Making the Galaxy Great
I Want Some

“Excuse me, I just saw someone I know,” Jason told Grace.

Grace called his name as he ran toward the door. When he opened it, he found himself in what must once have been the room where the priest got ready for mass. A door on the other side of the room stood ajar. It opened to a narrow alley between the church and the building next door, whose brick wall was sagging like love handles on a middle-aged man and looked as if it might collapse at any moment. In addition, Jason’s nose told him that one or more people had recently used the alley as a toilet. Eyes up, he glanced in both directions, unsure which way the Yrrean had gone. Then he heard a dog barking.

Prince. Good girl!

He ran up the alley toward the street and saw Prince lunging and baring her teeth at the terrified alien in the hoodie. Several of the other women were yelling at the dog to stop. Its stocky owner was leaning back on the bench, attempting — albeit with minimal effort — to restrain the animal. Jason put his arms around the woman in the hoodie and pulled her back.

“L’harra, it’s okay, I’m here to help,” he whispered quickly. “I can take you to Agent McCauley.”

She tried to pull away from him and when she did, her hood fell off, exposing her pale face, thin hair, and protruding brow. That was a problem, but not the main one.

“You’re not L’harra, are you?” asked Jason.

“Shit, look at that face. Chick must be on some serious stuff,” he heard someone say.

“I want some,” said another, and all the women laughed.

“That ain’t no chick,” said yet another.

Jason stepped between the Yrrean and the dog and quickly pulled the hood back up. “Do you know where L’harra is?” he whispered, then repeated: “I can take you to Agent McCauley.”

She shook her head. “Agent? No,” she said in a hushed voice that sounded like a breeze blowing through autumn leaves. She twisted again, trying in vain to free herself from Jason’s grasp. He remembered what Michael had told him, about how the Dalites’ extra strength faded after a few weeks with Earth’s gravity. If so, this Yrrean must have been on Earth for some time.

Jason guided her down the street toward his car. “She’s my cousin,” he called back. “She needs help.”

As soon as they rounded the corner where he’d parked, they ran smack into Grace Hauck and her receptionist.

“Mr. Fleming, I’m gonna have to ask you to let go of D’roya,” said Grace. Her no-nonsense, businesslike demeanor had taken on a hard edge.

D’roya?

“You don’t understand,” he replied uncertainly. “She’s . . . she’s not from around her.”

“We don’t care where our guests come from,” said Grace. “We help anyone who needs it.”

Jason was embarrassed and frustrated in equal helpings. He knew he sounded like an uncaring asshole, yet he couldn’t just let the Yrrean go. “But she’s not actually—”

“Human?” said the receptionist, who suddenly didn’t seem very jolly.

Jason’s mouth froze open and his eyes darted between Grace and her assistant.

“We’re well aware of D’roya’s origins,” said Grace. “What I’d like to know is how you know.”

Jason let go of the alien, who slipped between Grace and the receptionist. “Whoa,” he said. “I think we’d better start over. What kind of shelter are you running here?”

Grace put a hand on D’roya’s shoulder. “As I just told you, we take care of anyone in need of help. Now, answer my question. How do you know about our alien visitors? Are you from Area 69?”

Was Jason the only person who didn’t know about the aliens, and the secret facility outside of town?

“What’s Area 69?” he replied lamely.

“This guy’s a douche,” said the receptionist in the Because We Care t-shirt. “Let’s just leave.”

“No, no, wait!” said Jason. “I just found out about all of this . . . interplanetary stuff . . . a couple of days ago, by accident.” He turned to D’roya and spoke quickly. “I apologize; I thought you were L’harra. That’s another Yrrean like you, and a few days ago L’harra ran into me — literally — and dropped a whatchamacallit, a demerrat, because she — they — were being chased by some other . . . a Haku. I thought you were L’harra, and if you were, you might still be in danger so I was trying to help.”

Grace turned to her receptionist. “Tina, I think we’d better take this back inside to my office.”