Making the Galaxy Great
That's Your Plan?

Tina led them into the plexiglass-enclosed vestibule. “Before we go any further,” the Yrrean said, turning to McCauley, “who the hell are you?”

“Agent Angela McCauley.”

Tina’s small mouth opened as if it was about to breathe out fire. “What the fuck? You’re from Area 69, aren’t you?”

“We’re calling it A-69 now,” Jason interjected.

“Shut up!” shouted both Tina and McCauley.

“Fleming, what the shit?” asked Tina. “You promised to keep your goddam mouth shut about us.”

Jason’s face burned. He held up his hands in a surrender gesture. “I know. I’m sorry. But it’s not what you think. We’re in a buttload of trouble and everything could go to pieces — including your whole refugee gig. Because of L’harra.”

Tina glared at both of them. Finally the alien shook its head and muttered, “Come on then.”

“I like this one,” McCauley told Jason.

Tina led them into the sanctuary-turned-common area. It was empty and the television was turned off. Only about a third of the ceiling lights were still on, giving the former church a Christmas Eve Mass kind of feel. “Keep your voices down,” Tina whispered. “It’s lights out at eleven around here, so a lot of people are sleeping.”

Tina motioned for them to wait and then disappeared into one of the rooms along the right side of the sanctuary. Jason heard muffled voices, then Grace and Tina emerged together from the room. Grace wore a yellow t-shirt over navy sweatpants and brushed her hair back with one hand. It finally occurred to Jason that Grace and Tina might have more than a working relationship.

“Jason Fleming,” said Grace. “To what do we owe this unexpected . . . and probably unwanted . . . visit?”

“Could we sit down in your office and talk?” Jason asked.

She nodded slowly. “Tina, do you think there’s any actual liquid left in the coffee pot?”

When they had sat down together in Grace’s office and Jason had forced down a couple of swigs of the most preposterous excuse for coffee he’d ever tasted, he quickly explained what had happened since they’d given him a heads-up about L’harra.

Grace slumped back in her chair. “Let me see if I’ve got this. You two were set up and walked into a trap and now the US government is after you. So your first thought is to come straight to a place that is trying to hide from the US government.”

“I wouldn’t say it was our first thought . . .” Jason began.

“What is it you think we can do that’s worth risking exposure? Because for all I know there are government agents swarming outside this building right now.”

“They can’t track us right now,” said McCauley. “And Fleming has a plan that might work.”

Pleasantly surprised by the support from McCauley, Jason outlined his plan in less than two minutes, then stopped to take a breath.

“That’s your plan?” grunted Tina.

“Basically, you want us to help you expose the Yrrean government,” said Grace. “That’ll mean the end of the refugee rescue. Those people will be screwed.”

Jason shook his head. “We’ll make sure they know it was just a faction of the Yrreans, and that you guys,” he glanced at Tina, “had nothing to do with it. And that you even helped us expose the fraud. You weren’t involved in L’harra’s scheme, were you?”

“Fuck no,” said Tina. “We don’t do politics.”

Jason had no proof that Tina was telling him the truth, but his gut told him he could trust this particular Yrrean, and Grace as well. “Good. I promise I’ll let them know.”

“Like you promised not to tell anyone at Area 69—” Tina began.

“A-69,” Jason said without thinking.

“What the fuck ever. And that promise lasted what? A day? You know, none of this would have happened if your President hadn’t decided to cut us out of his trade deal.”

“And meantime, you would have gone on secretly bringing in thousands of illegal aliens,” said McCauley.

“Not helping,” said Jason softly, trying not to move his lips.

Tina stood defiantly, hands on hips. “Our people don’t want to hide. And for your information, there are only about 100 million of us. We could all fit in the state of Montana and there’d still be room for the damn cattle. And we have so much knowledge. We could—”

“And technology and weapons that could destroy humanity if you want and take the entire—” said McCauley.

Jason waved his hands. “Stop, please! You two can argue later, if McCauley and I even survive.”

The four of them went quiet. Finally, Tina glanced at Grace, who nodded back. “Okay. I’m in,” said the alien. “I must be a fucking idiot, but I’m in. And you’re in luck. The next transport is probably already in Earth orbit, and our next shuttle is due at 6 AM. That’s why Grace and I were trying to catch some sleep. Until we were rudely awakened.”

“Where do you meet them?” asked McCauley.

“The roof of the old Blue Dot Shoes factory,” said Grace.

Jason knew the building, a brick husk of a structure in a desolate urban island that had once been the industrial heart of the city. It was a nasty place for refugees from another planet to be welcomed to Earth.

“That’s almost six hours from now,” McCauley grumbled. “What do we do till then?”

“Well, we go back to sleep,” said Grace, rubbing her eyes and nodding toward Tina. “You two are welcome to stay here if you want. We take in all sorts.”

“Except men,” Jason pointed out.

“Don’t be a pussy,” said Tina, displaying the warmth Jason had come to expect. “You can sleep in the custodian’s closet over there. God knows Miguel sometimes does. And you, Miss Government Agent, can sleep up on the balcony if you want. We don’t have any open cots, but there’s a couple of blankets and some comfy carpeted floor space.”