Seated a few stools away, Kyle Valenti looked up from his computer monitor. His wavy brown hair fell slightly into his angular face as he looked first toward the girls, then focused on a point in space beyond them. From the way he motioned with his head, Liz could see that something had caught his interest. He mouthed something they couldn't hear, but she lip-read two familiar words: Pod Squad.

Liz and Maria turned toward the front of the Cybernet Cafe to see their three companions striding in. Max Evans was in the lead, flanked by his sister, Isabel, and his best friend, Michael Guerin. They always look like they're striding off to war when they walk in as a trio, Liz thought. Maybe it comes naturally to them.

Of course, Liz was well aware that what was natural for these three seemingly ordinary teenagers was, in fact, rather otherworldly. Their true home was a planet called Antar, part of a solar system that had five inhabited planets. Zan had been the ruler of Antar, and his family dynasty had united the five worlds. Although Zan was well respected, there were many who felt his policies and agendas reached too far. One of those who opposed King Zan was Kivar, a general who had become an Antarian senator. Kivar spearheaded the conspiracy that overthrew Zan's empire, killing the king… as well as Zan's sister, Vilandra, his second-in-command, Rath, and his wife, Ava.

Sometime during the war that followed, the DNA of the "Royal Four"… the genetic templates for re- creating Antar's rightful leaders… was brought to Earth. Here, a faction loyal to King Zan had used a semisentient organism called Gan- darium to incorporate human DNA into that of the Royal Four. The resulting hybrid embryos were still clones of Zan, Vilandra, Rath, and Ava… except that they appeared to be human.

But despite outward appearances, Liz could never overlook the fact that her husband, Max… who was heir to the late King Zan's DNA as well as his throne… was not fully human. Neither were Isabel and Michael, who carried in them the genes of Vilandra and Rath. Liz knew she could never escape that knowledge. Four years ago, Max had healed her after she was accidentally shot at the Crashdown Cafe, which her parents operated in Roswell, New Mexico. On that fateful day, Max's healing touch had transferred some of his alien essence into her; as a result, she now sometimes manifested extra-normal powers.

Now they were on the run from the government, after one too many government investigations into the presence of aliens in Roswell had brought to light a host of unusual occurrences. They had been forced to change their appearances, to use fake names, to travel in a van together, and to be constantly on the watch for potential captors.

So, maybe they're right to be walking like they're going to war, Liz thought, still watching Max, Isabel, and Michael. And maybe I should be right there with them, with my husband. But in her heart, Liz knew she already was fighting alongside her husband. She and Maria and Kyle were risking their lives every day, just by remaining with the group.

"Are you almost done?" Max asked, keeping his voice low. He quickly looked around the cafe to see if anyone was paying attention to them. The plump woman in the floral print muumuu wasn't, nor was the counter helper, who seemed to be playing some kind of game on his computer.

"Yeah, just finishing up," Liz said.

"I just sent mine," Maria said, gesturing toward the e-mail program still running on her terminal.

Max looked over at Kyle, who grinned and shrugged slightly. "I finished quite a while ago," he said. "So I've been surfing the free adult sites. “

"How special," Isabel said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Would you hurry up, Liz?" Michael said. "We can't afford to be on these things any longer than necessary. “

Liz glared at him and turned back to her screen. She typed quickly, finishing her last sentence: Gotta go. Love you lots. Liz.

Then she clicked "Send." As soon as the system confirmed her message was sent, she hit the quit command, exiting the program…

Liz noticed Isabel pacing behind her. "This isn't fair, you know?" Isabel said, keeping her voice measured and low, but adding just enough venom to make it clear that she was unhappy. "I'm forbidden to talk to Jesse by e-mail or phone, and yet they can talk to their parents. “

"We've talked about this already, Iz," Max said. "Jesse made it seem like he made a clean break from you when he went to Boston. If he heard from you regularly, it would put him in danger too. “

"I think it's stupid for any of you to be contacting anyone back in Roswell," Michael said. "The parental units can survive without hearing from us for a while. “

"So says the guy who doesn't have any family or friends other than us," Kyle said, half under his breath.

Michael immediately shot Kyle a dirty look, but it was Maria who spoke up in Michael's defense. "Real nice, Mr. Congeniality. Chalk up some sensitivity points on your Buddha-belt for that one. “

"Hey, I said 'other than us,'" Kyle protested. "1 didn't mean anything nasty by it. “

Liz knew that Max was about to step in as peacekeeper, and sure enough, before Kyle had even finished speaking, Max strode forward, hands up, palms out. "Guys, let's cool it. Kyle, are you sure your dad is still keeping that encryption code going? “

"Yeah, I'm sure," Kyle said, clicking down on the docking bar to open an Internet browser window. He quickly typed in a URL, and the Web page for the Roswell Sheriffs Department opened. Clicking on several submenus brought him to a page labeled "Deputy James Valenti," on which a picture of the smiling former head sheriff of Roswell appeared.

Placing the mouse pointer over the badge on his father's chest, Kyle said, "See, here's the portal in." He clicked on the secret link and was sent to another page, this one with an error message on it. He added a slash and the name Kyle to the URL on the error page, and another page popped up. This one showed only text, a string of complicated-looking computer code.

With his finger, Kyle pointed to the code on the string. "Every sixth letter is the code," he said. "He's kept it changed every time we send him something. He's making sure to cover his tracks and ours. No one will find us this way. “

Roswell, New Mexico A few months earlier, shortly after the "incident" at the West Roswell High School graduation ceremonies on June 1, 2002, the members of the federal government's secretive Special Unit had met in a safe house forty miles southwest of Roswell, on the way to the town of Elk. To any member of the public, the clandestine meeting site appeared to be nothing more than a large ranch house whose absentee owners didn't often visit.

In actuality, the dwelling had previously been a tempo- -rary home for several members of the Witness Protection Program, and the acreage behind the house held more than a few secrets… as well as bodies… dating back to 1947.

The de facto leaders of the Unit-… at least those concerned with this particular operation… were the pair who had tried to kill the alien quartet during graduation. Matthew Margolin, code-named "Viceroy," was in his late fifties, his hair gone gray, but his body still strong and whipcord lean. His face bore the scars of past covert missions; he could have had some of them fixed with plastic surgery, but he chose to think of them as a testament to his survival skills. He was alive. His opponents weren't.

Margolin's second-in-command was Dale Bartolli… or at least that was the name he was using these days. Bartolli had the look of a wolverine, with fierce dark eyes, a predatory grin, and slicked-back, thinning hair. In his younger days he had been a Navy SEAL, but he had been recruited for Black Ops wetwork during the late 1980s. Margolin often fancied himself as cool and emotionless about his work as it was possible for an operative to be, but even he sometimes visibly got goose bumps in BartoUi's presence.