"How do we link up your friend?" Jeremy turns to Mort.

"There are a variety of ways," Solara answers for him. "Does Yoko have Bluetooth?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "I am capable of connecting to any mobile device. Randy-senpai already uploaded his playlist to my system. Wanna listen?!"

Before we can stop her, she sends a blasting wave of migraine-inducing anime music through the room.

"Turn it off!" I yell, covering my ears.

"I'm sorry. Did you say turn it up, Drake-senpai?"

"No, stop! Turn it off!"

When sweet silence returns, Solara proceeds with her wireless takeover.

"Data transfer is at twelve percent."

Mort watches intently while his Star-Caller emits a holographic loading bar. It fills up fairly quickly.

"Sixty-nine percent."

"Nice."

"Real mature, Jeremy," I mutter.

"Eighty-three percent."

In the meantime, Yoko freezes in place. Her eyes flash brighter than before and subsequently grow dimmer in a cyclical pattern as the transfer progresses.

"Ninety-nine percent."

"Here it comes!" Jeremy shakes my arm.

"One-hundred percent."

The color in Yoko's eyes fades, and she slumps forward.

"Solara?" Mort steps in front of her and rests a hand on her shoulder. With no response, he panics and jostled her around a bit. "Are you there?"

Her head snaps back up, and her eyes glow brightly once again. "Hello, Mortecus-senpai!" She grins.

"Oh, no." Jeremy frowns. "She's still a zombie."

"No," Solara chuckles, "I was just messing with you." She is speaking through Yoko's mouth.

Mort smiles. "It is you."

Solara reaches a hand out in front of her. Flipping it from one side to the other, she examines the new "hardware." She wiggles her toes, sensing the carpet fibers with her skin receptors.

"How does it feel?" Mort asks.

"Odd," she answers. "I am heavier, yet... so much lighter. I am free."

"That's cool and all. But what happened to Yoko?" Jeremy asks.

"She is a part of me, just as I am a part of her."

"Huh?"

"Now, we are one," Solara explains. "Her software is still intact, but I disabled some... ahem, unnecessary programs. Although, I am quite impressed by many of her features. With self-defense mode, I could take down a hostile attacker in three seconds."

"Well, then, remind me never to piss you off," Mort tells her, only half jokingly.

Buzz. Beep. Beep.

"You'd better answer that before you piss off the Queen, and we both know that wouldn't be wise," Solara warns.

"You're right," Mort says, lifting up his wrist. "I am here, Your Majesty."

The Star-Caller projects a woman seated upon a silver throne. Long black hair flows down her shoulders. Her skin is dark, smoky almost, and glittery makeup accentuates her intense sapphire eyes. She is wearing a crescent-shaped crown, metal brassiere, and silky skirt.

"Captain Mortecus, I am pleased to see that you are alive and well," she speaks with a strong but amicable tone. Then, sounding slightly amused, she asks, "What are you wearing?"

"Uh, a hoodie and a... manbun," he murmurs.

"I see," she says, leaning back in her chair. Her mirth quickly fades as it is overtaken by concern. "So, you are on Earth. I had a feeling you'd be visiting old stomping grounds. But Captain, I am afraid that I need you here. We must regroup, gather as many civilians as we can, and flee from this galaxy."

"Flee?" Mort asks, raising his eyebrows. "Give up? Since when did the Lunatori run from a fight?"

"Since we lost," the Queen answers. "We lost our home, our dignity, and too many of my people. I am not putting any more lives in danger."

"What about Earth?" Mort presses. "The Repkonians will simply keep stealing one planet after another."

"I know that all too well. They are relentless. Our only option is to run far, far away from those barbarians."

"No," Mort says, gritting his fangs. He is careful not to let anger show through his reverence for the Queen, but I can sense it brewing. "I spent too many years defending Earth by hunting down evil nightwalkers just to see it fall to the Repkonians. Please, Your Majesty, I beg you. We can fight them."

Luneimaya releases a weary sigh. She turns away for a moment, resting her chin in hand. "I am sorry," she announces. "I cannot spare any more soldiers. However, you may stay on Earth if you so desire. I shall send my blessing in place of cavalry. It isn't much, but it is all I have to offer."

Swallowing his disappointment, Mort remains respectful. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Luneimaya gives a nod. She points her holographic eyes in my direction and cocks her head slightly. "Tell me, who are your companions?" She seems genuinely curious but is probably asking the question in order to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"My apologies for the lack of introductions," Mort answers. "I suppose you wouldn't recognize my navigator, though you have met before. She just got a recent upgrade."

"Hello, Your Majesty." Solara stands up and curtsies.

"Looks like you got a full makeover," the Queen remarks. "Stunning."

Solara smiles shyly. She takes a step back and nudges me forward.

"And this," Mort says, gesturing to me, "is my son, Drake."

The Queen raises her head in awe. "Oh, my. I should have known. You look so much alike. It is a pleasure to meet you, young man."

"The pleasure is all mine," I reply, trying to not to sound so unsure.

Jeremy's body vibrates with excitement. Unable to restrain himself, he blurts out: "And I am a humble Homo sapien of planet Earth. Name's Jeremy--friend of Spaceman's terrestrial progeny."

Graciously, the Queen responds to his odd introduction. "Hello, Jeremy, friend of Drake."

"I'd hate to cut this short," Mort quickly interjects, "but I am running out of power. My Queen, many lifetimes have I spent serving you. Now, for the first time since you made me what I am, I ask for just one thing: help me defeat the Repkonians so they do not continue to spread carnage throughout the galaxy."

"You have indeed served me well, loyal Mortecus. But I have already spoken, and I cannot grant your request. What I can grant you is sanctuary. Say the word, and I shall send a rescue vessel at once. Heed my advice, Captain. Gather your friends and leave this planet while you still can."

"Keep your sanctuary," Mort says, stifling the quiver in his voice. "I am not abandoning my people." He is disappointed, angered, and hurt, but he is hiding it well.

Solemnly, Luneimaya accepts his resolve. "Very Well. May the moon's light guide your path."

He swallows hard. "Farewell, Your Majesty."

"Farewell, Mortecus." Luneimaya gazes at him sadly and lowers her eyes to the floor.

The hologram disappears.

And just as suddenly as she leaves, so does our hope for survival.

Mort stares at the wall for a solid minute in quiet contemplation. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and then claps his hands together in an unexpectedly cheery manner. "Well, let's get to work, shall we?"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait. That's it?!" I ask, feeling the terror take hold of me. "We're on our own?!"

"Afraid so," he replies calmly. "Not to worry; where we lack in numbers, we make up for in spirit. We have everything under control."

His words do not sink in. I can only half listen to his ludicrous reassurances, and I refuse to accept any of them. "Damn it!" I curse. "We could have had a free ticket out of here. What about Mom? What about Wilma? Now, their lives are in danger!"

The thought of my loved ones getting torn apart by brutal ogres transforms me into a wild animal. I am backed into a corner, but instead of fearing for myself, I only care about clawing, biting, and fighting to protect them.

"Son, listen to me--"

"You call her back right now!" I shout, pointing at his watch. "Tell her to send a rescue. Take Mom. Take Wilma. You can leave me for fuck's sake, but don't let them die!"

"Son!" Mort grabs my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye. "Compose yourself. No one is going to die." His sternness dissolves into gentle consolation.

My breathing regulates itself. My muscles relax. Still, I feel helpless. "How can you pretend to believe that? The Repkonians are going to slaughter us."

Insulted, he asks, "Pretend? If you had the privilege of growing up with a father, then you would have known me--and you would have known that my word is true. But, here we are now, as mere strangers, and all I can do is ask for your trust."

"I trust you," I reply, "but I don't trust that the Repkonians will show mercy."

"No, they won't... which is why you and I have a duty to protect the people of this world. We are Draculs. It's in our blood."

"Heeey, maaan. Jeremy stretches out his words lazily, seeming unperturbed by the talk of impending doom, "I knew you were a Drak."

"Indeed you are," Mort adds. "There is a power inside of you that has yet to be awakened."

With absolutely zero alternative options, I reply, "Show me."

"Not to worry; I'll make a vampire lord out of you yet." My proud father slaps me on the back and turns towards Randy's wardrobe. "First thing's first; we'll need to slip away from here inconspicuously." He walks up to the closet and rifles through the costumes until he finds a velvet overcoat.

"I don't think that qualifies as inconspicuous," I say.

"No," he replies, lifting it from the hangar, "but it is a little more my taste." After laying his pistols on the bed, he removes the hoodie from his torso and returns it to Jeremy. "Thank you for the loan. Now, I think I shall borrow something from your brother's wardrobe."

As Jeremy ties the hoodie around his waist once more, Mort slides his arms through the sleeves of Randy's coat. He then adjusts his hair, turning the manbun into a ponytail.

It looks like a cheap Halloween costume, but because it's so stereotypically vampiric, that is exactly what he appears to be--a vampire, not an alien. But he isn't satisfied with just that. For a final touch, he takes a black cowboy hat from another costume and places it atop his head. His guns rest in two holsters by his hips. I worry that the extra camouflage may negate his disguise. Then again, in the Southwest, an armed cowboy isn't exactly out of the ordinary.

"How do I look?" he asks, holding the brim of his hat.

Solara glances at him with a sparkle in her eye. "Better than ever, Cowboy."

"It sure is flashy," I tell him, "but it might be enough to throw off the FBI."

"Speaking of which," Solara chimes in, "I can scramble their surveillance feeds all I want, but at this point, it's no use. Andrea is smart. It won't be that hard to track you."

"She's right." Mort nods. "We'd best be on our way. Abraham and Maggy might need a hand. The FBI is on our trail, but the Repkonians may be on theirs."

"We should help them," I agree. "They might be in trouble."

"I wouldn't underestimate those two," he cautions, "though, I wouldn't underestimate the Repkonians either."

"What are we waiting for?" Jeremy asks. "Let's go!"

"Hold on." I block him with my arm.

Disappointed, he asks, "You're not going to tell me to stay here, are you?"

"As a matter of fact..."

"Aw, come on!" His voice cracks a little. "I'm already balls deep in this. They're looking for me too. You don't want that scary FBI lady to drag me off to Area 51, do you?"

"No," I sigh, "BUT."

His eyebrows raise. "Yeah?"

"The Repkonians are a lot scarier than Andrea. This is a dangerous mission, Jeremy, not a field trip."

"I know those lizards are bad news, man. That's why I need to help."

"You can start by lending us a set of wheels."

"Easy," he replies, holding up the keys to his mom's minivan.

My father snatches them. "I'll drive."

Solara raises her hand. "Shotgun!"

"Here, Bro." Jeremy tosses me a black jacket on our way out of the bedroom. "That polo is pretty nasty."

"Thanks." I peel the shirt off and replace it with the jacket.

After sneaking past Jeremy's sleeping father bear once more, we tiptoe through the front door. So far so good. The FBI are nowhere to be seen, but for some reason, that doesn't put me at ease. I expect them to pop out any second like a SWAT team.

Trying not to imagine that scenario, I climb into the back of the minivan with Jeremy. I buckle up immediately, knowing that this could turn into a rough ride. Mort turns the key, and I settle into my seat.

While Jeremy buckles his seatbelt, something catches his attention. "Shit," he says, staring wide-eyed through the window.

I lean forward to look past him, and I soon let out a curse of my own. "Damn it. I thought your brother was supposed to be out all night."

But no. There's Randy walking up the driveway wearing a warlock costume. It doesn't take long for him to notice that there are passengers inside of his mother's vehicle. "Jeremy?" he asks, looking through the window.

"Sup, bro?" Jeremy says, trying to play it cool.

"What the hell are you doing?" Randy questions. He looks in the front passenger seat, and instantly, his face reddens. "What are you doing with Yoko?!"

Sheepishly, Solara raises her robot hand. "Hello, Randy-senpai."

When his shock subsides, Randy slams his hands on Jeremy's window. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Step on it!" I yell.

Mort gives it some gas, and we speed down Orion Street towards our destination. Once we put a couple of miles between us and the town, I begin to fear more what could be waiting up ahead as to what is behind...

Until I see the military Humvee gaining on us.