"First of all, let me apologize for this place. It takes a while for the computers to be able to render your thoughts efficiently enough to let you build the environments. This is a default room."

"I figured this wasn't real. So, where am I?"

"You are in your dream state. This is the place where dreams happen. Right now, your body is still on the couch, there are several dozen Handlers; we would prefer if you called us that since you could never pronounce our names, waiting for my report. Thanks to many years of trial and error with the other human we have figured out ways to stimulate the part of your brain that allows you to dream. We find dreams rather fascinating since none of the races we have come upon dream."

Captain Cook was taken aback. She had never thought of dreaming as a human, or Earth, thing. She would have to ask the Commander if he dreamed next time she saw him.

"It was the first time we were ever really able to communicate with him and we think he enjoyed the experiments. He told us that it was the only time he could interact with other people, even if those people were imaginary. It brought us joy and taught us a lot about your race."

"If you know so much, what do you need me for?"

"Because, of all the things he taught us he could never tell us what we really needed to know. Where is Earth?"

"You know I'm not going to tell you that," Captain Cook replied crossing her legs. She hated the fact she had to pull her skirt down so it would stay below her knees. Why couldn't they have put me in pants? She thought.

"I'm sure Captain Ruzoto told you we live a very long time."

"How long exactly?"

"I have lived long enough to see this star be born. I have lived long enough to see my old home die. I will live long enough to see your sun go nova. I hope to live long enough to see the end of the universe, maybe that's when I'll die."

"And you all live this long?"

"There has never been a case where one of us has died of old age. We can die in accidents of course. Suicide is another option. We don't age, so we don't die. We don't die, the population continues to grow. We need a place to stay. We need resources, and building spheres is the perfect solution for us. This sphere will fill up soon, and we'll need to move to another one. We want that one to be Earth."

"There are plenty of stars, why Earth?"

"Because you will grow, you will expand out into the solar system and you will find us and we will compete with each other for resources. We can't have that. We need to stop you now before you get too big."

"We could live together in peace. The universe is a big place."

"Not big enough!" He yelled, his dark eyes grew larger with his sudden outburst of rage. "We'll keep growing, keep expanding. We'll need it all, all the energy of the universe to survive. We'll need it all before it's gone because we will be around until it's gone. Don't you understand, we need to be the last and we will be the last."

Captain Cook realized what was at stake. It wasn't just Earth or Ulliam. It was the whole galaxy, the whole universe they were after.

Chapter twenty.

The room was very odd looking. Some object hung from the walls while others were planted firmly on the floor. The room smelled to Juliet like chocolate cupcakes, Professor Ricter said it smelled to him like vanilla pudding. The only light came from the glow of the sun through a small set of polarized windows.

"I wonder if they are blind," Professor Ricter said.

"They have windows, why would they have windows if they were blind?"

"Perhaps they can only see light," he replied. "That thing looked right at us and didn't see us, maybe it can only make out shapes."

"What about the smells?" Juliet asked walking over to the strange object on the wall. She ran her fingers across it, no screen, no keyboard, nothing to indicate what it was.

"I still don't know," Professor Ricter knelt down to look at another nondescript box. "I have a theory but I would need to test it."

"How?" She asked pressing what looked like a button. From a tiny hole located on the top of the box shot out a white mist. It hit Juliet in the face, and she stumbled backward holding her hands up to her eyes. She let out a short involuntary yelp.

The Professor was there in an instant. He quickly undid his tie to wipe the stuff off her face. "Interesting, this smells like strawberries."

"Well good for it." Juliet replied sarcastically while rubbing her eyes. "What was that?"

"I think it's how they communicate, or one of the ways. I think they have a scent based language and that's why we keep smelling odd things when they're around."

"Why do both of us smelling different things?"

He gave it careful thought before answering. "Our minds can't understand what we're smelling. Scent is underdeveloped in humans. Perhaps we are being assaulted by fragrances we don't know or understand so the mind is filling in the details thus, strawberries for me and you?" He pointed to her expecting her to finish the sentence.

She cleared her throat and replied. "Banana cream pie."

"The way we interpret the scents could say a lot about our personality. Perhaps you want some pie." She lightly punched his shoulder and, to her surprise, he smiled. "I don't think we'll be able to find anything here. We have enough information to take back to the Captain. Come on, let's go."

They both froze when they heard a click and saw the door slide open. The Professor grabbed Juliet but the arm and pulled her into a darkened corner.

Several Handlers skittered in, stamping their feet on the ground, creating a noise that sounded like someone dumping a box of nails onto a steel table. Juliet heard puffing sounds as they communicated with each other and the room quickly filled with a light mist that hovered above her ankles. She was unable to see her feet in the yellow haze.

Then, all seven of them lifted themselves up above the mist and walked over to the strange boxes that were on the wall. They seemed to be agitated, but that was something Juliet couldn't be sure of.

The boxes came to life, filling the rooms with strange scents. The boxes on the ground rumbled, sending vibrations through the floor. The Handlers replied back by spraying the screens with scents and tapping the ground.

"I'm thinking they not only communicate with scent but with vibrations."

Juliet nodded, not wanting to say anything. How sensitive were their ears? Juliet looked carefully at the black orb that she assumed were their heads looking for ears. Not finding anything that even closely resembled an ear. She looked at the stalks and saw them twitching. They don't have ears or noses, the antennas detected everything.

Professor Ricter leaned in again. "I think the antenna are-"

Juliet stopped him but placing her hand on his mouth. "I know. I figured it out. Now be quiet, we don't know how sensitive they are." She looked at him and saw a look of amusement on his face. Why does he have a bad reputation? She thought, he seemed pleasant enough for me.

They continued to work, tapping the ground, sending out scents, turning to each other and repeating the process. Juliet was fascinated by what she was seeing and wondered what they could possibly be talking about. She was sure the arrival of the Arwen was interesting, but they were on the Sphere now and surely they couldn't be talking about that. Or could they? What was happening over there?

The stress of the situation, the body heat from nine bodies and the fact the room was warm to begin with caused Juliet to sweat. She felt droplets forming on her back, soaking her shirt. She padded the sweaty beads on her forehead.

One of the Handlers slammed his feet onto the ground loudly startling Juliet and the Professor. The other Handlers stopped. They all moved their stalks around the room, not twitching like before, purposefully moving them back and forth.

"I don't like this," Professor Ricter said.

Juliet looked at the Professor and saw he too was sweating. "I think it's our sweat." She whispered. "They might be able to detect our body odor."

One of the Handlers snapped its antenna over to her voice. She stopped talking and looked at the Professor. He ran his fingers across his lips telling her to zip it. She nodded. He pointed to the ground. The mist from their conversations floated a few feet above it.

Professor Ricter crouched under the mist and started crawling. He got to her ankle and tugged on it, urging her to get down with him. She sighed and did her best to breathe through her mouth. Even the taste of the short conversation nearly caused her to dry heave. She tried her best to gauge how far away the door was and wondered if she could hold her breath until they made it. I have to try. She lifted her head above the mist and breathed in deeply, then held it as she moved under again.

Slowly, the two of them inched toward the door. Juliet had no idea what they would do once they got there but she suspected it would be to open it, crawl through as fast as they could, and then run toward the wormhole. It was going to take a long time and she didn't think she could hold her breath for that long.

She looked over when heard the sound of multiple feet tap on the ground. One of the Handlers was right next to her. She saw its armor, saw how the plates overlapped each other to form a shell that would be very hard to penetrate. She looked at his feet to see a wave-like pattern on the pad. Thin hairs on the feet swept across the floor.

Juliet reached out and grabbed the Professor by his foot. He stopped moving and looked back. She couldn't tell him what she saw, couldn't tell him to stop because it looked like the Handler was probing the ground with the feelers, trying to sense any vibrations on the floor. At least that's what she thought they were doing; there was no way to tell.

Her lungs ached, and she wanted to exhale. Would they feel that? Were those feelers and antennas sensitive enough to feel a slight difference in the air current?

Professor Ricter wiggled his foot, trying to shake her hand off it. She looked at him while he looked back. She pointed to the Handler and he nodded, hopefully in understanding.

Behind her she heard another Handler fall to the ground. The Handlers was close. She gasped, letting the air out of her lungs. The mist in front of her wavered and cleared for a moment. She looked back, unable to see the Handler that was on her side. She grabbed the Professor's foot again and just as she did, a Handler landed between her and the Professor.

She stood quickly and jumped over it. The Professor stood as well and the two ran to the door, the Handlers behind them went crazy with scent's and foot pounding. Juliet made it to the door first and kicked it out with her foot. "Go!" She yelled at the Professor and he crawled through.

She looked back to see all the Handlers had fallen to the floor and were pounding their feet loudly. It was deafening. Juliet did her best not to panic, but she really wished the Professor would move faster as he wormed his way through the door.

When she saw his feet disappear she bent down and crawled through, the Hander's continued their pounding. She placed the door back hoping it would deaden the sound. It did, but only slightly.

Professor Ricter grabbed her hand and pulled her, encouraging her to run. "We need to get back," he said. "Their actions indicate they weren't warriors but their pounding is probably an alert, our equivalent of screaming for help."

"Then let's go!" Juliet yelled.

They ran as fast as they could toward the wormhole. That was home. That was safety. They could go to the Arwen with the information they had and let them decide what to do, let them figure out the next step.

There was no sign of pursuit yet they ran fast. Juliet took a quick glance behind her and saw nothing but the dust from their feet. She slowed down and grabbed the Professor's arm to slow him down. He was breathing heavy, his face red with strain. "I don't run that much."

"I don't think we have to. It looks like we're clear."

"They might not have as much security here. I guess they never figured they would be bothered. Still, I think we should get back as quickly as we can."

"No arguments, let's go."

The Professor was panting heavily trying to catch his breath. He rubbed his chest as if massaging his lungs would make them work any better. "I think we should get you on some sort of exercise program."

"Yes, indeed, we should when we get back and I have time. I'll be fine. It's been a long time since I had to run."

They rounded the corner and found the door they first exited still open. Juliet bent down first and peaked in. She slowly crawled on the ground and looked around. It seemed all clear and she moved through. "Don't come until I tell you."

"Please hurry," he replied. "I'm not feeling very well. That run took a lot out of me."

That worried her. She did a quick sweep of the room and found it exactly as they had left it. "Okay, come on."

Professor Ricter crawled through the hole and stood. His face had taken on a different color, it looked pale and he actually seemed to be sweating more than he did after he stopped running. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "No, my dear. I am not. I believe we had better hurry back to the Arwen."

She grabbed his hand and the two stepped through the silver sphere. The trip back seemed to take longer than the first time, and Juliet felt a different kind of sensation. She was nauseous.

When they stepped out she hunched over and tried her best not to throw up.

The Professor stumbled forward trying to catch his balance. He looked around, then placed his hand on Juliet's shoulder. "Does this place look familiar?"

Juliet looked up and did not like what she saw. The room was different. In front of her was an old star, barely producing enough light to brighten the room. She walked up to the window and looked out. They were still on a Dyson Sphere, but she knew it wasn't the same one they had left. The panels were black and she saw a ring of dust orbiting the dead sun.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

"We keep trying." He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the wormhole again.

The journey was longer than the other two combined. Juliet had to keep her eyes and mouth closed. She didn't want to breathe because she wasn't sure if there was anything other than the strange silver space of Wormhole Beta. For the first time she could feel it passing over her skin. It felt as if she were moving through a fluid more viscous than water.

Finally, when it felt as if she couldn't hold her breath for one more second, she fell out and onto the floor. This time she did vomit. "Professor, that was horrible."

She got no answer and looked up. The Professor was nowhere to be found. When did she lose him? Not knowing what else to do she ran toward the wormhole ready to leap back into it. She was in mid air when a wall fell in front of her, blocking her from the wormhole. "No!" She yelled punching the wall with a tight fist. "No, no, no, no!"

She looked around, hoping to find some sort of control panel but found nothing. The room was empty. There wasn't even a window could look out. She was alone and trapped. They had captured her. She was a prisoner of war now and would never see her home world ever again.

Chapter twenty-one.

"Why did you take me here?" Marjorie asked.

"We didn't take you anywhere," her handler replied. "You're in control, I'm only along to observe."

It was a strange sensation Marjorie felt as she looked down at her six-year-old self. It was like a dream where you could see yourself in the dream yet also felt the emotion that your dream self was feeling.

Six-year-old Marjorie Sanders, it would become Marjorie Cook in about fifteen years, held her father's hand. She felt safe holding that hand. She remembered that hand guiding her across crowded streets, helping her out of anything she had fallen into while playing in the woods near her Pennsylvania home.

Her father, she thought about him at least one a day but never thought she'd get a chance to see him again. The memory of what he looked like hadn't faded, it never could, even though he died before he had a chance to see what she would become. He was tall with prematurely graying hair. His face was youthful in this memory, his eyes clear and filled with intelligence. He wore a pair of glasses because any treatment he took to make his eyes better always seemed to fail, after a while he simply refused anymore treatments and the glasses worked perfectly fine for him. After all the pain he went through trying to get his eyes fixed he stopped trusting doctors. That's what killed him and that's what made life with him so difficult.

This memory was one she thought about often, the first time she saw a starship in person. The first time she knew exactly what she wanted to be.

"What is this place?" Her Handler asked.

"Clarke station, a museum in orbit around Earth. I kept begging him to take me here for my birthday."

Her dad looked down at the young Marjorie telling her to be careful as they stepped off the shuttle. The gravity of Clarke station caused her to stumble. She had never experienced artificial gravity and feeling it for the first time took almost everyone by surprise. It just didn't feel right at first, but you quickly got used to it.

Her dad was an engineer and was used to traveling into space. "He helped build the first rail gun on the moon," Marjorie said. "Well, he helped design it."