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or insensible to her roving gaze. “We understand these traits. We’ve seen them before with other species we’ve picked up along our travels.”
    “I thought you only picked up plant life,” Aimee mentioned absently, her eyes still locked with the young man in the shadows. Just because she was distracted didn’t mean that she wasn’t listening. It was a survival trait in her household.
    He had dark hair, shorter than the styles that seemed common in this bizarre place. She guessed him to be a few years older than her, although something in his countenance hinted at a maturity far beyond his physical years. He stared at her, his mouth set in a straight line. Not congenial, not disapproving. Not even curious. He just watched her, almost as if she were his prey. Aimee felt a chill and realized that Vodu was still talking.
    “On occasion—such as in your case—our life-tracker locks on one thing, and something else jumps into the field before we can terminate the beam.”
    “So is that what this ship is? A bunch of others like me that you accidentally picked up?” Aimee broke from the amber gaze to search the deck again. “Is that what you all are? Who are all these people? If not accidental victims, then what—NASA? Everyone speaks English so I guess you’re from NASA, not the Russian space program or anything.”
    “Nasssah?” Vodu rubbed at his jaw. To his right, Salvan snickered. And against the backdrop of the cosmos, the man in black continued to watch her.
    “No, we are not part of your space program,” Vodu answered with a tolerant tone, “or the Russians. We speak your language because it is what you communicate in. We speak many dialects. If you started talking in Russian, we would accommodate.”
    “Madre de Dios.” Aimee dropped a line that her friend Carrie always used when she was mad.
    “Si, hablamos Espanol, tambien.” The old man responded with a perfect Latin inflection.
    Aimee was about to drop another test when a siren like none she had ever heard before pierced the deck. It was so invasive and unexpected she cowered on her knees. The shock made her nauseous.
    Vodu moved nimbly for an old man. He jogged to the highest platform, a console filled with silver figures whose fingers sashayed across luminous keypads like master maestros. A computer floated by and someone snatched it with trembling hands.
    “What is that noise?” Aimee asked of Chara, whose serene countenance now harbored tiny wrinkles of fear around her eyes.
    “We are being tracked.” Chara told her as if that explained everything.
    “Tracked?” Aimee asked, a new fear entering her mind. If these people had floating computers, space ships, and laser beams—then what possible situation or entity could make them afraid?
    “Chara.” The woman holding the suspended computer cast a strained look their way. “We need you.”
    The siren sounded like a high-pitched fire alarm of nuclear proportions and Aimee lifted her hands over her ears, but Chara was speaking to her. She followed the movements of her lips. Yep, they were worried. Aimee didn’t even begin to think that some special forces from Earth were coming to save her, but the fear in the eyes of these people was genuine. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize that if they were in danger, so was she. How could this situation possibly get any worse? Yesterday she feared being humiliated by a Lamborghini-driving jock. Today her fright knew no bounds.
    “Stay here,” Chara ordered. “I will be right back.”
    Aimee opened her mouth to respond, but the deck shook as she was jolted several feet across the floor. Fighting for balance, she looked up at the transom and to her horror saw a hulking vessel that looked remarkably like the Manhattan skyline. That was the best way to describe what she witnessed outside the bank of windows…New York City afloat in the stars. As if that wasn’t odd enough, the vessel came with what she perceived as two large, clawed