, she leaned against the now-shut door.

The phone rang.

Libby raced to answer it, flicking on the view screen. "Yes?"

"Libby, I talked to the news station. Guess what they told me?"

"What? What is it, Terry?"

"They say the pictures were taken by satellite. And they told me that the satellites are picking up an enormous amount of radiation from the area. Radiation, Libby! Guess what that means?" He didn't wait for her to answer, continuing, "It means the aliens will be able to track us, and anyone else for that matter, by tracking the radiation given off by that pink stuff."

"If they even think to do that," Libby said.

"Yeah, but if they do? Libby, we have to get this stuff out of our homes! Is Nik still there?"

"No, he just left."

"Dammit, I knew I should have called you first."

"I still have his stuff," Libby told him. "Nik forgot to take it with him."

"Oh, good. I'm going to send you a map. Go to that place tonight. We plan to meet at midnight. Don't worry about Nik, I'll call him later. Bring the stuff, Libby. See you tonight."

"Bye," she said to the blank screen.

Getting up, Libby piled Nik's clothes and the other bags into one bag and set it on her bed with her own pink clothes. That done, she prowled about the house until suppertime. She flicked on the news while she ate leftover pizza. The news was all about the bombings that day and projected ones for the night. She couldn't stomach the pictures for long, instead deciding to work on her English assignment.

Sydney found her daughter asleep in the middle of her laptop, one finger pressing down the space bar. Smiling gently, she moved the offending arm, shaking her daughter gently.

"What, what?" Libby murmured drowsily.

"I am home, hon. Go to bed, it is late."

"Hmmmmm, late . . . . OH!" she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Turning to her laptop, she scowled. "Fifteen pages of nothing," she muttered darkly.

Sydney chuckled. "Turn it off and get some sleep, it is almost midnight."

"Good-night, Mom," Libby called after her mom. Quickly, she shut off her computer and pulled on her invisible clothes from where they lay heaped in a pile on the floor. She slid the laptop on her desk and roughed up her bed to look as if she slept there. Hefting the bag over her shoulder, Libby paused in front of her mirror. I look like a burglar. A pink burglar.

She turned off her light and went out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Down the hall, she checked on her mother. Smiling, she watched for a moment. Her mom had beaten her to bed. She hadn't even changed clothes. Libby turned off the light and closed the door. She took the spare key and tiptoed out the front door. Pulling on the goggles, Libby set off at a fast walk.

The others were waiting, in their pink clothes, when Libby arrived, panting and out of breath from running the last few blocks.

"Did anyone see you?" Terry asked.

Libby shook her head, giving the bag to Nik. "I'm sorry I'm late. I fell asleep."

"We were just talking about this radiation thing," Ace said. "I think we're much safer with this stuff at home. How else will we be able to meet like this?"

"Do we have to keep meeting like this?" Libby asked.

"Until the bomb crisis is over, yes," Terry said.

"So why don't we just hang onto our pink stuff until then and then hide them here."

"Where are we?" Libby asked.

"This is the old shed behind the witch's house," Nik said. "I live only a few blocks from here."

"There's no witch here, kids."

All four jumped. "What was that?" Libby cried.

An old man stepped from behind the dusty tractor. "There's no witch here," he repeated. "Hasn't been, not since I was a boy." He squinted at them in the dark. "Who are you kids?"

"I'm Libby, and this is Terry, Ace, and Nik. We're sorry. We didn't mean to bother you."

"It's no bother. Have you seen the aliens? They came snooping by earlier. Keep me awake, they do."

The four exchanged surprised glances. "You can see the aliens, sir?" Terry asked.

"Course I can. Think I'm blind? I may be old, but I know an alien when I sees one. Only things that wear pink anymore."

"Why did they come here?" Libby asked.

"Want to see my inventions, I bet. Thas why they come. I'm a famous inventor. I see into the future, I do. I knew you would be here." He turned away, beckoning for them to follow. "Want to see? Want to see my inventions?"

They stared at each other a moment longer. Terry shrugged. “What harm can it do?"

"What if it's a trap?" Ace hissed.

"He seems nice enough."

"No, Libby," Nik said, "he's hiding something. We shouldn't go."

"Hey, I think together, the four of us can take one old man," Terry stood. "Come on."

The old man waited on the other side of the dead tractor. He beckoned them to stand back. Placing a hand on the fender, the old man pressed buttons only he could see and feel. Before their eyes, a door shimmered to life on the side of the tractor.

"Wow, what an illusion!" Ace murmured. She stepped back as the old man stepped within.

Terry was quick to follow, the old man not shying from the pink-clad Terry, with a head that seemingly floated above the ground. Libby stepped into the elevator next. Hesitantly, Ace stepped in, then Nik. The doors slid shut and the descended. The drop took several minutes, but at last the doors opened.

The old man stepped out into a marvelous underground chamber. A vast computer network lined three-quarters of the circular room. Two doors, one to either side of the elevator completed the scene. The old man turned to them as they stepped into the room and the elevator doors slid closed.

"I have waited for you for a long, long time," he said. "Come, this way."

The four pink-clad teenagers followed the old man through one of the doors. A large, metallic dog leaped at him.

"No! Down, Dog." He smiled, patting the robot fondly. "Kids, may I present Dog, my first creation. Dog, these are friends."

The robotic dog growled, his lips curling menacingly.

"Dog! No!" The old man rapped the dog across the muzzle. He grinned at the teenagers. "Don't worry, he's really quite friendly.”

"Who are you, really?" Ace asked, thrilled by all the machinery surrounding them.

"You can call me Mack. And you are right, Ace, this is a disguise. It has served me well." So said, he pulled off the wig and fake beard. He smiled. "It does even better in the dark."

"Where are we?" was Terry's question.

"This is my machine shop, if you will," Mack said flinging his arm in a wide circle. He strode across the catwalk and pointed to one of the silver cylinders. "Inside these are your futures, kids."

"How can you know of our future?" Libby asked, intrigued.

"I know everything about you, Libya."

"Then tell us why we should believe you," Nik demanded.

"Ah, the quiet one. Very well, I indeed know your temper, Phoenix. I am the Keeper. I built these machines, protected them through the ages. I kept them safe for you. You four will save the world."

They exchanged glances with each other.

"You have been called together out of a great need, the need of these normal people around you. They know you are different. Do you not feel it also? You are the Freaks Club, no? You have a purpose. Terrene, you are as solid as the very earth itself, finding strength in your friendships. Ace, Amber, you soar through the computer network, as you yet cannot soar through the air. You find peace in your solitude. Phoenix, inside you burns a fierce fire, frightening, yet it gives you purpose. Libya, as soft as the rain, and with a force as great as any flood, you have an ear that cannot be deceived. Tell me, Libby, what do you each have in common with one another?"

"Umm, I don't know. How should I know?"

"Perhaps a clue, no? Very well. Terry, what does your name mean again?"

"It's a word meaning the ground or terrain."

"As solid as the Earth, you might say. Ace, why do you go by that name?"

"It's a nickname from my father. He wanted me to be a pilot someday."

"So you can soar through the air, hmmm? Nik, aren't there legends about your namesake?"

"The phoenix? Of course, lots."

"Birds of fire and straight out of myth. Have you put it together yet, Libby?"

"Well, if what you're getting at has something to do with our names, yes, I think I know what you mean. Terry is the only one who doesn't fit. You see, people once believed there were only three elements, air, fire, and water. My name means rain, Nik has the fire in his name, and Ace was the term used for pilots who fought in World War one. Air, in other words. But what about Terry? I know he has earth, but where does that fit in?"

"Silly child, earth is what holds the rest together. It soaks up rain, smothers fire, and creates air by its absence."

"What does it all mean?"

"These robots," Mack went on, ignoring Terry's question, "I made for you four. I formed them from four different mediums, air, fire, water, and from the very earth itself. Each of you were chosen by destiny to pilot, if you will, each of these mediums, to be its master."

"What are you talking about?" Ace demanded. "How can we master what we cannot see or feel or touch?"

"Can you tell me why, at such an early age, you fell from your bedroom window, yet survived, unscathed?" He scratched his chin. "One might have thought you could fly."

"How can you know that?" Ace snapped. "No one knows that. That's why we came here, to get rid of those stupid rumors!"

"But you cannot deny that you dream of flying. Not inside a cockpit, but free, like a bird."

"So what, I'll bet everyone dreams like that."

"If that is so, perhaps Nik can tell me why he can start a fire simply by thinking about it or why Terry digs holes in his backyard, connecting them with tunnels that never collapse. Hmmm? Well, perhaps Libya can tell me how she knows how to swim, when she's never been in water in all her life?"

"If you know so much about us," Terry asked, "why do we know nothing about you?"

"I had nothing to do with choosing you. Fate chose you. You have a destiny to fulfill. I am merely here to pave the way." He patted one of the cylinders. "These, on the other hand, are no mere robots. All you have to do is step inside and all your questions will be answered. I know stepping inside such a small place will be difficult for you, Ace, but you must trust me. All of you. The lives of the people up there," he pointed up, "depend on you and your acceptance of your destinies."

Terry stepped forward. "Come on, gang," he said, turning to them, "I knew there had to be something more. This is our chance to really make a difference." Without looking back, He strode up to the cylinder he could feel tugging at his mind. He stood at last before the transparent door. Taking a deep breath, he walked in.



Terry opened his eyes to darkness. He could feel the weight of the dirt around him, its smell permeating his entire body. Experimentally, he moved his arm. The dirt, the soil, or whatever it was, moved along with him, like another skin. He felt stronger and more secure. He couldn't explain the feeling, except to liken it to the blanket he'd carried as a toddler. He wasn't hot or cold, comfortable without feeling smothered.

I could stay in here forever, he thought. He could feel himself relaxing, the buffer around him soothing away all the stress and concerns, doubts and second-thoughts that waited, hovering, always on the edge of his mind. And for the first time in a long time, Terry felt rested, ready to take on the world. It's like we'll be superheros, he marveled, taking on the bad guys, hiding in plain view, and saving the world . . . Then isn't there something I'll have to say, some message or saying to transform or whatever? What did Mack call these things? Mediums? And mine is the ground, earth, like my name.

"Earth is my strength . . . . "

"What?" Terry asked, looking around.

"I call upon my strength -- transform!"

"These are your words of power, Terry. Say them."

"Earth is my strength, I call upon my strength, transform?"

From deep inside, Terry let out a roar as unfathomable power ripped through him, exploding into the medium and molding it to shape. It was as if he were being wrapped, pulling on a glove, and stepping inside a new skin, all at once. Suddenly, the whole world opened up to him, new sights and sounds, tastes and feelings. He could feel the beat of every heart, the whisper of every voice; Terry was overwhelmed. He started to struggle, his mind crying out against the invasion. The voice calling to him had to increase its volume.

"You need not fear me, child."

"Who are you?"

"I am you and more. I am the earth."

"What are you doing to me?"

"I do nothing. You called on me to bring your mind to focus. I am here."

"Go away!"

"Impossible. Terrene, I name you. Brother, son of the earth, and the earth's keeper. I seek merely to aide you in your transformation. I am your servant."

"I don't fear you, but this, all of this, it's too much."

"I do not understand. You have carved your path since your birth, hiding yourself within me, yet now you cower in fear and refuse what I would offer. Why?"

"You startled me. It's too much at one time. I can't hear everything, see everything, be everywhere. I will go mad."

"You have heard the voice of the world from the first. Why does it frighten you now?"

"I, I don't know. I never thought you were what I heard. I didn't know what I was hearing."

"You wish to refuse me," the voice was heart-wrenchingly sad.

"No! Please, don't leave. Now that I know, I can not help but seek you out."

"Then I shall show you all my mysteries!"



Nik watched warily as Terry vanished inside the cylinder. "What you said about me," he said to Mack, "it's all true, but how did you know all that?"

"I know everything about you four. I am here to guard your secrets. The very elements of this world created you. I am here to guide your way."

"You're speaking in riddles," Nik complained.

"Well, I'm not waiting around," Ace declared. "I want to know what's inside those things." She could feel the breeze from the cylinder to her left and she felt compelled to go closer. Just before she entered, she looked back at Nik and Libby. "Don't be so glum, Nik," she murmured. "I'll be all right. Wait and see."

Ace stepped inside the cylinder . . . and plummeted. She screamed. "No, no! Stooooop!" Ace flung her arms out as she yelled and, incredibly, she came to a halt, hanging midair. "Wow!" she breathed, her heart pounding, "that was amazing!" Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd just done. "I'm flying! I'm really flying!"

She lay back, floating, as she'd never been able to do in water, letting the breeze ruffle her clothes and hair. "This is so wild," she said, hearing her voice resonate around the chamber. "It's like, like I'm alone, totally alone, and nothing can touch me." Grinning from a sudden impulse, she turned on her stomach and dived downward, laughing from the sensation. She swooped back up and turned a somersault. "This is fantastic!" She whooped from the pure pleasure of it.

"Air brings me peace, Mack said. Well, I call upon that peace, what am I supposed to do?"

The answer stunned and startled her. She strained to understand the echoes.

"Transform? Is that it? How?"

The words were ripped from her lips by a vast gust of air. Suddenly, Ace felt very, very enclosed. And the space was getting smaller, and smaller. Ace trembled, closing her eyes. The air grew colder, pressing against her. But the power surging through her veins was exhilarating. Ace zoomed up, twisted and turned, enjoying her freedom of movement.

She halted a moment, staring at her hands, her feet, her legs and arms. "Am I a robot?" she asked. "What is happening?"

"Greetings!" came the silvery voice. "Many are the years since last you flew with me."

"Are you . . . the air?"

The voice laughed. "I suppose you could call me such. I am you, and you are me. I have missed you, child of the winds, daughter to flight. Feel this power I give you freely."

"Why? Why do you do this?"

The voice laughed again. "You ask me this? In your being am I more than I ever could be alone. Would you refuse my gifts?"

"Never. I just never dreamed that my dreams could come true like this! Oh, thank you!" Ace laughed. "I have never been so happy!"




Libby was only a step behind Ace to reach her cylinder. She needed so much to figure this all out. And if I can help my father . . .

Libby once went on an undersea cruise. Stepping into the cylinder was like being back on the observation deck, with the sea all around her. Except this time, Libby actually felt a part of it. There was no barrier between her and the ocean. She could feel the water all around and yet she was not afraid. Intrigued, she took it all in, reveling in the strange sensations. Here there was no struggle to conform and no desire to be accepted. Here, she just was, with no need for words or thoughts.

Soft pinging brought with it the feeling of raindrops on her skin, soft and yet they could not be ignored. In the music of the rain, Libby could hear -- was that singing? Surely it must be! She strained her ears to listen. What were they singing? She held herself perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe for fear she would disrupt the beautiful music. The soft lullaby lulled Libby into a light doze. She could almost imagine a chorus of angels appearing from out of the fine mist. The words became clearer, with one distinct phrase: Water is the life-force. Call us into your heart.

Libby opened her mouth, singing along with them. Only, she felt a strange reluctance to say the words. Instead, she shouted, to one and all, "Water is the life-force. I call upon all life. Let me transform!"

The rush was like being caught outside in a tropical storm, but Libby was not battered or blown away. She felt strong and powerful, ready to take on the world. Hold on, Dad, I'm coming!



Nik awkwardly shifted feet. He was uncomfortable left alone with Mack and his robotic beast. "Where are they going?" he managed to ask.

"To find out why they are different."

"And me? What about me?"

Mack smiled kindly at the boy. "Nik, you will have to discover that for yourself." He stepped away from the cylinder, pointing back to the control room. "I'll be in there. Come, Dog."

With Mack gone, Nik felt even more uncertain. He was nervous, but even more he didn't want to be left behind. Ace and Terry were his closest friends. And Libby was now, too. He couldn't let them down. This was all so very weird.

What Nik walked into sent him reeling back toward a door that was no longer there. He was trapped in the firey pits of hell . . . except Nik didn't feel hot or cold, which was strange. He was always cold, even in the hottest time of year. He looked around, left and right and up and DOWN! The absurdity of the situation made him pause.

I can't be melting, he told himself. That only happens in movies. So what is happening? Can I really be ankle-deep in molten lava? Curiously, he dipped a hand into the lava, holding up the material to stare at it. My glasses aren't even fogged up. Can this be real? Nik threw himself over sideways into the lava -- no, it's magma, really. He swam a few strokes. This is so bizarre!

The sudden shaking jolted Nik to his feet. He stared about, nervous, but tripped over his feet as he tried to run. He plowed into the magma, right at the feet of a fire-demon. Nik scooted backward, so awed he couldn't speak.

The fire-demon leaned down to peer at Nik. "What are you?"

"I'm Nik," he stammered.

The demon rolled the word around in his mouth. "Nik."

"What is it doing here?" asked another demon from behind him. This demon seemed to be made from the same magma Nik sat in.

"I don't know," Nik said. "Mack said to come in."

But the demons did not hear. They had turned to watch a magnificent bird, with feathers of fire and obsidian eyes, emerge from one of the bursts of steam.

"Quit pestering the child," the bird said, its voice remarkably soft for so large a creature.

The two fire-demons looked down at Nik. "He is an intruder," said one. "Why is he here?" asked the other.

"I invited him," the bird said in a voice that brooked no argument. "In him I will be reborn."

"He has not said the words!" protested one demon. "He does not know the words," said the other.

"What are you talking about?" Nik demanded.

"He speaks!" said one demon. "He dares speak before the Phoenix!" screamed the other.

Nik rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up!" he snapped.

"Insolent child!" "He shall die for this!"

Nik ducked their grasping hands. "Do not touch me!" he declared, standing. "I am Phoenix!"

The fire-demons halted, staring at this short, red-headed, freckled, bespectacled, child. "This cannot be!" they roared.

The Phoenix chuckled. "Well said. Indeed, Phoenix, we are well met. Who else could bear this land of fire?"

"Tell me the words," Nik pleaded. "What am I to say?"

The phoenix inclined its head. "Tell me, child, why choose the fire?"

"Choose the fire?" Nik echoed. "What do you mean?"

"You have refused me before."

"I was not ready."

"And you are now? What has changed?"

"I have friends now, friends who trust and believe in me. I believe in me. Am I not here? Tell me the words!"

"You know the words."

"Don't speak in riddles! I hate that!"

One of the fire-demons knelt at Nik's side. "Fire shall give me purpose."

"I call upon your purpose," added the other, also kneeling.

"Transform," whispered the phoenix.

"Fire gives me purpose," Nik repeated, "I call upon your purpose. Transform!"

The phoenix vanished in the steam, sucked in when Nik took in a breath. Nik let his breath out in a rush. The parts of his body armor seemed to grow right out of his skin, hissing as the magma cooled to form the dense exoskeleton. The last thing he recalled seeing was the delighted grins on the faces of the fire-demons.



Terry stepped out onto the catwalk, feeling incredibly heavy in his new body. With his new connection to the earth, he knew the others were transforming and so he waited. Ace was next out, her robotic body a silvery-white color that shimmered like a rainbow on a rainy day.

Ace stared at the chocolate robot standing on the catwalk. "Terry?" she asked.

He grinned, though she could not see the expression, nodding his head. "How do you feel, Ace?"

"Incredible! Terry, I can fly!"

His smile widened. "That's wonderful, Ace. I know how much this means to you." As he spoke, Terry realized he spoke the truth. He did know. He could feel Ace's elation and wonder. Like holding a hand over a flame and knowing it was hot, Ace's feelings colored the atmosphere around her.

"Hey, you two," Libby said, greeting the others. Her blue robot clumped toward them. "Where's Nik?"

Terry and Ace glanced at each other. Terry felt Ace's fear, a mirror of his own jab of concern and worry.

"Never fear, I am here!" Nik said, stepping out in his orange-shading-to-red robot. He laughed with pure delight at their surprise. "This is so cool!"

Ace chuckled in relief.

"We were a little worried for a second," Terry said.

"Knew you'd be okay," Libby said, smiling.

"Shall we go, then?" Nik asked. "Mack said he'd be waiting in the control room."

"Hey, lead the way," Terry said, waving his arm.

Behind Nik, they filed into the control room, which now seemed quite too small. Mack looked up from the computer terminal, swiveling around in his chair. He smiled at them as Dog let out a surprised yip.

"Glad you could all join me," Mack said. "You ready to kick some alien butt?"

"You bet!" Ace said. "Just point me at 'em!"

"I'm afraid it isn't quite so simple." Mack pointed at the other door. "I'm going to have to transport you."

"Transport how?" Terry asked.

"Do you know 'Star Trek'? It's vaguely similar to that." He waved toward the door. "Go on, now."

Terry took the initiative, entering first. He stepped into the beam . . . and vanished! Ace gasped, launching herself after. Nik wasn't about to be last this time. He followed, then Libby.

Libby had only enough time to blink before she found herself floating in the dark. No, it wasn't precisely dark, was it?

"Is this space?" Nik asked, spinning nearby.

Terry felt extremely isolated. "It sure is, champ." He pointed. "Look."

Ace zoomed by, headed straight toward the blue-green planet revolving beside them. "This is awesome!" she crowed. She halted, staring back at her friends. "Haven't you guys figured out how to use your jets? Come on! Look, the aliens!"

Libby turned to stare. "Why, those aren't bombs."

"They're ships!" Nik sputtered.

"Pink, but they are ships. Probably the same stuff as we found in the lab."

"Don't just stand there," Ace said, zooming off. "Let's go."

Terry activated his jets, zooming ahead. He headed straight for the nearest alien ship, his fist extended.

"Terry! What are you doing?" Libby cried, shooting after him.

Terry slammed into the ship, ripping through it to the other side. "I know what I'm doing, guys," he said, watching the ship explode. "Check your own weapons. Missiles, Ace. Lasers, Libby."

"And my shock waves!" Nik shouted, firing at another pink ship. Hit by an invisible fist, the ship tumbled end over end, exploding from the inside out.

"My turn. Missiles away!"

Libby turned to a new target, carving chunks out of the ship with her ice-blue lasers.

"Nik!" Terry shouted. "Look out!"

Nik flashed his jets, diving out of the way of the alien ship's lasers. "Yow!" he whistled. "That was close."

"They must be able to see us," Libby said as she dodged.

"Well, let's take care of the bastards!" Ace growled. "Missiles away! Take that!"

For long minutes, the four struggled against their foes. Soon they were chasing after the aliens' pink ships as they tried to flee.

"We can't let them get away!" Terry told his friends. "We can't let them warn their buddies."

"Stand back!" Nik shouted. Taking a deep breath, he aimed his shock waves after the handful of ships trying to flee. Phoenix, give me purpose!

"Wow, Nik, that was terrific!" Ace said, whooping with delight as the ships exploded.

Terry caught Nik's extreme exhaustion in the second before the orange-red robot tumbled, out of control. "Nik!"

Ace shot by Libby, her jets propelling her as fast as she could think to increase their power. Her hand shot out, trying to grab Nik before he could slam into one of the larger pieces of pink junk.




WILL ACE GRAB NIK IN TIME?
Catch THE NEXT EPISODE,
"Challenge of the Phoenix" ,
TO FIND OUT!