From stripper to bartender to lawyer, Isabelle thought with a grin. Only Adelaide Porter had seen the dream and known it could come true. Now, with the Watchfire in her granddaughter's hands, it was even closer than before. Mel made sure that Isabelle got the hours she needed to keep the roof over her head and still have plenty of time to study. Mel, Cole, Maggie and Gail were all behind her, all the way, helping her to realize her dream of Harvard Law. Isabelle would graduate this spring and if the scholarship came through, she'd be on her way to Boston in no time flat! She'd still have to work, of course, but that was no hardship.

Oh, wouldn't Adelaide be proud! She had rescued Isabelle from that last, horrible strip-joint where the manager and patrons had pawed the girls and the owner had tried to force them into prostitution. Adelaide had helped her recover her sense of self worth and her dreams as well. Isabelle still couldn't bear to be touched but because of one spirited old woman, she was well on her way to making her dream of becoming a lawyer come true. And not just any lawyer, but one who stood for people who were down on their luck, as she had been. She'd had no one until Adelaide, no family and no friends to help her. Now it was her turn to make a difference.

For Adelaide. Isabelle smiled.

Stepping out into the sunshine, Isabelle made her way across the campus to the bus stop to wait for the bus that would take her home. She felt good, happy about herself. All her dreams were coming true. She barely noticed anyone around her as she wondered what it would be like in Boston. Such an old city compared to Chicago…

A man reached out and caught her gently by the arm. Startled, Isabelle flinched and pulled away, only to be flanked by a second man.

"Isabelle Carter?" The first man was tall with dark eyes and skin the color of polished ebony. He wore a dark turtleneck sweater with a suit and when he pulled the left side of the jacket back, she could see the badge on his belt and the gun under his arm. "I'm Detective Ray Crawford, Chicago PD, Robbery/Homicide. This is my partner, Miseál Hernandez. We'd like to asked you a few questions. Would you please come with us?"

Isabelle stood still, frozen with shock. "Robbery/Homicide? What is this about?" She asked, confused and not a little frightened.

Reluctantly, Detective Crawford said, "There was an incident this morning at the bar where you work. The Watchfire. We need to ask you about some of the customers, some of the new ones, some of the regulars."

"But why can't you ask Mel or Maggie or even Cole…?"

Crawford broke in. "I'm afraid that's no longer possible, Miss Carter. There was an employee meeting this morning and you were the only employee who wasn't there. You're the only one left we can talk to."

Isabelle was in complete denial. "No. No!" She shouted, backing away from them. "I need to get back there, Mel will need me!" Then, "This is a mistake, it has to be!"

Was everything over? Could it be true? Mel and Maggie… Cole and Gail, dead?

"There's no mistake, Miss Carter. You can't go to the Watchfire; it's a crime scene now."

"Then I want to see Vic! Detective Vic Bruno! He's Mel's friend. He'll tell me the truth!"

Crawford said kindly, " Detective Bruno is working the crime scene himself. He insisted. He's the one who asked us to come and get you. He'll be the one asking you the questions."

This couldn't be true. Her friends and co-workers couldn't be gone. They were the only people she had left in the world since Adelaide died. Sobbing brokenly, Isabelle let the two officers lead her to their car and take her away.

End Teaser

The Monday lunch crowd was light at the Watchfire and Maggie was handling it well on her own while Mel and Brenda, the cook, did the kitchen inventory. Maggie was still keen on the idea of the "Roaring Twenties" party and had Adelaide's "recipe" book out to study.

That business with Cole passing out the other night was still a little unnerving but he came 'round alright with no harm done so Maggie tried to shrug it off. The drinks were potent, that was the whole idea, but Cole hadn't seemed like the kind of drinker to booze it up only to get hit all at once. Of course, he wasn't much of a drinker to begin with so maybe it just snuck up on him. Still, it was odd to see him laid out flat like that. It certainly gave her something to think about.

Mel came out from the kitchen just as Cole came downstairs. She led him away from the bar and anyone who could overhear their conversation.

"Any luck with that material the aliens are using to cloak themselves?" Mel asked.

"No, Mel." Cole replied. "I need to have a sample of it so that I can find a way to scan through it. Until I know what it is, I have no way to penetrate it."

"The alien I collected the other night didn't seem to be wearing anything odd. I can ask Vic, if you want me to?" Mel offered.

"That is a good idea, Mel."

Mel smiled and touched Cole's arm. "I'll ask."

Cole said, "You can ask now, Mel."

Mel turned and watched as Vic entered the Watchfire, carrying a what looked like a gift bag. When he spotted Mel with Cole, his smile dimmed somewhat but he came over to them.

"Cole." Vic said rather stiffly. His voice warmed as he spoke to Mel. " Hello."

"Hi, Vic. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you today." Mel smiled winningly. "Cole, why don't you go keep Maggie company at the bar?"

Cole blinked then realized this was Mel's way of letting him know she wanted to speak to Vic privately. There were times when human behavior still caught him off guard.

"Yes, Mel."

As Cole left, Mel turned to Vic and said, "I wanted to ask you a few questions about the man who was killed here the other night."

Vic was startled. "Actually, I wanted to ask you a few questions about that too."

"Oh?" Mel commented cautiously.

"The coroner can't pin down a cause of death. The man's heart simply stopped beating but we can't find any reason why it did. Instantaneous full cardio-pulmonary arrest in a completely healthy adult male. Also, we found no I.D., his fingerprints aren't in any database, and we have no way to identify him. Do you have any idea who he was?"

Mel shook her head. "No. He never spoke except to order his drinks; never socialized with any other patrons or staff. I'm sorry."

Vic sighed. "John Doe #163. What was your question?"

Mel debated with herself for a moment then decided to take the risk. "I noticed that his clothing seemed a bit odd. Did your people find anything unusual about it? About the fabric?"

Vic shook his head. "No. It was all standard discount store clothing. Nothing weird about it at all. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure. Something smelled funny; some kind of chemical, I think. Thanks anyway, Vic." Mel smiled and started toward the bar. Halfway there, the tall detective stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"There's one more thing I'd like to talk to you about."

Mel turned and Vic handed her the gift bag he was holding. "What is this?" she asked.

"Just open it." He said with a smile.

Inside was a large box with a familiar logo. Godiva Chocolates, Mel's favorites.

Vic said, "Happy Anniversary, darling."

Maggie looked up and grinned. "Glutton for punishment, are you?"

Cole was confused. "Punished? Have I done something wrong?"

"You sat down by a bartender who's still experimenting with antique mixed drinks." Maggie laughed. "And you're the perfect guinea pig."

"I am a pet rodent?" Cole asked.

"No, you're a riot." Maggie said, with eyes twinkling. "Here, try this. It's called an Artillery Shell."

Cole downed the drink, letting it sit on his taste buds for a moment. "It's mostly gin with some interesting flavorings."

"Good, bad or indifferent?"

"Good." Cole replied.

"Okay, let's try some more." She gave him a stern look. "You aren't going to do another nose-dive are you? With the bar clearing out, we can take this slow. I don't want to scrape you off the floor again."

"Taking it slow would be wise," said Cole gravely.

"Mel…"

She walked away from him and he followed. Miserable and uncomfortable, he stuck his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Mel shook her head. "I'm sorry for not making this clear to you. What we had was a long time ago and it was good. But it's over, Vic. You can't keep hanging on to the past. You have to let me go."

"It's Cole, isn't it?"

"It doesn't matter who it is," Mel said. "It's just not us anymore. Please understand that."

Vic looked away. "I'm trying. But my heart doesn't seem to be listening."

Mel looked away, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her soft heart ached for Vic but even without Cole in her life, Vic was no longer a part of her future. What should she say?

Behind her, like an invitation to play, came a soft giggle. Then another. Then a whispered, "Hush!" and another giggle, louder this time. Baffled, Mel turned around and saw Cole pop one of her Godiva chocolates in his mouth. A grin surrounded it and out came another muffled laugh. Forgetting Vic completely, Mel walked back to the bar where Maggie stared at Cole in amazement and Cole snagged one more chocolate, which disappeared instantly.

He giggled again.

"What is going on here?" Mel asked with a puzzled smile.

"Looks like he's drunk." Vic said.

"Maggie, how much booze did you give him?"

"It wasn't the liquor, Mel. He's only had one drink." Maggie said. "He was just fine until he started eating your chocolates. Next thing I know, he's as high as a kite."

"The chocolate?!"

Everyone looked up as the bar's main door opened and Nestov strolled in.

All Mel could think was "Not now!"

Nestov exclaimed, "What? What did I do now?"

Cole turned a fuzzy eye to the Dessarian and grinned. "Nestov!"

Nestov's eyes widened and he looked appalled. "Sprulaq! Oh, man, he reeks of sprulaq! Ewwww! Jeeze, lady, don't you know any better than to let him get into that stuff?"

"What are you talking about?" Mel demanded.

"THAT!" Nestov pointed to the box of chocolates.

"But it's just chocolate." Cole listed toward her and she pushed him back upright. His hand went out for another goodie and Mel pushed the box away. Cole pouted.

"It's not the chocolate; it's what's in the chocolate. Sprulaq." Nestov grimaced. "Oh, please, get that out of here; it's poisonous to a man like me." Maggie snatched up the box and carried it into the kitchen.

Mel said, "Tell me what you know about this."

Nestov cocked his head and stared at Vic. "You sure you wanna know? I mean, you having company and all." Mel reached for her back pocket and Nestov threw his hands up in protest. "Hey, whatever you want. Just don't go doing that!"

Vic looked at Mel then Nestov. "Mel…"

Sweet little Mel shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks. "Stay out of this, Vic." Her voice was as hard as steel.

Nestov said to Vic, "When she gets like that, you DON'T want to mess with her."

Confused and somewhat offended, Vic stared at Mel with wide eyes.

"Talk to me." Mel demanded. Cole giggled once again as Maggie returned from the kitchen to lean on the bar, an avid audience.

Nestov held up his hands and backed off. "Whatever you want but you're not gonna like it. Sprulaq is a drug. You get caught smuggling it, you do two moon cycles, easy. Do you know how long a moon cycle is?"

"No," said Mel. "And I really don't care. How do we sober him up?"

"Well…if you leave him be, he'll start to glow and in eight or ten hours he'll be just fine."

"Glow?" Vic repeated startled.

"Never mind." Mel and Nestov chimed. Cole began to slide gracefully off his barstool. Maggie yelped and grabbed the front of his shirt but was nearly pulled over the bar by his weight. Mel and Vic pounced but despite Cole's deceptively trim form, he was no lightweight. The barstool crashed, Nestov jumped back and all three went down, leaving Maggie dangling over the edge of the bar.

"Oops." Cole said. And snickered.

Vic, frustrated and confused by the situation, was all business. "All right, pal. Back on your feet."

He and Mel each took Cole by the arm and started to pull Cole up. Mel said sharply, "Nestov, we could use your help."

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea…" Nestov replied.

"Why not?"

"He's ticklish."

"So?"

So, as they tried to pick Cole up, he began to giggle, then to laugh rather helplessly. He twisted in their grip, slick as an eel. Trying to get some kind of hold on him, they kept finding ticklish places and he squirmed even more. Everything they did made him laugh even harder. Then he began to glow.

They dropped him like a rock.

He glowed softly in colors like weeping rainbows. Still laughing hysterically, the colors faded in and out, dusky rose, soft coral, pale yellow, misty green, shimmering aqua, floating blue, delicate lavender. Over and over again, the colors came and went until the laughter ran down into chuckles and hiccups.

Vic stood frozen and silent while Maggie grinned with delight. Mel looked at Nestov. "What the hell was that?"

Nestov shrugged. "When they laugh, really laugh, that's how they do it. I told you it wasn't a good idea."

"Okay, let's just get him up. Now." Quickly and with little fuss, Mel and Nestov picked Cole up and put him back on the barstool. Mel folded Cole's arms on the bar and pushed his head down on his hands.

"Stay there." She said. With her hands on her hips, she blew her hair out of her face and looked over at Vic. He still looked shocked.

Nestov said, "Now what do you want to do?"

Mel rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully as Cole giggled. She patted her Cirronian love on the shoulder. "I guess we wait until he sobers up. What's a few giggles between friends?" Then she looked up as a bike messenger pushed his way into the bar.

"Delivery for Mr. Daggon?" The boy said uncertainly.

Mel strode over to him and took the envelope. "I'll take it. Thanks." She signed for it and as the boy left, she ripped it open.

"Daggon?" Vic said. "Who the hell is Daggon?"

Mel walked back to the two men, reading carefully. Vic looked at the letter. "What language is that?" he asked, seeing the odd symbols.

"It's Vardian. Cole speaks it." Mel said absently. Nestov came to read over her shoulder. Suddenly she looked up at the Dessarian. "Am I reading this right? I think it says that he's got Isabelle and he wants to trade her life for Cole's. Is that right?"

Nestov took the letter. "That's what it says. Complete with instructions on how to get there. It's a trap."

"Of course it's a trap." Mel looked at the drunken Tracker sitting at her bar. "But the mouse they want isn't the mouse they're going to get."

End Act One

Mel tossed the letter down on the bar and said to Nestov, "How do we sober him up in a hurry?"

Nestov shrugged. "Rua fruit. Orsians eat it at every meal and the Cirronians make a killing."

Mel waved that off while questions jumped into Vic's eyes again. "What's so special about rua fruit?"

"It's sour. It's so sour, it'll make every orifice in your body pucker up and stay that way for months." Nestov explained. "Must be what's wrong with you."

"Hey, now wait a minute…" Vic protested.

Mel pulled out the collector.

"Okay, okay. Just a little humor to lighten things up." Nestov smiled winningly. It had no effect on anyone but Maggie, who grinned. "Tough crowd."

"Will lemons work?" Mel asked, sliding the collector out of sight before Vic started asking questions about it.

Nestov looked doubtful. "They're not as sour as the rua fruit but maybe, as long as you don't dilute the juice or sweeten it. Limes might work too. Lots of them."

The humans shuddered.

Vic reached for his cell phone. "I'll call this in. We can have the Hostage Rescue Team out to any location you name in a matter of minutes. Sobering up Cole isn't the answer. This is a kidnapping; let the police handle it."

Mel looked at Vic for a long moment then said one word. "Nestov."

The Dessarian disappeared and for the next few seconds, Vic looked like he was being mugged by the bar. He yelped and wiggled as unseen hands helped themselves to his service weapon, cell phone, pager and handcuffs. Each item slid down the bar toward Mel except the restraints.

Vic suddenly found himself on the floor with one hand cuffed to the brass foot rail. Nestov reappeared, grinning and searched both of Vic's ankles. He came up with a smaller weapon that had been holstered to Vic's left sock. "Never knew a cop who didn't carry a holdout."

"Thanks." Mel said.

Vic roared, "What the hell is going on here?"

Mel ignored him and gave Nestov a fifty-dollar bill. "Go to the market and get as many lemons and limes as you can. If they don't have enough, buy lemon concentrate in the bottle. Get back here as fast as you can and help Maggie get Cole sobered up. I'm going on ahead. Show Cole the letter. He'll know what to do."

"You can't go tracking alone!" Nestov protested. "Cole would kill me if anything happened to you. At least let me come with you, watch your back."

"No," Me replied firmly. "Cole needs you here. Maggie needs you and Vic can't be trusted to stay out of this. The faster you sober Cole up the faster I'll have the kind of help that counts."

"What do you mean 'I can't be trusted to stay out of this'?" Vic demanded. "Out of what? What the hell is going on here, Mel?"

Mel sighed in frustration. "Oh, Vic, just shut the hell up."

Cole giggled and said roundly, "Shut the hell up."

Vic was not amused.

Mel and Nestov parted ways at the door of the Watchfire, leaving Maggie to juice the lemons and limes they had on hand and Vic to steam in his own juices. The bar was now closed and locked with Maggie, a crack shot, guarding two otherwise very dangerous men. The irony of the situation was not lost on Mel but Nestov was fast learning to speak only when spoken to.

While Nestov's job now was to get Cole sober as quickly as possible, Mel knew she had to focus all her training and instincts on rescuing Isabelle, first, and second, collecting the alien or aliens involved. The trick was in not getting caught in the trap set for Cole. The instructions led to a storefront that sold office supplies only a few blocks from the Watchfire. It was another of Zin's properties from before the mass collection. Cole had scouted it out as a matter of course and Mel knew it had a good-sized storeroom behind the main store. That was probably where Isabelle was being held.

What would Cole do?

Wait a minute. That's what they were counting on: what Cole would do.

She wasn't Cole and if they expected her to act and react they way he would, they were in for a shock. That would give her the element of surprise. Also, while he was becoming somewhat more human in his behaviors, he would always be Cirronian and she, while learning of her Cirronian heritage, would always be human. If they had found a way to "track" him electronically, they'd be looking for his signature, not hers. Another plus.

And they were expecting Cole, knowing his abilities. While they knew of her, they didn't know much about her beyond the basics and certainly nothing about her training. One more advantage.

So who was she? Anyone she wanted to be. Mel grinned. Bobby's mother, she thought; Bobby's frazzled mom.

As she approached the receiving doors of the store, she heard a song in her mind: "I don't like where I'm going, I don't like where I've been. They say there is no exit, but, hell, I'm going in!" Mel nearly laughed out loud. Jimmy Buffet's brazen outlook on life was just the right attitude to have right now. With a well-practiced flick of her hand, she unlocked the door and threw it open.

"Robert Alan Simmons!" she shouted, "this is your mother speaking! You come out here right now or I'll bust your ten-year-old butt so hard you won't sit down till next week!"

There's something to be said for being human and female.

By the time Nestov returned with two dozen lemons, a dozen limes and ten huge bottles of lemon concentrate, Maggie had juiced all the fruit on hand and Cole had broken into song. It wasn't like anything either Maggie or Vic had every heard before but Nestov obviously had. He stopped dead just inside the door, closed his eyes in ecstasy and just listened.

The perfect baritone of Cole's human body fit seamlessly with the otherworldly tones of the Cirronian tune. There were no words, just pure notes sung on an alien scale filtered through human vocal cords and rendered achingly beautiful. Neither completely sad nor joyful, the tune told of a heart torn in two and made whole by it.

Maggie and Vic could only stare, captivated. Nestov shook himself and placed his burdens on the bar. "They said he could sing but I never heard it until now. It's a shame it takes sprulaq to get him to sing. I wish he'd made that his career; I wouldn't be here now."

Maggie sighed. "I hate to make him stop but I've got the first batch of juice ready." A pitcher of juice, strained and pulp-free, stood nearby. A tall glass waited with it.

Nestov said, "Better make it two glasses; you can reload while I get the other one down him."

"Can I help?" Vic asked.

Nestov and Maggie looked at him in surprise.

"On my honor," Vic said. "I won't try to call in, I won't interfere, I won't try to escape. Just…I need... I should be able to do something... I promise: you can trust me."

Nestov looked at Maggie and she nodded. The cuffs came off. He said to Vic, "Alright. You hold him tight while I pour and Maggie does refills. When I say let go, you let go, because once this hits him, your hell won't hold him. Then when he starts to glow, stay back 'til I tell you, then jump him. Got it?"

Confused, but game, Vic nodded.

Nestov asked Maggie, "Got the bucket?"

She handed him a red bucket over the bar. "Ice cold water, just like you said."

"Let's hope it works. Places, folks; we're in for a wild ride."

From time to time, she called out Bobby's name and various threats while tracing her hands along the shelves, hoping to pick up the "path" of an alien. Unfortunately, if they had moved between the stacks, they hadn't touched the shelving.

Halfway down one row, a tall black man stepped into her path. Mel pretended to be startled but noticed immediately the band around his neck. Orsian. So where's his twin? And where's the Vardian who wrote the letter?

"Oh!" she exclaimed, walking toward him. "You surprised me. Do you work here? My son Bobby, the little monster, sneaks into these buildings to play, now that they're empty. I really wish the owner would get some security out here. Have you seen him?" Mel babbled. "Bobby, not the owner. Ten years olds, yea tall, red hair, looks just like my dad. Not that you'd know what my dad looks like…"

By now she was well within arm's reach of the Orsian. Calmly, casually, still chatting aimlessly, she took her hand out of her coat pocket and pressed the collector to his chest. He went quietly, stunned surprise in his eyes.

Mel stepped over him and removed the band from his neck. She knew that Cole could track one Orsian using the band of the collected twin but she didn't know if she could. She also knew the twin was well aware of his/her sibling's absence. The question remained, where was the other one? Right here or three thousand miles away?

It didn't matter. Right now she had a number of problems. She had to watch her own back, locate Isabelle, try to outthink a Vardian, and get the bloody hell out of here, all the while not pinning her hopes on Cole coming to the rescue. If he did, he did and she would welcome him but she couldn't stand around and wait. For Isabelle's sake, she had to act, now.

End Act Two

Vic's arms were locked around Cole's shoulders as Nestov poured another glass of juice down the Cirronian's throat. They'd run out of fresh juice and were well into the bottles of concentrate. The sour juice still hadn't hit him. They were all beginning to wonder if it ever would.

Cole's head lolled to one side and he gave a soft burp. Nestov looked at him warily. "This may be it. Faster, Maggie."

Three more glasses went down before Cole's whole body went rigid. "Hold on!" Nestov warned. Then two more and Cole began to shudder. Nestov pressed Cole's head back against Vic's shoulder and managed two and a half more glasses before the shudders became tremors and the tremors became spasms.

"Turn him loose!" Nestov cried and climbed to the relative safety of the bar. Vic followed. Maggie watched with sparkling eyes.

Cole came off the barstool like a rocket. He tried to walk but his feet got caught in themselves and he went crashing down only to pop right back up. He stared at them owlishly for several seconds then crossed his arms at his waist. He seemed to just stand there but to Vic, it looked somehow strange, like when you look at a wheel at high speeds and it seems to be turning backwards.

Indeed, that was exactly what Cole was doing but only Nestov truly could see it. Cole was spinning like a hyperactive top, going so fast that he appeared to be standing still. And like that top, his speed couldn't be maintained.

In a single blink, Cole was on the floor, flat on his back, singing again. This tune was happier, a bouncy little tune that was funny and friendly. And Cole began to glow a soft white.

Nestov grabbed the bucket. "Oh, no, my man! We are NOT going there!" and dashed the icy water in Cole's face, keeping him from becoming his true self, the energy being of an adult Cirronian. "Get ready to jump," he told Vic.

He had seen this before, on Cirron: the last stage of sobering up from sprulaq was a wild ride in hyperspeed. Confined to a force field cell, the Cirronian he had seen could only ping around inside until exhausted. Nestov and Vic would have to hold Cole down in hopes of keeping his human body in one place. But he didn't tell Vic that little bit of information.

Cole sat up, shivering. "Mel? Where's Mel?"

Nestov sighed and leaned back on the bar. "Put the coffee on, Maggie; he's sober. Now, does he have the mother of all hangovers or is he solid enough to go and help Mel?"

The twin was looking for her as well. Or perhaps Cole. He too was moving up and down the rows of shelves. Mel watched for a moment and realized he was far too predictable. He was taking the stacks row by row, like a good soldier under orders. Mel also noticed that while the shelves weren't strong enough to hold a fully-grown man, they could hold a woman or a child. And they were just wide enough to hold her.

She went several rows down from the twin's current position and quickly cleared off a shelf that was waist high to her stalker. Silently thanking Adelaide for the ballet and gymnastic lessons of her youth, Mel slid into place on the shelf, leaving the supplies on the other side for camouflage. Her arm went through a space in between a box of heavy-duty rubber bands and box jumbo paper clips. Right arm bent back at the elbow, collector in hand, she waited.

He was so quiet she nearly missed him. She'd expected him to come down the row facing her. Instead, he came from behind and she had to twist her wrist to catch him with the collector. The only sound was her hissed "Shit!" and the Orsian's soft collapse to the floor.

Two down. How many more to go?

She rolled off the shelf and thought, if I were a Vardian, where would I set a trap for Cole? Somewhere tight and small so that the Vardian could use the walls to pummel the Tracker mercilessly. Hmmm, the store manager's office.

And how do I keep him from doing the same thing to me? By thinking like a woman, she thought with a grin. Guile and deceit, Adelaide would say; and never tell a man what he doesn't need to know.

The manager's office would be near the sales floor, Mel thought. That was probably where Isabelle was as well. Cole would know better than to take the direct route there as there were likely to be sensors set up along that path. The Vardian, knowing that, would set the sensors elsewhere, trying to outthink Cole. So where were they?

It didn't matter, Mel realized, digging into her purse. She had three plastic squares, one blue, one red, and one green. She used them when choosing fabrics for the quilts she made. The blue one told her when a color fell into the "cool" or "warm" category; the red square told if a color fell into the light, medium or dark category. The green one was used to see if a red fabric was a "true" red.

It would also tell her where the infrared sensors were set up. The green plastic masked out all colors but red and with it, she could easily see the infrared beams of the sensors. Guile and deceit, she thought. Guile and deceit.

Holding up the green square, Mel saw a very odd pattern. The beams crisscrossed every point of entry…except the ones humans would use. This was still a very alien mindset despite the planet and the bodies they now used. Mel could now see how her human thought processes had given her an advantage with the twins. Would it help with the Vardian?

Mel could see that there were no beams on the path to the office. Apparently, the Vardian hoped to engage Cole long before he reached that point, possibly using the twins to slow him down. So why set up sensors when you would know where your prey would be in advance? Mel smiled rather darkly. Right cheese; wrong mouse. And walked down the clear aisle to the office and Isabelle.

Maggie was cheerfully sympathetic, Nestov was just cheerful and Vic was worried. Mel had gone somewhere dangerous, Cole gathered, and they were waiting for him to recover enough to go and help her. Cole wanted to do just that but at the moment was unable to make his human body do what his Cirronian spirit asked of it. It would take more than coffee and two little pills to accomplish that. He couldn't even read the Vardian letter Mel had left behind.

Sounds made his ears hurt, movements made his eyes hurt and the coffee was making his teeth hurt. Maggie had offered to make an ice pack for his head but that was out of the question. Warm... if he could just get warm.

"Mel! Oh, Mel! They said you were dead!" she sobbed.

"Well, I'm not and we're going home now." Mel turned Isabelle slightly to get at her wrists and the knife flew from her hand.

"Why, it's another little human." Came a dark voice behind them.

Mel turned to a rather plain looking man of medium height standing in the doorway. As a human, he looked harmless. As a Vardian, he terrified Mel. What did she think she was doing here, playing at being a Tracker?

No. The Vardian wasn't playing and neither was she. She had come for Isabelle. And she had come for him.

End Act Three

Mel crashed against the office wall, careful to take the hit on one buttock and rolled into a ball as she fell. Cole had taught her that: how to fall so that the least amount of damage was done to her body. It helped that the walls were plasterboard and gave when the Vardian flipped his hand and she went flying. She could see Isabelle, crouched in on herself in the corner but silent and trying to work the bindings loose. The girl had guts, Mel had to give her that.

The Vardian waved his hand again, sending Mel into the opposite corner. Mel rolled with it, this time coming up with the buck knife. She would have thrown it, had she known how. Just as well; her opponent would have only sent it away again and Mel now had the advantage of a hidden weapon. Besides, she would need it to free Isabelle's hands.

"Had enough yet, little human?"

Mel had heard that tone of voice one too many times. The patronizing male, patting her on the head. She'd heard it far too often as a child in school; as a teenager after her mother's death and her father's departure. And again as a college student struggling with pre-law and a boyfriend who couldn't or wouldn't see who she really was. One male after another treating her like a brainless wonder.

Until Cole.

She felt the rage build and used it.

"No." Mel spat. "Have you?" And charged him, quick as a cat, collector in hand.

The force of her rush pushed him out into the storeroom but he was as quick as she was and slapped the collector away, sending it skidding down the center aisle. He caught her up in a bear hug, her elbows squeezed together at the middle of his chest. Her anger grew even greater and suddenly she could see it there in her hands.

Focusing everything she had, all the anger, all the fear, all the frustration, into her hands, she laid them on his chest and pushed with her mind.

This time it was his turn to go crashing across the room. He tumbled head over heels into a stack of metal trashcans and lay there stunned.

Mel looked for the collector and saw it down the aisle about thirty feet away. Isabelle was right behind her, still huddled in the office. She made her decision in a heartbeat. Whatever happened next, Isabelle had to be saved first. Mel wondered how much the girl had already seen but no matter what, she couldn't be here to see the rest. Rescuing Isabelle was why Mel was here. Collecting the Vardian came second.

Mel flipped open the buck knife and went to Isabelle. "Can you get up? Can you walk?"

Isabelle nodded. "I'm alright, Mel. They didn't hurt me."

Mel cut the ropes and helped the girl up. Isabelle picked up her backpack. Mel said, "My truck is just down the alley. Here are my keys. Go to the bar. Cole and Vic are there; they'll take care of you. Don't call the police, don't call anyone. Just wait for me. I'll be right behind you. Okay?"

"But what about him?"

Mel grinned in a way Isabelle had never seen before. "Oh, his ass is mine. Count on it. Tell the boys I'll be home before the street lights come on."

Isabelle grinned back. "Kick ass, boss."

"Hurry. Down the side aisle and out the loading door, turn right."

"You got it."

Then Isabelle did something she hadn't been able to do in a long time. She touched someone. She hugged Mel. And Mel hugged her back, understanding that somehow a wound had been healed inside the quiet little ex-stripper.

"Go."

Mel followed her out into the storeroom. Isabelle slipped away silently and Mel turned to see that the Vardian was missing.

And so was the Collector.

Cole moaned.

"Ain't nothing doing, man." Nestov said. "She said Cole and only Cole and I, for one, am not stupid enough to mess with that woman even if you are. You may think you're in love with her but you are blind, deaf and rock stupid when it comes to her. Now you sit back and relax or you're gonna be making real close friends with the foot rail again."

Vic turned away from the cheerfully stubborn Dessarian and glared at Maggie. She grinned and poured Cole another cup of coffee.

"Why does my head hurt?"

"Sprulaq, my man, sprulaq." Nestov informed him.

Cole looked up at him. "Where did I find sprulaq? It's illegal."

"It's in chocolate. It's one of the ingredients. Don't ask me which one."

"Chocolate? They use it in chocolate? But chocolate is everywhere. Anyone can buy it, even small children. Don't they know how dangerous it is?"

Vic snorted. "Jeez! What planet are you from? It's just chocolate. It's considered by some to be one of the major food groups. And what the hell kind of word is sprulaq anyway?"

Nestov shook his head. "Clueless. The man is totally clueless."

"Where is Mel? She could heal this headache." Cole said.

"That's the problem." Vic said bitterly. "While you were getting drunk on chocolate, Lord knows how, Mel went out to do whatever it is you do for whatever government or agency you work for and now Nestov won't let anyone but you go and help her. You, idiot savant that you are, are so trashed that you CAN'T help her so we just have to sit here and wait and hope she survives."

Cole turned and grabbed Nestov's arm. He whispered, "She went tracking? Alone?"

"She had to. Someone grabbed Isabelle, the little bartender, to set a trap for you. Mel went instead."

"How long ago?" Cole's eyes darkened with worry and urgency.

"Two hours."

"I have to go."

Nestov stepped back as Cole rose from the barstool, took three steps and sat down rather suddenly. Nestov couched beside him and muttered, "The Cirronian is willing but the human has a major hangover. You ain't going nowhere."

"Who? Who has Isabelle?"

"A Vardian."

Cole held his throbbing head in his hands. "Mel."

Mel turned. The Vardian was holding her collector. She'd never asked Cole if it would work on her.

Almost casually, she asked, "Do you have a name or did your mother just call you 'Slimeball'?"

"Humor. Sarcasm, I believe. You humans really are a lower form of life. I am Darta."

"Personally, I like Slimeball better." With that, Mel dived between the stacks and began running. She had to get the collector back and she had to find a way to neutralize Darta. He wasn't about to let her close enough again so that meant bringing him to her.

Unfortunately, the cat and mouse chase she had hoped for didn't materialize. The stacks trembled above her then toppled like dominos. Mel ducked and crawled as they came down around her, forcing her out into the open.

As soon as she showed her face, one of the metal trashcans came whizzing by. She ducked and rolled, diving into the opposite set of shelves and tripping over the body of one of the twins. With a small sound of distaste, she got out of the stack before Darta brought it down as well and started up the aisle toward the office. She'd noticed corkboards and whiteboards stored flat on frames hanging from the ceiling. If she could bring those down on Darta, she might have a chance at stunning him long enough to recover the collector and finishing this for good. The frames were on a simple rope and pulley system. She flicked open the buck knife and made quickly for the tie-downs.

Halfway there, Darta spotted her and another trashcan came her way. She ducked but the second one caught her sharply on the right knee. Pain zinged through her as she turned her head to see the third one on its way in. She put out her hand as if to wave it off and it simply stopped in mid-air.

Mel stared at the trashcan hanging there four feet away from her. Rising slowly, she looked past it at Darta. He too was motionless. She walked toward him, making a detour around the can and realized she had done what she'd thought was impossible.

Hyperspeed.

She stared at the trashcan in amazement. It was literally frozen in time. So was the Vardian. Is this what Cole saw in hyperspeed? It felt wondrous to her, like a world within a world. She couldn't wait to ask him about it.

Limping slightly, she walked up to Darta and took the collector from his hand. It seemed so simple, so strange to press the collector to his chest and watch his life force drain away while he remained as still as a statue.

Then it was gone.

Darta's body collapsed and the trashcan hit the wall behind her. She didn't know how she had opened hyperspeed or how she had closed it but it had saved her life. She really needed to talk to Cole about this.

She needed to go home.

End Act Four

Mel pushed open the door to the Watchfire and smiled. The place was spotless, Maggie's doing she knew, and her friends were waiting.

Cole saw her first and although he was sitll a bit unsteady, he came to her and placed his hand on her chest as she did on him. Their free hands came up to cover the others' hand and with their foreheads leaning together, they found strength and healing in each other and in themselves. No matter where they were or where they went, this was home for both of them. This was the peace they both needed and could only find in each other. This was love.

Vic started toward them but Nestov caught him. "Get a clue." Nestov said.

Vic stared at the couple by the door for a moment then turned to Nestov, eyes dark and unreadable. "I know. But I don't have to like it, and I don't." He turned back to the bar, shrugged into his coat and said, "And as far as I'm concerned, today never happened."

Nestov emptied his pockets onto the bar.

As Vic took back his possessions, Nestov remarked, "You might just make it after all."

Vic stepped past him and left without looking at Mel and Cole.

Maggie had Isabelle at a table, soothing her with coffee and brandy. After a moment, Mel and Cole came over to see how the girl was doing.

"I'm fine. Just a little shaken up. Thanks for coming after me, Mel. First, your grandmother and now you. The Porter women seem determined to keep me around."

Mel grinned. "What else are bosses for?"

"Did you get him?"

"Oh, I got him but good." The sly smile was back and Isabelle laughed.

Someone's cell phone rang and everyone started checking pockets. It turned out to be Isabelle's. She listened for a few minutes then said numbly, "Yes, I understand." She closed the phone and just sat there staring into space.

"Isabelle?" Cole asked gently.

"I got it."

"Got what?" Maggie asked.

"The scholarship. A full scholarship to Harvard Law."

"What?" Mel and Maggie chimed.

Isabelle threw her head back and screamed. "I'm going to Boston!"

Maggie and Mel laughed while Cole and Nestov exchanged blank looks. Maggie said, "This calls for champagne!" And went quickly to get some.

Nestov sat down and asked, "What's Harvard Law?"

As Isabelle explained Cole looked at Mel. Maggie came back with the bubbly and Cole drew Mel away.

"Now you know what it means to me to be a Tracker."

Mel shook her head. "I'm not sure I do."

"Today, you didn't just save a life, you saved a future, Mel. I don't always see it when it happens but I know it does. Every fugitive I track and collect is a life saved somewhere, a future saved. This time it was Isabelle's future and that future will have an impact on other people in other places. It goes on, lives touching lives, without end. That's what being a Tracker means. That's why I became a Tracker, to save those futures."

"What are you saying, Cole?" Mel asked, feeling a sudden tingle run up her spine.

"Today, Mel, you claimed something from your heritage. Today, you became a Tracker."

End