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both staring at me. I blink, playing mental catch up. “Sorry. It’s just...” I look down at the photo, taken by an anonymous source. The location is identifiable as Big Diomede because far in the distance, beyond a stretch of ocean, is another island. A scattering of white buildings are clumped together at the base of a tall, rocky rise. The location has been labeled Inalik, Little Diomede , revealing that the Inuit weren’t forced off of both islands. But in the foreground is the stone holding the Atlantean symbol. “...I was kind of hoping this would pass us by. That we wouldn’t see this symbol or hear the words Atlantis, Ferox, Aeros or anything else involving the past or present invasion of Earth by aliens. Monsters I can deal with, but this... How are we supposed to defend the Earth against alien invasion?”
    They’re both stumped. How could they not be?
    “But if anyone could...” Maigo starts. “I mean, how much worse could it be than Nemesis, or any of the other Kaiju that have come and gone?”
    “That’s the problem,” I say. “We don’t know. And even if the new Endo-infused Nemesis shows up for the fight, and isn’t trying to eat us , it’s not like she can defend the whole planet on her own.”
    “The way I see it...” Woodstock plucks the toothpick from his mouth and looks back. “There isn’t anyone more mentally, emotionally or physically equipped to face whatever it is we find on this Russian island, whether that be ancient ruins, aliens—dead or alive—or various assorted monstrosities. We win fights with the impossible because we don’t back down, and because we try shit the likes of which other people wouldn’t even dream up. So quit acting like a squirrel with no nuts in his nest, or between his legs, and enjoy the flight.” He taps a few buttons, and the cameras lining the outside of the strange aircraft project what they’re seeing on most of the interior surfaces, allowing us views in every direction, including down. “Also, welcome to Canada, ehh. Home of hockey, maple syrup and Patti Lebeau, who broke my heart, stole my car and left me buck nekkid and fuzzy-handcuffed to a bike rack in Montreal. But in the opposite order.”
    I smile and say, “Thanks. For the pep talk. Not so much for the mental image.”
    “I do what I can, boss.”
    We spend the rest of the flight studying what little is known about Big Diomede (not much), the Russians stationed there (even less) and the terrain, which is barren, rocky and ice covered in the winter. It’s barren, rocky and scrub-grass covered in the summer. In short, it’s the most uninteresting chunk of rock west of the International Date Line, if you ignore the photo sent to us earlier.
    The Canadians have no idea we came and went, which isn’t much of a surprise. Not because the Canadian military is too busy curling to notice us, but because no one on the planet—except maybe alien invaders—has the technology to see us. We pass over Alaska in fifteen minutes, then we descend over the Bering Strait. I’ve been on flights from Boston to New York City that were more eventful.
    Not that I want eventful. I would be content to be the human equivalent of the U.S.S. Enterprise, seeking out new life and new worlds, but without the new civilization bit...or the Borg, the Klingons or the Ferengi—those guys are nasty. New civilizations tend to suck. If Stephen Hawking is right—and I’m pretty sure he is—any advanced civilization that finds their way here will likely be hostile.
    Future Betty touches down so gently that I don’t know we’re on the ground until Woodstock turns around in his seat and says, “You going to sit around all day and wait for the Ruskies to find us?”
    Collins stands and gives me her hand, while Maigo heads for the rear hatch. “You seem...disturbed. Distracted.”
    I let her pull me up, and rub both her arms like she’s the one who needs soothing. “Let’s just get this done.”
    “Distracted