Sophie, Hunter, and Ian were standing in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. But so was Dr. Merv Spector, a clinical psychologist, and several abandoned cars. Also, all the ghosts milling about screaming at everything.

“Put the spooky gun down, Dr. Specter,” Sophie said. “Nobody else needs to be turned into a ghost.”

“Call me,” Dr. Spector lurched around to face Sophie, “Doctor Spector.”

“Isn't that what I said?”

“You spelled it wrong.”

“Is it still homicide if the victim turns directly into a ghost?” Hunter accidentally said aloud.

“Well, I mean, they're still dead, right?” Sophie replied.

“I imagine it would be prosecuted like one,” Ian added.

“Would there be extra charges for causing a public haunting?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t think the justice system is prepared for this,” Sophie said in a mock lament, shaking her head.

“Hey, what did I miss?” Cheryl called running toward them. “I just got your message. Who’s this asshole?” she said into her coffee.

“Dr. Spector,” said Sophie.

“Doctor Specter,” he shouted.

“That's what I said.”

“Doctor Specter?” Cheryl looked askance.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Doctor Specter called to Cheryl.

“What's his thing?”

“He's got a gun that turns people into ghosts,” Sophie reported.

“So he has a gun?” Cheryl looked at Sophie, nonplussed. “Hunter can do maniac-with-a-gun in his pajamas. He does all the time. I was having a really nice chat. Her name was Maggie.”

“No, like no-shit ghosts,” Hunter said pointing to the withered, translucent wraiths that roamed the strip mall parking lot that.

“Dammit,” Cheryl sighed. “Brand new Starbucks and it's already haunted.”

Cheryl trotted to one of the ghosts, waving her hands in its face. “Are they dangerous?”

Cheryl tapped the end of its nose and passed through. It emitted a piercing howl.

“No, but that will get annoying.”

Several auto collisions were heard coming from nearby intersections. A howling, yelping buzz echoed down the corridors of the city street. The panicked ostinato was accompanied by the percussion of energy tearing through the air in bursts and cymbal crash explosions. Streams of citizens fled past the intersection down the sidewalk, breaking around those who were plodding along in summer footwear. As the crowd swelled, people began running atop the cars. Several energy bolts flew in and struck as many fleeing citizenry. A force of armored lizard people, armed with energy rifles and polearms, plowed into the crowd.

“Now, what’s this Conan shit?” Cheryl groaned.

“David Icke was fucking right,” Hunter gasped.

“Yeah, he was. Reverse Egon,” she called to Spector. “Be useful. Shoot some of those guys.

Spector turned around in a daze and spotted the lizards. His trance shattered and he ran.

“Great time to forget you have a ghost gun, Specter,” Cheryl yelled as he ran past.

The company of lizard people turned down their street and marched toward them. They turned to run, but the opposite intersection began to fill with reptilians as well. A company from this wave peeled off and began pinching them against the first. Sophie fired off a volley of arrows knocking down some in front. The other soldiers marched over them. Hunter dove forward and pierced the abdomen of a lizard as it raised its halberd. He sliced his sword free through its loins and it fell, hissing. On the upstroke he jabbed his sword over his shoulder and his blade went into the cranium of a lizard approaching behind him and slashed another’s throat on the downbeat.

“That was very fluid,” Cheryl said to Sophie.

“Graceful even,” Sophie replied.

“You look competent,” Cheryl called to Hunter. “Have you been taking lessons?”

“Yes,” he replied, gripping a cigarette in his teeth and hacking at more aliens.

“Is that why you went milk carton over the weekend?” Sophie asked, letting streaming arrows of light fly three at a time, striking three lizards between the eyes and passing through to take the ones behind them. Hunter looked at Sophie impressed. She turned up her cuff revealing a Girl Scouts archery badge stitched to the inside.

“By the way, I don't blame you,” Cheryl added and stabbed a Draconian in the throat with her taser, sending him twitching to the ground. “I spent the weekend envying you.”

“It’s great story to tell while being surrounded by an angry reptile zoo.” Hunter skewered a few more. He deflected an energy pulse and it returned to its owner, scorching him. A fire caught in its hollowed out neck.

“I wish I was in Tijuana,” Sophie sang.

“Eating barbequed iguana,” Cheryl joined.

“I’d take requests on the telephone,” Hunter droned, backing away from the advancing front of the lizard army.

“I’m on a wavelength far away,” Ian mumbled, shattering the mandibles of two attacking troops.

“Who says we can’t work as a team?” Sophie said.

“I will take requests though,” Hunter stammered. “I hope you learned something at the leadership retreat that would come in handy.”

“Nothing useful,” Ian replied.

“I wonder if this will work?” Sophie said, turning the handle of the mirror between her hands, the reflective surface spinning back and forth. “Duck.”

They all ducked and shards of light sprayed from the mirror, shredding the exposed scales and eyes of the soldiers. They were beaten aside by troops stomping into replace them. As the fresh wave trained their weapons on the gang, they were staggered by a sudden gust of wind that blew the litter and debris from the street in little eddies. With a dull pop, the lizards found themselves illuminated by powerful spotlights.

After the wind died down, Sophie lifted her head and saw Cheryl looking straight up, mesmerized and slack-jawed. In her line of vision was the flat underside of a large vehicle hovering above them. Cheryl stood with her mouth agape, hands hanging limply by her sides.

“Soph. Fire in the Sky, Soph,” Cheryl wheezed. “This is some Whitney Schreiber shit, Soph.”

“I’m not sure they’re aliens,” she squinted at some lettering. “All the safety restrictions are in English.”

Cheryl grabbed Sophie by the shoulders, wild-eyed. “Of course they speak our language. They’ve been monitoring Earth’s radiosphere for more than a century. It’s all been true. It’s all been true.”

The sound of steam escaping hissed from overhead and a seam formed in the smooth underside of the ship. A hatch opened, exposing the interior’s multicolored mood lighting.

“Is that a blacklight poster?” Sophie asked.

“Of Mingus,” Ian marveled.

A sleek, black leather-clad version of a plague doctor appeared accompanied by a motocross pro in a helmet that looked like an owl's head, in black to match. They stepped to the edge of the hatch and jumped down. The plague doctor landed by Cheryl and he handed her his empty can of beer. Cheryl’s enchantment was broken.

“You got stones, Dark Carnival of Venice,” Cheryl dropped the can.

The space ninjas walked out from under the ship and stood in front of the lizardmen.

“I’d like to start the violence by saying,” the plague doctor said through a modulated voice. He unlatched the mask of his helmet and smoke billowed out. “The people who are about to cut you in little pieces,” he coughed, “Are high as balls. We underestimated this local shit.”

He flicked the still red joint and struck a lizardman between the eyes.

“The roach of that is gonna be good,” the owl woman said, voice also modulated.

The lizard soldiers opened fire on them. They each ignited crackling blades on both their wrists and entered the enclosing frey. The lizardmen on the other side began approaching Cheryl, Sophie, Hunter, and Ian. They made efforts to appear ready for a fight.

“You want some of what they’re getting?” Cheryl’s voice cracked.

“Step aside, ridiculous monkey,” the lead lizard hissed. “Vendettas take precedent.”

Cheryl watched the lizards pass in silence.

“Good lord, I think Ellers is speechless,” Ian said.

“He just called you a ‘ridiculous monkey’, Cher,” Sophie chuckled and poked her on in the arm.

Cheryl spun around and looked at everyone, on the verge of tears, “I think I almost died.”

“I think we’re all there,” Ian gave an understanding nod.

“Miss Ellers?” a girl’s voice came from overhead.

Cheryl looked up and a young woman in something that might have been a lab coat and headgear spiked with apparatus that looked like it could be brought down over her eyes.

“Could you clear the area under the vessel, please? I’m setting it down.”

Cheryl took a deep breath, nodded and waved everybody back.

As the ship was settling, the black-clad warriors were strolling back toward the others, leaving piles of bleeding lizard soldiers. The plague doctor stepped on the ship’s wing as it descended and rode it down. He walked toward Cheryl, dropped his head and looked at the can on the ground, then back to Cheryl.

“You don’t recycle in 2017?” his modulated voice said.

“Who the fuck are you?” Cheryl barked, charging toward him.

“Wolfram Jones.”

The ship settled and hissed. A seam formed on the side and another hatch opened. The girl emerged followed by Carl, filling the hatchway.

“Carl?” Cheryl asked, “How did you end up with S&M Jetsons and Mengele Barbie who looks like she’s about to cure cancer or perform a human vivisection? That’s a nice outfit, though. Fascist chic,” Cheryl looked the girl up and down.

The girl looked at what she was wearing and gasped. She brought up a series of holographic files on her tablet and rapidly scanned them. She stopped holding her breath and made a pained smile, “So glad you like it.”

“You’ll let me play with that, right?” Cheryl pointed to the tablet.

“Probably not a good idea, Miss Ellers,” she caught herself. “Sorry, Miss Alexander,”

Holly leaned into Cheryl and whispered, “Code names in the field.”

“Did you tell these weirdos who we were?” she said to Carl.

“Nah, Cher,” Carl replied. “They just know somehow.”

“How do you know who I am?” Cheryl grabbed the beak of Wolf’s faceplate.

Wolf unfastened the side of the mask and swung it open. “Quit jerking my head around Fanny, we’re on your side.”

Cheryl looked at Sophie who was resting her chin in her hand and had the other arm folded across her chest. Her eyes occupied a space of zen curiosity. They made eye contact and Sophie shrugged.

“This isn’t freaking you out?” Cheryl said to Sophie.

“They jumped out of a spaceship and kung-fu fought like a hundred lizard people with buzzy, glowing knives that came out their sleeves. I’m just gonna roll with this.”

“High Priestess?” Holly said approaching Sophie, looking sheepish. “I’m Holly Jones. This is so weird. I’ve heard so many stories about you. I wanted to grow up to be just like you.”

“Oh,” Sophie chirped and gave Holly a confused grin. “Kay.”

“You’re also the only other family I’ve met besides my parents.”

Sophie rifled through a myriad of emotional states and expressions, finally settling on sudden endogenous DMT trip.

“HA,” Cheryl cackled and pointed at Sophie. “I knew this shit would get weird for you, eventually.”

“What Holly means to say, Grandma Sophie,” Wolf interjected.

“Pfft,” Cheryl snickered, “Grandma.”

Ian and Hunter giggled.

Sophie snapped her head to them, “E tu?”

“This,” Wolf waved his hands around his frame, “Is what your DNA eventually becomes in several generations. Then it gets fucked with by mad government scientists and combined with the DNA of someone who was also fucked with by the aforementioned scientists- my partner, Luna. And that put together makes Holly. You’re biggest fan. You’re however many fucking greats granddaughter. Speaking of biggest fans," Wolf spotted Ian and beelined for him. He grabbed his hand and shook heartily. “Piper, your record, 'Swingin’ at Bob and Barbara’s’, easily my top five. Have it in every format. Hunted that shit down on vinyl. Cost me the equivalent of three bounties. Luna was sooo pissed. Worth it.”

Ian looked at him askance but nodded. “Thank...you.”

Wolf moved to Hunter and pointed, “You’re who I always wanted to be.”

“Dad, dial it back,” Holly said looking at her tablet.

“Right,” Wolf called over his shoulder, “I’m bootstrapping the shit out this, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” Luna replied.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ian stepped toward Wolf. “As in the Bootstrap Paradox?”

“One and the same,” Holly replied.

Ian looked at Holly with his mouth hanging open.

“Yeah,” Holly said, “From the future. 2342.”

Bit by bit, Ian formed a dopey grin.

“Holy shit, you guys,” Cheryl said. “Roland is smiling.”

Holly looked at her device and made a sad face. “I guess I can live without that show. I’m forgetting it already.”

“I have to sit down,” Ian said dropping to his rear.

“Yeah, I bet smiling took a lot out of you,” Cheryl patted him on the head.

“Okay, old people,” Wolf bellowed. “Everybody in the The Starcrossed.”

“We’re not getting in there,” Cheryl protested. “We have to go back to our...secret...hide...out.”

“Yeah, whatever you’re calling a secret hideout,” Wolf said, “It’s shit.”

“You haven’t even seen it,” Cheryl murmured.

“I don’t even have to look at it. It’s dogshit. Probably full of vintage 21st-century shit you can buy at a Spencer’s where I come from.”

Cheryl looked forlorn and mumbled, “Smells like shit too.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go for a ride,” Wolf slapped his hands together and clasped them.

“You expect us to get on board a strange spaceship just because you jumped out and...and.”

“Saved your ass from a Draconian raiding party? You have trust issues, Fanny.”

“It’s called being careful.”

“Fair,” Luna interjected. “But we’re on the same side. Or if you’re not ready to make that leap then... we at the least have a common enemy.”

“Who?”

“Yaldabaoth, The Demiurge.”

“I fucking knew it,” Sophie blurted.

“Knew what?” Cheryl asked Sophie. “Who the fuck is Yaldabaoth the Demiurge?”

“Short answer, a shit weasel,” Wolf said.

“Long answer?”

“He was a small-time crook who took a hack idea and turned himself into the most dangerous person in the galaxy. He would visit pre-civilized worlds posing as a deity. Breeding his own legions of beings that would do anything for him. Even kill and die. Whole societies built for him.” Luna explained. “But for a long time he was just using that power to do the same stupid shit he was doing before, just on a grander scale, a galactic Don Corleone. Galactic Intelligence made his life difficult, but never really shut him down.”

“He’s also the puppet master behind Simon Vyx,” Wolf added.

Cheryl perked.