"Um, Dan-o, what was that code you just read me? Zero-eight-five-three-five-six-F-zero-two-R-P, or zero-eight-five-three-five-six-F-zero-two-R-T?" asked Joe.

"Let's try whichever one you didn't didn't just type in," I said as we received footage of a woolly mammoth playing with her baby in what looked like a prehistoric Holliswood Lake. just type in," I said as we received footage of a woolly mammoth playing with her baby in what looked like a prehistoric Holliswood Lake.

"I think that's a little too far back."

Chapter 39.

"THAT'S IT," I said to Joe. "Play that scene right there."

He turned the dial and locked in the playback codes on our improvised deep-s.p.a.ce historiscope. What we had before us was a pauseable, zoomable, playbackable recording of Number 5's arrival in Holliswood.

A pulse of light flashed in the sky over the pine forest next to a country road on the south side of town, and, in a microsecond, his fat, flabby, fishy self materialized, crackling with electricity among the burning pine trees.

Number 21 came next, and then, in a series of slow-motion lightning bolts, a handful, then dozens, then hundreds upon hundreds of alien henchfiends streaked down from the sky.

The fireworks ended with a dozen or so interstellar transport containers materializing in the midst of the horde.

Number 5 opened one and removed what looked like a small, neatly folded mesh of wires and circuits.

He unfolded it with his tentacles, carefully stretching it open to its full teardrop shape, and smiled.

"What is that?" asked Joe. "An alien-style fishnet stocking?"

I was in no mood to joke. "I think we have yet to witness the level of evil this creep is capable of," I told him as the real horror show began.

Chapter 40.

WE WATCHED ON-SCREEN as Number 5 barked some orders at his minions, who quickly dispersed into the still-burning forest. Then he borrowed what looked to be a cell phone from Number 21, placed a call, and proceeded to wait impatiently in the middle of the road.

Four fire trucks soon arrived at the scene, squealing to a stop when they saw the big, levitating, tentacled catfish hovering in the middle of the road. Number 5 took advantage of the firefighters' astonishment and calmly glided up on the roof of the ladder truck. He twined a tentacle around the flexible communications antenna on top of the cab, and blue sparks coursed down its length.

A moment later, all the firefighters poured out of their trucks, in their black and yellow suits, and formed a Macarena line as a camera crew of a dozen aliens came forward to film the dance.

The rest of the aliens returned, cheering and jeering from the edge of the burning forest as the mind-controlled firefighters slapped hands to the backs of their heads, then to their hips and gyrated.

The scene quickly shifted from absurd to abhorrent as a team of aliens advanced with unholstered blasters and began obliterating the dancing firefighters, one by one, melting them into slicks of black sludge as their film-crew colleagues zoomed in for close-ups.

The unabashed show of depravity made my insides burn. But Number 5 was clearly elated by the entire performance. He pumped his tentacle like he was Tiger Woods after making a tournament-winning putt.

When the last firefighter had been liquefied, Number 5 waved a "let's roll" gesture, and the aliens activated the hover-drives on the containers, hitching them to the backs of the fire trucks. Then, lights flashing, they drove off down the country road toward the edge of town.

Chapter 41.

JOE ZOOMED OUT the view, and we watched as all but one of the alien-driven fire trucks pulled up to a nearby farm-no doubt the Wiggers' place.

Number 5's ladder truck had broken off from the others and was now headed into downtown Holliswood. It finally stopped off the main drag in front of a squat building with a big red neon sign on top: KHAW: HOLLISWOOD COUNTY'S PREMIERE NEWS TEAM.

Number 5 hovered off the truck and followed a dozen gun- and camera-toting aliens inside the TV station.

"It makes sense, right?" said Joe. "A free press is tyranny's greatest enemy. And Number 5's all about tyranny, so the first thing he does is go after the press."

"Yeah," I said. "Although I'm beginning to think there's more to it than that. Say, TV signals travel at the speed of light too, right?"

"Right."

"Well, let's pick up the signal the station was putting out at this same moment. Can you do that?"

Joe made some adjustments, and in seconds we had a split-screen with what we could see of the TV station from the outside, plus what was on air at the time-Weatherman Ron, wearing a shiny suit, a black silk shirt, and tropical-print tie, pointing to a wavy red line on the map behind him.

"And if you thought it was hot enough for ya already, well, this ma.s.s of low pressure coming in from the west is gonna change whatchya think hot hot is. But first, it's going to bring us a whole mess of T-storms- is. But first, it's going to bring us a whole mess of T-storms-YOWZA!"

He froze as a blue spark arced out of the remote control he used to toggle through his weather maps. And then LEN's "Steal My Sunshine" began to play, and he started to dance a spastic, Blues Brothers sort of dance, distorted laughter gurgling in the background.

He kept it up for thirty seconds or so, then Weatherman Ron disappeared in a bright blue flash of light. The off-camera laughter got louder.

"Did they just vaporize Weatherman Ron on live TV? live TV?" asked Joe.

I nodded, sadly.

"I mean, he was annoying and all, but n.o.body n.o.body deserves that." deserves that."

Chapter 42.

THERE WAS SOMETHING very wrong with Gina Jensen, the news anchor. It looked like her hair had been nested in by squirrels, her makeup had been applied by chimpanzees, and her eyes had been replaced with giant marbles.

"h.e.l.lO, HOLLISWOOD," she spoke loudly and robotically. "WE AT KHAW KHAW HAVE SOME BREAKING NEWS TO REPORT. SOME VERY, VERY WONDERFUL BREAKING NEWS. SOME MONTHS AGO, HOLLISWOOD WAS CHOSEN BY SOME IMPORTANT FILM PRODUCERS TO BE THE LOCATION OF A VERY SPECIAL MOVIE. NO OTHER TOWN IN THE COUNTY, IN THE STATE, IN THE COUNTRY, IN THE WORLD WAS SELECTED. HAVE SOME BREAKING NEWS TO REPORT. SOME VERY, VERY WONDERFUL BREAKING NEWS. SOME MONTHS AGO, HOLLISWOOD WAS CHOSEN BY SOME IMPORTANT FILM PRODUCERS TO BE THE LOCATION OF A VERY SPECIAL MOVIE. NO OTHER TOWN IN THE COUNTY, IN THE STATE, IN THE COUNTRY, IN THE WORLD WAS SELECTED.

WE SHOULD BE VERY PROUD AND DO EVERYTHING WE CAN TO MAKE THE FILMMAKERS COMFORTABLE AND HAPPY. PLEASE BE SURE TO CHECK YOUR CELL PHONES, TELEVISIONS, E-MAIL, AND TEXT MESSAGES REGULARLY OVER THE COURSE OF THE NEXT FEW WEEKS. IN FACT, YOU SHOULD BE SURE TO LEAVE ON EVERY DEVICE YOU OWN AT ALL TIMES -"

She twitched suddenly, and the camera panned left to the anchorperson sitting next to her.

Only it wasn't an anchorperson...

There, in all his lard-b.u.t.ted alien repulsiveness, was Number 5.

Chapter 43.

WHAT WAS IT with this guy? In my experience, Outer Ones tended to keep low profiles as they hatched their evil schemes, but here Number 5 was going out on the airwaves, totally flaunting his presence. He was either being stupidly overconfident or scarily calculating. And all the evidence I was finding was pointing toward option two.

"Joe, this broadcast was thirty-three days ago, right?" I asked.

"Right."

"So how did he manage to do this and not set off alarms all over town and even around the world? I mean, how does a big fat alien appear on TV in a modern American town and not have anybody even notice? notice?"

"You mean besides the fact that nothing's too weird for TV these days, and people probably think it's an ad for car insurance or something?"

"Right."

"Well, I've been running some scans and comparing broadcasts from nearby towns, and it looks like that by this point he had totally cut off Holliswood from the rest of the world. All the phone lines to the outside seem to be cut. The satellite dishes have been jammed. Even the power grid seems to have been interrupted."

"But how do the people on the outside not notice that the town's fallen off the map?"

"Number 5's a smart guy. Maybe he hacked into some nationwide communications network and figured out a way to jam the wider world's alarm bells or something. I don't know. Maybe he'll explain it in this speech he's about to give."

Chapter 44.

JOE AND I turned up the volume and watched as our increasingly unpredictable foe addressed the town on live television.

"As the most important and powerful ent.i.ty ever to set foot on your pathetic soil, I accept your town's obvious and unavoidable compliance with my delegation's mission. We could call it unconditional surrender, but, of course, you didn't put up enough of a fight for there to be a surrender.

"The point is that you will do whatever I say you will do whatever I say. I say 'jump'? You start jumping and wait for me to say how high in case I care to specify. I say 'sing,' you sing. I say 'check your mail,' you check your mail. Actually, ladies, you'll find a special gift in your mailboxes tomorrow that I want you to open right away.

"And if I say 'dance,' you dance dance. And let's try to do a little better job of it than Weatherman Ron. Wasn't he just atrocious? atrocious? Here, let's practice-Gina, would you care to lead the town in our first-ever munic.i.p.ality-wide showcase? How about a little Justin Timberlake to get our toes tapping?" Here, let's practice-Gina, would you care to lead the town in our first-ever munic.i.p.ality-wide showcase? How about a little Justin Timberlake to get our toes tapping?"

The camera pulled back, and he began to clap his tentacles as "Rock Your Body" began to blast through the studio speakers. And then Gina and her producers climbed onto the horseshoe-shaped anchor desk and began a synchronized routine straight out of a Super Bowl halftime show.

I could faintly hear Number 5 laughing through the dance music.

"Joe, can you isolate Number 5's voice in the audio track, and filter out the music? Sounds like he doesn't realize he's getting picked up by the microphones."

"Easy-peasy," said Joe, patching in some algorithms. "It sounds like Fishy's conducting a separate broadcast back there."

"- true that the average human isn't worthy of being a slave on our home planets, but oh, how they can make us laugh! Welcome, viewers from Alpha Centauri to Zebulon Nexi. You are at this moment witnessing the very first minutes of the very first episode of the funniest live entertainment show in cosmic history!"

Just then the image on our monitor flickered and went blank.

"What's going on, Joe? Did we lose the signal?"

"I don't think so. It seems to be some kind of interference or -"

My heart nearly leaped into my mouth-the monitor winked back on, and there was Number 5, doing his old trick of looking right at me through a television screen through a television screen.

"You do do think I have a good chance at winning a Pulsar's Choice award, don't you, young Alien Hunter?" think I have a good chance at winning a Pulsar's Choice award, don't you, young Alien Hunter?"

How did he do it? How was he always a step ahead of me? How many other unguessed powers of his was I going to stumble upon? How many times was I going to have the feeling that not only was he toying with me, he was having me act from a script?

I fought an urge to put my frustrated fist through the monitor; I didn't want to completely lose my cool just yet. It was time to throw some att.i.tude back his way.

"The only award you're going to win is when I drag your stinky, blubbery carca.s.s down to the tackle shop and earn a trophy for the largest mutant catfish ever caught in North America."

"Are you calling me me stinky, stinky, Stinkyboy? Stinkyboy?"

"How -" I started to say but stopped and punched the flat-screen display so hard my hand went straight through, and when I pulled it back, daylight was streaming in the hole. I'd put my fist right through the side of the van.

How did he know my childhood nickname? The nickname I'd had on my home planet?! home planet?! How did he always seem to have everything How did he always seem to have everything figured out? figured out?

I grabbed the computer console and heaved it the length of the van at the back doors, where it exploded into a jillion fragments and set the van rocking like we'd run into a tree.

So much for not losing my cool.

Part Two

TWINKLE, TWINKLE, THEN YOU DIE.