Ten minutes later, four intrepid explorers stood motionless in the escape ship’s flight deck airlock. Having completed docking with the refueling station, all that remained for them to do was physically begin the process. Unfortunately, that process entailed one or all of them transferring over to another very old station with a very incompatible life support system.

  “And there’s absolutely nothing we can do to adjust the air mixture?” Justine asked as she stared blankly at the large oval hatchway that stood between them and the fuel they so desperately needed. “Nothing at all?”

  “What are you asking me for?” Foster seethed out the question while shaking his satchel menacingly. “Why not ask our little secret keeper?”

  “Kettle,” the AI said quickly in response. “Thy color is the same as mine.”

  “Neither one of you idiots have a leg to stand on in the fibbing department.” Justine admonished, only slightly disappointed with their juvenile reactions to either being the liar and the one being lied to. Still, such petty responses were usually the norm when you find out your best friend had been dishonest. Damn you, Becky! “Hoover, is there a way to adjust the atmosphere?”

  “No,” Hoover responded without the snark. Apparently, the tone of Foster’s angry voice had finally made him realize that his little joke had gone a little too far. “The system can be tweaked slightly. But not enough to make it compatible with human physiology.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” Foster asked while doing his best not to look at the satchel. “You’re absolutely sure they’re no hidden sensors or disguised knobs?”

  “Yes.” Hoover said sheepishly. “And no, there’s nothing to be done.”

  “Will the two of you just kiss and make up already?” Joseph said, rolling his eyes at their childish behavior. “This trip home is already turning out to be much longer than I anticipated. And to be honest, I don’t think I can take 10 billion more miles of you guys fighting.”

  “More like 10 trillion.” Foster corrected the alien deputy. “Maybe even 15 trillion.”

  “And he’s the alien of the group.” Seeing an opening to apologize without saying the words, Hoover decided to bolster his friends' digs with some of his own. “Has to make you wonder if he actually knows what he’s doing.”

  “Wonder indeed.”

  “Strike that,” Joseph rolled his eyes again at the quick turnaround of their brief falling out. Honestly, he didn’t quite know what was worse at that exact moment. Those two fighting, or those two pain in the asses back to being the best of friends. “On second thought, please don’t make up.”

  Hearing the Elmira deputy complaining made both Foster and Hoover break out into a soft melody of laughter. This détente was quickly followed by what could barely be heard as a pitiful, subdued version of ‘I’m sorry’ between the two of them. And just like that, everything was fine.

  “So,” Justine said as she waited for Joseph to make some adjustments to the airlock’s control panel. When he finished tinkering, she asked. “Now we get to test out these biological spacesuits of ours?”

  “Yes.” Foster finally looked down at the satchel with something other than focused anger before looking back up at Justine. “From what the sensors tell us. The air is a mixture of helium, methane and argon. Which isn’t too bad for our first time. Plus, the temperature over there is near 50 degrees Fahrenheit. So, no one will be freezing to death.”

  “Is that even a possibility?” Joseph asked cautiously. “After all, you sold these biological spacesuits as one size fits all.”

  “Anything’s possible, Joseph.” Foster said after thinking about the question for a second. “But from what the machine showed me during the augmentation process. My best guess would be ‘no’.”

  “That’s comforting,” Justine said with only a slight amount of apprehension in her voice. “Well, best guess or not, now is the time to find out.”

  With that, she signaled to Joseph for him to seal the inner air lock door. What followed was a rather tense couple of minutes where both Foster and Justine held their puking hands at the ready. But much to their surprise, nothing happened. A few seconds later, the control panel signaled they were ready to disembark.

  “What,” Foster said, “No throwing up?”

  “Not this time,” Joseph knowingly chuckled. “The station’s on the same axis as the ship right now. That means we didn’t have to re-orientate the gravity.”

  “Thank god.” Justine said. “I don’t think I could handle puking in my mouth while gasping for air.”

  “There’s a joke somewhere in that statement.” Hoover said in a juvenile attempt at keeping the mood light. “But I’ll refrain given the circumstances.”

  “Thanks,” Foster leaned forward to examine the panel. There, in the middle of the display, was the word OPEN. “And while I’m in the middle of thanking people, Joseph, thanks for translating all the ship displays to English.”

  “Yeah,” Justine added sincerely, “I don’t know what we would have done if we had to run a translation program the whole time.”

  “We would have survived.” Joseph said a lot too nonchalantly. “Plus, Hoover did most of the work. And we got lucky with the ship’s original species.”

  “How so?” Foster asked.

  “Well, the Seerchin language is rather simplistic. At least when compared to my native Solon dialect.”

  “You’re only saying that because you happened to know their language.”

  “True,” Joseph admitted with a mischievous grin. “Book 5, always study your languages on the Forge.”

  “Good advice,” Justine remarked. “Still, it would have been a pain. So, thanks.”

  “Stop whining, Agent Rushing.” Obviously upset about not being thanked for his part, Hoover barked out. “Besides, you really didn’t need to translate anything. Not after Foster did his little upgrade to your mind. And don’t say anything about you being your own universal translator!”

  “I won’t. Sheesh.” For a second, the FBI agent looked ready to let the moment pass by, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that what you did to us also works for the written language?”

  “Of course it does!” The AI screamed in a maniacal voice. “Why only go halfway down the brainwashing path when the entire trip is so easy to take.”

  Instantly, Justine became as silent as a church mouse. Both from the further revelation that more brain manipulation had occurred and the spectacularly awesome news that she was in fact, an honest to God universal translator.

  “Stop calling what I did brainwashing,” Foster said while unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile. He hated lying to Justine. But he was overjoyed that she seemed to be enjoying the helpful tweaks to her brain. “Besides, the process is actually more related to osmosis.”

  “Yeah,” Joseph said sarcastically. “Only I don’t remember falling asleep last night with my head on top of the Dummies Guide to Every Alien Language in the Universe.”

  “There's a math problem,” she said with a snort. Imagining a plain yellow book with a line drawing of a bunch of different aliens on the cover, even Justine couldn’t help but crack a smile. “How long of a nap would you have to take for all those languages to seep in?”

  “Longer than you probably have left to live, Agent Rushing.”

  “Anyway,” Foster said in an effort to diffuse the rapidly deescalating situation. “Let’s move past that highly successful experiment and on to another one. Namely, how will our bodies react to breathing some alien air.”

  Joseph took that as his cue and pressed the large OPEN symbol on the touch screen. At first, nothing happened within the airlock’s cramped confines. Then, a small hissing sound began to emanate from beneath the outer door. Slow at first, the hissing soon grew to a whoosh of stagnant air that hit the trio like an automatic car wash dryer.

  “Whoa!” Foster said. “That’s a hell of an imbalance in pressure.”

  “It’s the argon.” Joseph looked back down at the airlock’s control panel and saw the current atmospheric mix displayed in bold green letters. “Luckily, there’s only 4 percent of the stuff here. Anything past 10 and we could practically swim in the stuff.”

  “That’s comforting.” Justine sarcastically remarked even though the very thought of such an occurrence made her giddy. “Although, swimming in air doesn’t sound all that bad.”

  “To you it wouldn’t.” Hoover spat out. “But let’s see how excited you are in a minute.”

  Unsure of the AI’s meaning, the three of them waited. Soon, they began to feel an annoying tickle on the back of their throats. This uncomfortable sensation was quickly followed by a more prevalent and more painful burning in their chests. A sensation that soon became almost unbearable to take.

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  “Foster,” Justine clamped down on her throat reflexively. “This doesn’t feel normal.”

  “Yeah,” Joseph said with his hands on his hips. “I think something’s wrong.”

  “Why would you think something’s wrong?” Hoover asked them in a too innocent voice. “I mean. Your bodies are only rapidly adjusting at the cellular level to a foreign substance. That sounds completely normal. My advice. Stop fighting the process.”

  “Fighting the process?” Justine asked in short bursts of forced breath. “What... are you... talking... about?”

  “I’m talking about facing life’s little obstacles with a little scientific faith,” Hoover answered in a flat, uncaring voice. “Just ask your boyfriend over there.”

  Still fighting to breathe through the ever-growing fire in her lungs, Justine turned toward where Foster was standing. Only he wasn’t trying not to breathe. No, the Madman of Wilson was doing the exact opposite. He was taking large gulps of alien air into his lungs.

  “What---are---you---doing?” She gagged out.

  Foster looked back at her with tears in his eyes. Then, without saying anything, or unable to say anything, she watched her ‘boyfriend’ slowly begin to normalize his breathing. Until, after another few more seconds, his labored breathing was replaced by a much too enthusiastic smile.

  “I’m working the process, Justine.” Wiping his teary eyes, he repositioned his satchel. Only this time he wasn’t as rough as before. “And I don’t know if I would call it faith, Hoover. But I do trust the math.”

  Shocked at seeing his ambivalent attitude toward the maelstrom of psychological and physical strains hitting all at once, she turned to Joseph for some support. Unfortunately, there was no support to be found. Because surprise, surprise, he was also beginning to breathe normally.

  “What?” she gasped again as she turned back to Foster’s stupid grin. “How?”

  “I guess your dad never pushed you into the deep end of the pool.” His smile softened a bit at her out of place hesitation. “The biological spacesuit works better when you jump in, Justine. Dipping a toe will only make the process take longer.”

  “And more painful,” Joseph said hoarsely. “And that’s only a slight change to the lungs.”

  Pushing their musings to the back of her mind, she concentrated on ignoring the pain and simply breathing normally. For a moment, the searing agony that permeated her throat and lungs rapidly intensified. But just as quickly, the agony began to slowly fade away. Until, like a tooth being numbed just before extraction, the burning sensation simply faded away.

  “That’s better.” She exhaled, wishing she had a bottle of water to gulp down. “Still, you could have told me to do that from the very beginning.”

  “He didn’t think he had to tell you anything about jumping in headfirst into insane situations.” Hoover snapped. “Not with your nick name.”

  “Point taken,” she reluctantly admitted. “And for the record, my dad never had to push me into doing anything you’d consider dangerous.”

  “Truer words were never spoken.” Joseph agreed.

  “Amen to that.”

  Foster, still fascinated by the fact that their bodies had adapted to breathing air without any oxygen, walked past their quippy banter and into a decent sized antechamber. Once inside the space, he swiveled his head from side to side to survey his new surroundings. What he found was both highly disappointing and completely expected.

  “Why is everything we discover in outer space so bland?” He reached out and brushed away only a small amount of dust from the walls. “What I wouldn’t give for that nice prisoner containment facility right now.”

  The mere mention of the words ‘prisoner containment facility’ sent shivers shooting down Joseph's spine and made Justine involuntarily reach for her Slinger. “Please don’t mention that place again.” He said plainly. “I still have nightmares about those creatures trying to kill me.”

  “Really?” Hoover suddenly asked with way too much enthusiasm. “That’s awesome!”

  “How is that awesome?” Justine asked, also still a little traumatized by their previous experiences with those creatures.

  “How?” Hoover sounded surprised. “I would think you of all people would appreciate the irony of aliens having nightmares about being murdered by other aliens.”

  “Hey,” surprised she didn’t make the connection sooner, Justine laughed a little too loudly for the alien’s liking. “You’re right, Hoover. That is awesome.”

  “That is not awesome!” Annoyed, Joseph strode into the antechamber and past a still cautious Foster. “And those things weren’t aliens, Hoover. They were just a cheap facsimile of a real live alien species.”

  “Sorry,” the AI offered with very little sincerity. “But if you’re not from Earth, you’re an alien.”

  “Don’t mind him, Joseph.” Foster turned back to make sure Justine had completely recovered. After a nod from her, he turned back to the testy deputy and tried his best to ease the accumulating tension in the room. “You know he’s just a little asshole. Now, as for this place, where do we stick the credit card?”

  “Funny,” Joseph said in a more relaxed tone. “But that’s not how these things work. Well, to be honest, I’m not exactly sure how this thing works given its age. But...”

  Without a word of explanation, he searched along the wall until his hand brushed against a raised piece of metal. When it did, Joseph pressed on the button until it would not depress any further. Upon doing this, the entire room started to glow in a soft white light. And not from bulbs on the walls or on the ceiling because that type of illumination would have been... too Earth-like for a refueling station in the middle of space.

  What would have been appropriate? How about the actual walls starting to glow?

  “I take back my original statement.” Justine joined the two of them and cautiously placed her hand on the glowing wall. “This is actually awesome.”

  “This is just a scanning device.” Joseph tried to say in a reassuring voice. Then, the deputy brought out the device he’d been working on in the engine room for the past week. “It checks to see what species the visitors are and if they have clearance to enter the facility.”

  “Do we have clearance?”

  “Considering this is the first time humans have been on this side of the universe. I’m going say we don’t.”

  Ever the tactical FBI agent, Justine reached for her Slinger again. “And what happens if you don’t have clearance?”

  “Hopefully,” Joseph pressed a button on the makeshift device in his hand. Instantly, the small box began to softly hum. “The station will just deny us access to enter. And not do anything as provocative as ejecting us into space.”

  “I thought we already agreed that hope was not a plan.”

  “We did.” Joseph said with a serious grin. “That’s why I brought this skeleton key. One that should fool the scanner into thinking were Seerchin.”

  “Will that actually work?” Justine leaned forward and got a better look at the device. “I mean. I’m guessing we don’t look like those alien creatures.”

  “Not unless you can grow an extra set of arms, three more eyes and a shit load of long black fur.” The deputy furrowed his brow while sliding back a small, recessed panel on the box. After a second of adjusting a tiny set of dials, the device’s humming noise faded away to almost nothing. Then, a couple more tweaks and he slid the panel shut. “That should do it.”

  What followed was a few drawn out moments of silence as Justine prepared for a fight while the other two merely watched on in fascination as the wall pulsated rhythmically. Finally, after one last explosion of white light, the walls dimmed back to their original gray color. Then, directly opposite the ship’s airlock, the wall started to draw out lines that resembled a human or Seerchin sized door. These lines pulsated with a soft, blue glow before quickly going out.

  “Is that it?”

  “Yes,” Joseph said as he took a couple of steps in the direction of the faded doorway. As he got closer, the door hissed and popped before retracting about three inches into the next space. Once settled, the piece of metal slid apart from the exact middle until a four foot by seven-foot entrance was left in its wake.

  “It just took a second for the system to recognize us.”

  Excited to see the next amazing sight, Justine put away her weapon and rushed forward into the space beyond the scanning room. Unfortunately, the wonders she hoped to find were a bit more utilitarian and subdued.

  “Why,” she asked without a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Why what?” Joseph asked as he joined her in what could only be described as a oversized, understaffed cosmic waiting room.

  “Why is everything so bland?”

  “Bland?” Foster found his previous question repeated back to him both interesting and completely superfluous. True, the straight line design of the grey walls that dominated the much larger space were admittedly dull. But wasn’t that blandness to be expected. “What else would it be? Isn’t this just a highly engineered gas station?”

  “Yes,” Joseph said in complete agreement with the Madman of Wilson. He pointed to a couple of plain looking benches affixed to a spot in the floor right in front of a raised counter. On either side of the plain looking counter was a dormant, oblong kiosk. And judging from the lack of power and the thick layer of dust coating them, neither had seen any use for centuries.

  “Plus,” He continued. “These places are designed to service the needs of multiple species. So, the less things stand out the better for the aliens involved. Think of this space as a DMV crossed with a convenience store.”

  He threw up a pair of exaggerated air quotes to add emphasis to his usage of the word aliens. Foster found the gesture completely hilarious and laughed appropriately. On the other hand, Justine found his dismissiveness hurtful on a personal level. “That’s not how they did things on...”

  “NO,” Joseph barked. “How many times do I have to say it? Don’t bring up that show again.”

  “Joseph,” Justine responded with words both calm and deadly at the same time. “And like I said. I’ll bring up whatever I want, whenever I want.”

  She waited for him to respond, but the deputy offered little more than wide eyes and a sudden aversion to direct eye contact. Satisfied with the delivery of her message, Justine went on. “Like I was saying, on Star Trek, the Enterprise was designed with ornate rooms for welcoming guests on board. It was a matter of pride.”

  “Well, Agent Rushing.” He said only slightly rolling his eyes in frustration. “Here in the real confines of space, most species don’t welcome visitors onto their ships. In fact, a great many space faring people prefer not to interact with other alien races in such a personal manner.”

  “Really?” She asked, taken aback by the unexpected isolationism.

  “Really.”

  “Oh,” Justine’s world began to spin a little when she heard the faintest taps of footsteps somewhere in the distance. Still reeling from the sudden news that there wasn’t a version of the Federation in real life, it took the normally on edge FBI agent a second or two longer to react to the new situation.

  But when she did.

  “Foster!” The hardened FBI agent shouted as she set her trusty Slinger to level 10. Never one to forget a lesson learned, she had promised herself not to come to a party unprepared after the events on the space station. “Joseph! Behind me!”

  “Stop!” Foster screamed out to Justine before she had a chance to even think about firing her weapon.

  “Why?” Justine didn’t fire but still held her weapon at the ready.

  “Because this air has a 3 percent argon and 5 percent methane mix. At those levels, there’s a slight chance firing that weapon could cause an explosion. Plus, we don’t know what’s heading this way. It could be the caretaker of this place.”

  Justine looked at Joseph for his opinion. He just nodded in agreement.

  “So what?” Justine’s hand slightly wavered between listening to Foster and letting her better nature take command of her primed Slinger. After all, a slight chance of an explosion was better than being killed by some unknown monster. “We just wait for the creepy footsteps to reach us.”

  “Yes, Justine. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  So, against her better judgment, the four of them silently waited as the strange sounds grew louder and louder with every second that passed. Then, as the oncoming footsteps couldn’t possibly get any louder, a strange-looking metallic shape lumbered out onto the main floor with all the grace of a newborn baby. After a few labored steps, the visitor stopped and stared expectedly at them.

  “What is that?” Foster asked apprehensively with one hand clutched to his satchel’s protective top flap. “And why does it have only three legs?”

  “Umm,” Joseph tried to formulate a cohesive response to the simple question, but he was also at a loss for words for what they were seeing. “I don’t know what that is exactly.”

  “What? Are you blind?” Justine practically exploded with excitement as she took a couple steps toward their new guest. “That’s a robot dog!”