Kate was ushered back to her exam room and left alone while her parents went to find a doctor and discuss her in private. The heavy door closed slowly, without making a sound. It was very unsatisfying for Kate in her highly agitated state. She spied a cabinet; rows and rows of little metal drawers with silver knobs. She pulled one out, it clicked and then squeaked in its track as it slid forward. Then, as she slammed it shut it made a metallic whooshing noise before slamming back into place. The second time she slammed it shut much harder. Then again. And again. Click, squeak. Whoosh. Slam!

The repetitive action was not helping to ease her anxiety like it normally did. Strong emotions were seen by her people as an evolutionary flaw that they had tried hard to erase, but repressing them had its side effects. What was once a small and easily controllable problem for Alleyon, was magnified ten fold now that she’d taken over Kate’s human teenaged body.  

At home Alleyon was a brilliant scientist who held the fate of an entire race in her hands. Lab assistants had to put up with her insistence that all experiments be repeated sixteen times each, that there always be sixteen different test subjects and that it took Alleyon forever to enter and exit the lab’s security because she had to lock and unlock all the doors repetitively. Sixteen times, no more, no less. She could have cured it; but another side effect would have taken its place. Maybe whatever replaced her compulsive disorder would be something worse, best to leave well enough alone. They all had their flaw to deal with.  

Suppressing their natural emotions did make them more productive apparently, from the looks of things they were heads and shoulders above this similar race they’d found. The subconscious stress acted like a toxin though and needed to be released in some way; compulsions, obsessions, fidgeting . . .

Here on Earth, she was just Kate. The other members of her team had argued that sixteen was too young and it was true, she herself had feared that the experiment wouldn’t work on subjects who were such emotional creatures. In the end, she had let her own obsessions taint the experiment. It had to be sixteen; it always had to be sixteen.

When the little metal drawer closed for the last time and the cabinet stopped rattling from the force, Kate slid down to her knees on the cool tile floor. If this experiment didn’t work, there was no alternative.

The door opened and Sadie appeared, no longer wearing her blue shapeless gown. Her red and white familiar skirt bounced against her legs when she dashed across the room to where Kate was. Concerned, she knelt down and embraced her.

“What’s wrong?”

Kate pulled back and studied her friend. They had worked together for a long time. At home Vesta taught and researched history and once Earth had been discovered she dedicated her life to learning about the planet and its inhabitants. Side by side they had pieced together the logistics for “transferring” their population. Right now, in Sadie’s body, she didn’t remember any of that. She could only access Sadie’s memories. That’s why she had been drawn to Sadie’s house, to her clothes and even to Kate, because the girls had been friends. Kate could spend all day trying to figure out what had caused the disorientation, but there was no time.  She pressed her finger tips firmly to Sadie’s temples.

Before Sadie could protest, her mind flooded with information.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***  

Chief Tanner patted down each of his pockets, frustrated that he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He flipped through his wallet one last time before turning to his deputy for help.

“Hey, I was gonna try to get an ETA on the goon squad, but I can’t find that idiot Brigg’s business card, can you find me the local field office number? I’ll just call over there.”

“Will do Chief.”

Several feet away Sellers was towering over an intimidated looking intern, rapid firing questions without waiting for answers. The intern had slowly backed himself up against the wall and was clearly inexperienced in dealing with frightened parents. Tanner rolled his eyes and went to break it up before it ended in an assault charge.

“Sellers, you come on with me now, let that doc get back to work.” Tanner put a hand on his officer’s shoulder and practically drug him away.

“No one can tell me where Kate’s been all this time, what’s happened to her. Kate’s not talking about it, and these test results are screwy. People around here don’t know a goddamn thing, not a goddamn thing, Chief!”

“Yea I know; it’s screwy all right. Where’s your wife?”

“I sent her home to be with our son, she was getting all upset anyway, needed a break.”

“Good, that’s good. Look, when you were in the field, you said you found something out there?”

“Yea in the road, near where we picked up Cole. Burn marks in the road, still smoking too. Strange pattern, like nothing I’ve seen before. You want me to get someone out there?”

The Chief shook his head, “No, no, just . . . let’s just keep this between you and me for now. The FBI is rolling into town soon and, well, you know how it is.”

“I got you Chief,” Sellers put his hands in his pockets and looked down the hallway in the direction of his daughter’s room. Worry shaded his face. “It’s the strangest thing. She’s back but, it’s doesn’t feel like she’s back. I know that doesn’t make sense. There’s just something, not right, about her. About all of ‘em really.” Sellers sounded like he was far away and deep in thought. Yes, Tanner knew exactly what he meant.

“Here’s that number you wanted Chief,” said the Deputy, joining them. The Deputy and Sellers exchanged what little information they had with each other, catching up, while the Chief excused himself to make his call.

The Chief replayed the scene in his head for the hundredth time; it still felt like a dream to him. He thought about the cold sterile exam room, the seizing pain in his wrist, the shameful tears he allowed himself to shed. Cole had come to him, had helped him, healed him. But that only happened in fairytales or movie theaters, didn’t it? Cole’s bright but expressionless eyes wouldn’t get out of his head, and the words he said with such eerie calm, “we’re not here to hurt you.”

He punched the number to the FBI field office into his cell and waited. It was answered by an efficient operator asking where to direct the call.

“This is Police Chief Tanner, Springfield, MO; I need to reach Special Agent Randall Briggs, please.”  In the short silence that followed his request, Tanner added, “He’s probably on his way out here already; I’ll just take his cell number if you will.”

“I’m sorry; we don’t have a Special Agent Briggs here.”

Tanner heard silence, then typing on the other line as his brain scrambled to process the information he was just given. “I was sure he was from your office. I had his card but its back at the station. It’s Briggs – with two g’s.”

“There is no Special Agent Randall Briggs on record at all.”

“That’s not possible. He spent a month here, had a whole damn team of agents with FBI badges.” Tanner felt his blood pressure rise and the room start to spin a bit. This was not happening, couldn’t be happening. There was no way this guy wasn’t FBI, Tanner had checked the credentials himself.

“Let me get a Supervisory Senior Ag . . .”

Tanner hung up before she could finish.