Only I was.

"What's wrong?" Jeff asked me quietly as we waited at an elevator bank we'd reached by wandering the rat maze that were the hallways of NASA Base. This wasn't my favorite place on Earth to visit. I wasn't hungry, thankfully, but I still felt like I would, ultimately, find either a big piece of cheese or a steel trap whenever we reached our destination.

"I think I'm having flashbacks."

"Ah." He rubbed the back of my neck. "Don't worry, baby. We'll all be fine and heading home shortly."

The elevator arrived and Chuckie insisted we all pile in together. Nine people in an elevator is a lot, especially when most of them are big guys, but I was okay being smooshed up between Jeff, White, Len and Kyle. Jeff had made sure Buchanan and Chuckie were on the other side of the car, which was sort of on the sweet side of his jealousy meter.

Once we were all in the elevator, instead of pushing a button for one of the floors, Chuckie used a special keycard. A panel I hadn't realized was there opened and a keypad slid out. He entered a passcode he ensured none of us could see. The reason for us all being chummy in the elevator was explained.

"Are we having a Get Smart moment?"

Chuckie heaved a sigh and ignored me. Well, he shot me his "seriously?" look and then ignored me.

We headed right down into the bowels of the earth. This, more than anything else, confirmed we were heading into the A-C controlled part of the facility-A-C bases tended to go down, not up.

The doors opened onto a part of NASA Base I hadn't seen before. It looked like we were entering the floor of a typical office building. A sterile, very white, very quiet office building.

We trooped down a long hallway. "You know, this is sort of like 2001: A Space Odyssey. Or Men in Black. Or both."

"It's the secured floor," Chuckie said.

"Secured for what? There's no one here but us."

"Almost no one." Christopher pointed to the end of the hall. There was a reception desk, manned by a young Hispanic woman with large glasses and long black hair. Matching the rest of this floor, she was dressed in white. She didn't smile when we finally reached her.

She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't Dazzler level in any way, so it was a safe bet she was human. Most A-Cs at least shot you a smile the first time they met you, too.

Chuckie handed her his badge. "I have personnel for the HSAC exam," he said without preamble. "You should be expecting us."

The woman didn't look impressed by the badge, which was a first in my experience. She examined it and sniffed, then examined all of us and sniffed again. Not the "what's that smell" kind of sniff, but the "you're beneath me" sniff. I wondered if she'd ever met Mrs. Darcy Lockwood, my Washington Wife class instructor, or if she'd picked up how to be supercilious all on her own.

Her clothing didn't scream "impressive." The suit was okay but a little baggy on her, and her blouse was sort of wrinkled.

Before I could ask if she'd recently lost weight, she deigned to speak to us. "My name is Sandra. I'll be monitoring your activity during the HSAC."

"Does that mean you're administering the test?" Chuckie asked.

"No. We have someone for that. I'll be there to ensure there is no cheating."

"Why would we cheat? It's not like we won't get into a good college or something if we flunk."

This earned me another dismissive look. "You'd be surprised." Sandra turned back to Chuckie. "I had five individuals listed."

"There should have been six." Chuckie indicated Buchanan. "He should be on the list, too. May I see it?"

Sandra handed a small clipboard over, a tad unwillingly if I was any judge. I was sure she'd recently lost weight, because the clothes just didn't fit her right. Maybe she was still dieting and so hungry. I didn't like to miss a meal, so I could cut her some slack over being a little testy due to limited caloric intake.

"Huh." Chuckie showed the list to Jeff, who grunted.

"What?"

Chuckie looked at me. "Your name isn't on the list."

"Cool! I'll just wait out here with all of you, then!"

"You have to take this test, Kitty," Christopher said, shooting me Patented Glare #1.

"Apparently I don't."

"Kitty Katt?" Sandra asked.

"That's me, yes. Well, my maiden name."

"Ah." She pulled out a slip of paper from her jacket pocket. "Yes, I have you here. Kitty Katt-Martini. You're supposed to take the test alone."

"I beg your pardon?" Chuckie and I said that one in unison.

Sandra shrugged and handed her slip of paper to Chuckie. His eyes narrowed. "This is highly unusual. I'll have to clear it. With much higher level personnel," he added meaningfully.

This didn't seem to bother Sandra, who shrugged again. "Suit yourself. We'll take the others in now."

"No," Chuckie said firmly. "They all test together or they don't test at all."

Sandra heaved a sigh while Chuckie tried to make a call. "No reception," he said finally.

"That's because this floor is insulated in all ways," Sandra said. She didn't add "duh," but it was obvious she was thinking it. "So you can leave to make your phone call, or we can follow the orders given."

Chuckie seemed torn. I couldn't blame him. I didn't want to let Sandra win this one on general principles, all oddities aside. Plus, I wasn't wild about being tested all by myself in the first place, and I was certain Mom wouldn't be pleased that Buchanan wasn't in the room with me.

Then again, getting this test over with had advantages, and we were already here. "I'll be okay," I said quietly to Chuckie.

Jeff took my arm and Chuckie's and moved us away from Sandra's desk. "I'm not getting anything but annoyance from her," he said in a low voice. "She wants us to stop wasting her time so she can get her job done and go home, but that's all I've gotten. No malicious intent, other than the fact she's not happy to be here on the weekend."

"I don't like it," Chuckie said. "There's no reason for Kitty to be tested separately, other than to have an easy way to attack her when she has no backup."

"You want to go back and do this at Langley?" Jeff didn't seem excited by the idea. "We have a lot going on that we have to handle the moment we're back in D.C."

Chuckie heaved a sigh. "No, you're right. I'm probably seeing things that aren't there."

"First time for everything. Chuckie, seriously, if you don't think this is safe, let's go and we'll deal with this back at the Embassy."

"I can't read any of you in on what's going on until you've taken, and passed, this test," Chuckie said. "And I need to be able to read you in, quickly. And your husband hasn't picked up anything dangerous."

"Then let's just go for it. If someone tries anything, I have hairspray with me."

Chuckie shrugged. "I'd prefer it if you had your Glock."

"Left it at home, under the correct assumption the many security checkpoints here would have taken it away from me."

"Okay, against my better judgment, let's go for it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Superbeing formation and attack," Jeff said without missing a beat.

"Superinsulated floor," I reminded him. "I'd expect an assassination attempt, if I were you."

Chuckie rubbed his forehead. I had a feeling he had a migraine on the way. "Then you're the one who needs to be on the alert, Kitty, because you're the one who'll be alone."

CHAPTER 10.

AS EXPECTED, Buchanan was no happier with this turn of events than Chuckie, Jeff, or I were, but after some more quiet arguing the others dutifully trotted into their room to the left of Sandra's desk and I was taken by her into a room on the right.

The room was big enough to handle a full-sized classroom, but there were only two desks and three chairs in it. One desk was all by its lonesome in the middle of the room, and it looked like a deluxe high school desk. Clearly, this was where I was supposed to hang out. The other desk looked like a teacher's desk, was close to the far wall, and had a normal office chair with it. There was no one in said chair.

"Put your purse in the basket under the chair," Sandra instructed as she went to the third chair that had no desk partner. It was a high swivel-stool with a back and arms. She looked liked the Good Humor Lifeguard sitting in it.

I did as instructed. It was difficult to shove my purse in, in part because my purse was big and stuffed full of things I felt imperative to have with me at all times-like my iPod, speakers, Jeff's adrenaline harpoon, teething biscuits, baby wipes, hairspray, and more-and also because the basket seemed set up to not let you get your stuff out once you'd foolishly shoved it in.

"Can I have my iPod out?"

"No. Nothing."

"Why not? If this place is as insulated as you say, there's no way I'd get some cheater transmission or anything."

"Those are the rules."

"Screw the rules," I muttered under my breath. But despite my desire to flip Sandra the bird, I left everything in my purse and sat in the chair.

Sandra seemed about to say more when the door at the other end of the room, near the teacher's desk, opened. An older man with wire-rimmed glasses, sandy hair, and a well-kept moustache poked his head in.

"I'm looking for Susan," he said. "She's supposed to be helping me administer the HSAC."

"She went home sick," Sandra said. "I'm covering."

"Then why are you in here?" He seemed to notice me for the first time as he stepped fully into the room. He wasn't too much taller than me, and though he was dressed all in white, just like Sandra, his slacks and mock turtleneck fit him properly. He smiled warmly at me. "Ah, there's my missing student. I'm John. I'd say welcome to your HSAC test, but you're in the wrong room."

"Sandra said I was supposed to be tested alone, but I'd much rather be with the rest of my diplomatic mission."

John gave Sandra a confused look. "I didn't get any instructions like that. I have six students listed on my roster. I can't start the test without Missus Martini." He looked at me. "You are Katherine Katt-Martini, right?"

"Indeed!" I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. I got up and got my purse. It was close to impossible to get it out of the basket, but by using some of my hyperstrength I was able to do it. Then I trotted over to John. "Let's join the others."

"Suit yourselves," Sandra said quietly.

We left my Solitary Confinement Classroom and went to another room. It was set up similarly to how the room we'd just left was, only this had plenty of desks and also had the others to be tested in it. Buchanan looked relieved to see me, but he wiped that expression off quickly.

"You need to have at least one desk between you and anyone else," John told me. I picked a spot in the middle between Amy and Len, which was in front of White. Kyle and Buchanan were both nearer to the back of the room.

There was a stool for Sandra in this room, too, and she perched on it. "I was sent additional questions," she told John.

He stared at her. "Why? And why were they sent to you? I'm the administrator of this test in this facility."

She shrugged. "Maybe they couldn't reach you."

"You can ask your questions at the end," he said firmly. "These folks have been delayed long enough."

Sandra sighed and pulled out a packet from her jacket. I had no idea how she'd hidden it in there. "Official orders."

John took the packet and examined it. "Sealed." He shrugged. "Looks right, so fine. Now then," he turned to us, "please put all your personal items, including any electronics, in the basket under your seats and we'll get started."

Amy's purse was already in her basket. I reluctantly put mine away again. Happily, this desk's basket seemed normal and not like it was trying to take my purse captive and never let it go again.

John handed out a folder and mechanical pencils to each of us. The folders had our names on them. "This is not a timed test," he shared as he went back to the teacher's desk. "So there's no pressure. Just choose what you believe is the best answer for each question, and when you're done, turn your test over and raise your hand. Obviously, no talking amongst yourselves."

He sat and watched us while we got going. My mother had trained me to always read the test through fully before answering, especially if there was no time limit given, so I followed Mom's teaching and did so.

At least, I read the first few pages. Then I surreptitiously checked out what Amy and Len were working on. Their pages seemed normally thick. Not my set. It was like I was holding the Fall Fashion issue of GQ in my hands-my special test had a lot of pages. Sadly, most of them were not ads featuring handsome men in great clothes. All of them were filled with questions I was expected to answer.

There were a lot of convoluted questions, some multiple choice, some yes/no, some requiring an essay answer. I refrained from asking if we were actually taking the SATs again, because the questions weren't about algebra or literature. I did recognize the types of questions they were, however.

This was a psych evaluation, and a really complex one. My father had given tests like this to me, Chuckie, Amy, and Sheila, my other best friend from high school, and, as I thought about it, to all my sorority sisters somewhere along the line. Always under the guise of either having fun or using us to see if a test was too hard or too easy. That none of us had questioned why a history professor needed to give psych evaluations was probably not something I needed to ponder at this precise moment. However, I did know this kind of test when I saw it.

There were a variety of questions, all asking the same things in different ways, all trying their hardest to ensure that the testee wouldn't have any idea what the "right" answer was, nor be able to fake replies for too long.

While I contemplated which response was the most accurate for me in the question of who I would save during a bank robbery-when the offered replies were Other Bank Robbers, Bank Manager, Your Accomplices, or Best Hostage Option-the balance of my mind was trying to figure out what this test proved and why everyone working with Centaurion Division in a nonmilitary role had to take it.

Every question seemed to be determining what level of bad guy the responder was. I scanned the test again. Sure enough, every question I saw seemed more suited to The Club of Evil Megalomaniacs Entrance Exam than the HSAC test, at least insofar as it had been described to me. I couldn't imagine Jeff and Christopher thinking this test was no big deal.

"Yes, Mister White?" John said.

I looked up and around. White had his hand up.

"I'm done." White smiled at me. "I saw no reason to prolong the experience."

Ah. He'd used hyperspeed. Lucky duck. I wasn't able to control it well enough to read and write like an A-C could. I wanted to ask White what he'd thought of the questions, but John had him bring his test forward, then had White sit at the front, near to him.

One by one, everyone else finished. I was still struggling with how to answer any of these questions and not sound like my next act after the test was going to be blowing up the Base. Maybe they'd put this into effect after Operation Drug Addict, because of Serene and the Security team infiltration. But even so, this test wasn't going to tell anyone anything realistic about our crew.

The others were all sitting in a row in front of me by now, and they were clearly antsy. I couldn't blame them. I normally didn't take forever to do a test.

I flipped to the back, to see if there were any normal questions before I gave up and asked for a room so I could eat and sleep while finishing the test version of War and Peace. As I did so, Sandra spoke again.