“I got a lock on Holly and The Starcrossed,” Luna said, tapping on a display. “They are both stationary at the moment.”

The ship began to buck and emit a piercing, intermittent squeal.

“It’s doing that thing where it sounds like an angry blue jay again,” Wolf said fighting with the stick.

Carl reached back and banged the engine block and the ship stopped whining.

“Nice trick.”

***

“Dude,” one of the bonfire boys yelled to another, “You’re not gonna meet Psamurai. This chick is either crazy or lying.”

Holly just stared into the fire.

“She doesn’t know Psamurai, she’s not from the future and she didn’t come in a spaceship. We should call the cops and have her 302’d,” the boy yelled at Holly.

“You know, I’m trying to think here,” Holly barked back. “It’s difficult with your constant chattering."

“Dude,” another boy laughed, “You gonna let a girl talk to you like that?”

The first boy stood over Holly, trying to look menacing.

“My father taught me how to throw a punch. My mother taught me how to snap a neck,” Holly said, never looking from the fire.

The boy pushed Holly to her back. She kicked him in the ankle. It snapped and he fell, his face meeting Holly’s other foot. The boy shoved his face in his hands and rolled on the ground.

“Bitch broke my dose,” the boy shrieked. The other kids laughed.

“Now, can I think in peace?” Holly said, propping herself on her elbows. “Any more loud noises you want to make? Get them out of your system.”

A loud droning erupted overhead and a stiff breeze kicked up, snuffing the struggling little bonfire, leaving the area in darkness. Flood lights snapped on and illuminated the area around Holly, still lying prone. She saw the ragged underbelly of a Seraph short range transport vessel.

“Holly Cynthia Jones,” Wolf bellowed over the PA, “What have we told you about getting into cars with strangers?”

“Holly, hon,” Luna cut in, “If you’re done beating up on your new friends we have work that needs doing.”

“Would you lower the ramp already?” Holly shouted.

“Jeez, alright,” Wolf broadcast.

“And could Psamurai come out?”

“What? Why?”

“Just go with it,” Holly groaned.

The ramp lowered and Hunter walked out to greet Holly.

“Kid,” Holly barked and pointed at the boy who had asked about Psamurai, “You. Get over here.”

The boy lolled over and stood dumbstruck.

“Who’s this?” Hunter asked Holly.

“The only one of these Lord of the Flies wannabes that wasn’t a complete jackass.”

“So you’re the Piggy of the group?”

“Mr. Psamu...sir, Mister Psamurai,” the boy yammered, “I’m your biggest fan.”

Hunter’s arched eyebrow poked out over his glasses.

“I want to grow up to be just like you.”

“Oh, well, I can recommend Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, Robert Ant….”

Holly grabbed the sleeve of his robe and pulled him up the ramp.

“Grant Morri…” the hatch hissed shut and the ship sliced off into the sky.

***

“It’s got a vintage, old timey charm to it,” Luna said, assessing Bart’s erstwhile basement and current base of operations for Cheryl and company.

“It smells like shit, Lu,” Wolf said through his hand.

Holly seemed in pain as she nodded in agreement.

“It’s fertilizer. There’s a florist upstairs. He grows Hunter’s mushrooms,” Cheryl sighed her monotone apology-explanation hybrid.

“The dankest shroo, grow in the stankest poo,” Wolf sang.

“Poetic,” Cheryl winced. “You’ll go nose blind eventually.”

“It explains the occasional hint of pig farmer.”

Cheryl frowned and smelled her sleeve.

“Before we leave we’re hooking you up with some shit.”

“You know we can’t do that, Dad,” Holly said. “That might break time.”

“At least a place that doesn’t smell like a sewer. Aren’t we breaking time just by being here? We went to Saturn to avoid messing with Earth history as much as possible and then let a shapeshifting criminal loose.”

“That’s on me,” Holly and Carl said in unison.

“It’s not on anybody,” Luna said. “You don’t usually think to look for clandestined prisons in Seraph outposts.”

“How do you track a shapeshifter?” Cheryl asked.

“It would be easy if I had a sample of its DNA,” Holly replied. “But, we’d have to track it down to get it so,” she turned her hands over like she was shaping an invisible ball in front of her. She popped to life, “Wait, it smacked its head on the console of the Starcrossed, there might be blood, or tissue, something we can use.”

Bart came ambling down the steps, “Hunter? You down there?” His head cleared the ceiling and he saw nine people shoved into his tiny basement. “Oh, the gang's all here,” he squinted through his thick specs. “There’s more of you, is there?”

“Bart,” Cheryl said. “Wolf, Luna, and Holly. The Joneses. Joneses, Bart. The florist.”

“Bart,” Wolf shook his hand. “This is a fine medieval dungeon replica you have down here. You even have the stables in the corner.”

“Oh, well,” Bart chuckled. “Tools of the trade.”

“Bart,” Cheryl said in the voice of a school teacher, “The Joneses are visiting us all the way from three hundred years in the future.”

“Oh, is that right?” Bart said with a warm, broad smile. “Welcome to the twenty first century.”

“Why did I just get fifty seven calls from the Philly PD?” Hunter said grumbling, lying on bags of seed. “And forty two calls from Bart?”

“I’ve been trying to contact you all for hours, the police as well. There’s a beast rampaging downtown.”

“Did anyone try animal control? The zoo?” Cheryl asked.

“This beast falls more under your purview,” Bart replied.

“Why do I have a bunch of calls from the cops?” Hunter growled.

“Same reason.”

“How did they get my number?”

“I gave it to them?”

“You gave it to them?”

“It was the only one of yours I knew. They put out a call for you on the television. So I gave them your number.”

“Did you ever consider it might have been a setup?” Cheryl asked.

“It’s legitimate, Miss Ellers,” Bart was solemn. “There have been casualties. If it’s a setup, it's gone terribly wrong.”

“Bart, if you can get in contact with the police, please offer our apologies. We were outside of our service area most of the day,” Ian said, “But we’re on the case now.”

“What is the case?” Cheryl asked Bart.

Bart held up his tablet showing shaky news footage of a dog-sized ant terrorizing a busy street.

“It calls itself Video Drone. An enormous telekinetic ant that seems to interact with and manipulate EM fields in the very high and ultra high frequency radio range. Can pluck things off a video feed and manifest them into reality. These manifestations then do Video Drone’s bidding.”

“A few things,” Cheryl said. “Enormous? That’s like the size of a collie at best.”

“That’s enormous for an ant,” Bart replied.

“It calls itself drone, yet it seem to bear and manipulate entities,” Ian said. “Isn’t that more like a Video Queen?”

“I did not name it, sir.”

“Okay, guys,” Cheryl said turning in her office chair. “Carl and I go with the Joneses to get the Starcrossed spaceworthy again. Ian, Sophie, and Hunter, I think you guys can handle Video Drone. Sound good?”

Nods of agreement.

“Well,” Cheryl looked around, “I guess this is where I shout ‘break’?”