"I'm not going out," Michael interrupted.

"You're not staying with me," Max protested.

"So do you want to lie on the couch? Or do you want to go to bed?" Michael asked matter-of-factly.

Max gave up. "Bed, I guess."

Michael crossed over to him and reached out his hand. Max took it and let Michael help him to his feet.

Alex had a moment of anxiety when he walked into Moe's, one of the few places in Roswell that didn't have some kind of alien theme going on. Then he realized that there was no way he was going to get carded. He was, like, thirty years old or something.

He headed up to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. He figured the color could pass for a mixed drink, so he wouldn't feel like a total wuss.

Alex did a quick scan of the room. Whew, no Dad. He thought he might see his father there because Moe's was the hangout for the town's retired military guys. Alex didn't know if Project Clean Slate had any military connection, but it seemed likely that it could, so he figured Moe's was a decent place to find somebody who knew the guard.

He tossed aside the ridiculously thin straw and gulped down some of the ginger ale while he took a slower look around. He was hoping someone would give him a nod, or a half wave, anything that showed they had seen him-the guard-before. No dice.

If the guard came in here often enough, the bartender would probably recognize him. But the place was packed, so the guy had just slammed Alex's drink down and raced toward the end of the bar. So Alex couldn't get a sense of whether he recognized the guard or not.

When I get a second round, maybe I'll pretend like I have amnesia and ask him if he knows who I am. Alex snorted. He could just picture himself reeling around the bar with his hands pressed to his temples, murmuring, "Where am I? Who are you? Who am I?"

Maybe it would have been better to keep searching the area around the rock. But they could go back to that tomorrow. Alex couldn't help wondering how much time they had left.

Max was looking bad. The effects of the akino were speeding up. And it was really affecting his body now. In less than a day his face had thinned out. You could practically see the bones pushing their way through his thin, translucent skin. Alex felt a pang of shock every time he looked at Max.

"Scotch. Rocks," a voice ordered behind him.

A way too familiar voice. You knew it could happen, Alex reminded himself. He glanced over and saw his dad sliding onto the next bar stool.

"You military?" he asked Alex.

Of course. His dad grouped everyone into military or not military. He'd want to know who he was dealing with.

"Navy," Alex answered. It just sprang from his mouth, maybe because Jesse had been talking about it so much. Maybe because, for once, he had an opportunity to impress his dad.

"Have one in the navy, one in the marines," his dad answered.

Obviously I'm not worth mentioning, Alex thought. "Any other kids?" he asked, just to see if his dad would continue to deny Alex's existence under direct questioning.

"One. Senior in high school and he has no idea what he wants to do with his life. None," his dad answered.

"Huh," Alex grunted. Then he realized he had a real opportunity. A chance to bait Pops for his own benefit.

"Sounds like my brother, Willy," Alex commented. "My dad was really worried about him. He tried to straighten him out by getting him to start an ROTC program at his high school. But Willy… he kept weaseling out of it. Too busy farting around on his computer and chasing after girls to bother. He managed to graduate without accomplishing a damn thing." That last bit was pretty much a direct quote from his dad about what was going to happen to Alex.

"Exactly." His dad pounded his fist on the bar. "Exactly like my son. He doesn't realize that what he does in the next couple of years will determine the course of his entire life."

You suck down that bait, Dad, Alex thought, starting to really enjoy his little fishing trip.

"So how'd this brother of yours turn out?" Alex's dad asked.

"You aren't going to believe this," Alex answered. He drained his ginger ale, savoring the moment before he reeled his dad in and left him gasping on the shore.

"Willy's done real well for himself. You've probably heard of him. He goes by Bill now. Bill Gates."

His dad choked on an ice cube.

Alex grinned. Yeah, Dad. Think of that next time you start harassing me about the ROTC. I could grow up to be a big software designer who owns pretty much half the known universe.

Isabel pulled the Jeep into the Weather Balloon's parking lot. The neon sign cast a rainbow of colors over the asphalt-the blue of the balloon, the green of the little alien who kept peeking out from behind it, the red of the alien's ray gun.

She hopped out of the Jeep and stumbled. She was still getting used to her new body. The guard had some serious mass, most of it muscle, but still.

A fortyish woman in leggings with little green men all over them smiled at Isabel as she approached the door. Isabel smiled back. She believed in being kind to the less fortunate. And anyone who thought she was attractive enough to wear those leggings in public definitely qualified.

The woman's smile grew even wider. Flirtatious.

Isabel gave a soft little groan. She thinks I'm coming on to her, Isabel realized. She thinks I'm a bleached-blond male bimbo-a, uh, mimbo ripe for the picking.

She made a blank facial expression as she walked past the woman and into the bar. Yeah, she was a guy, but unwanted attention was unwanted attention. And Isabel knew how to deal with that.

Oh no. Wait, she thought. What if that woman knew me-the guard? What if I just blew off the person I came here hoping to find?

Isabel glanced at the woman. She wasn't shooting any evil glances in the guard's direction, which she probably would have had she known him and he just walked right by her like that.

This acting-like-the-guard assignment was going to be trickier than she'd thought. She spotted an empty table and headed over. Then she sat down and crossed her legs.

Very masculine, she scolded herself. She uncrossed her legs and did that thing guys do, where they take up as much space as they possibly can. She draped her arm over the rail next to the table and spread her legs wide apart. Yeah, she was a man. Give her some room.

Max would crack up if he could see her right now. His little sister working the big strongman thing.

The thought of Max sent a stab of fear through her. The akino seemed to be entering a new stage-attacking his body. And what was she doing to help him? Sitting in a bar trying to remember not to cross her legs like a girl.

A waitress in a tight Weather Balloons T-shirt hurried up to her table. The double Os in Balloon were extra big-and positioned right over her chest. Poor girl, Isabel thought. She must get a lot of comments from the classy guys who hang out here.

"I'll have a beer," Isabel said, making sure to look the waitress right in the eye. She figured she was probably the only guy not to stare at her Os all night. The waitress must have appreciated it, too, because she was back with Isabel's drink within seconds.

Isabel pretended to take a swallow of beer. She'd only ordered it because it seemed like what a guy like her would order. Besides, if she'd ordered a soda, she would have been tempted to drink it, and then she might have to pee, and peeing was not something she wanted to attempt in this body.

I wish I knew what my name is supposed to be, she thought. Someone could be calling me from the other side of the room and I wouldn't know it. She did a check of the crowd, moving her eyes quickly from person to person, careful not to give any of the ladies any ideas.