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along non-perforated lines. But eventually they were on the road, speeding along a highway that slowly began to fill up with the more or less normal amount of traffic, with none of the passing motorists appearing to be engaged in carnal acts best practiced in stationary objects.
    Beth took the opportunity of a relatively clear head and road to call the governor again. This time Alice picked up in the middle of the second ring.
    “Elizabeth,” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly to maintain the front of their working relationship. “Is everything okay?”
    “More or less,” Beth said. “We’re on the road now with the object. Taking it to a federal facility that might be suitable for containing this thing if it decides to go all sex-radioactive again.”
    “I know,” the governor said. “The deputy director of the Department of Xeno-Cryptology called with an update about five minutes ago.”
    Beth gave Brad a sideways glance, trying to figure out when in the last hour or so he had found time to be debriefed by his own particular authorities. Brad didn’t notice her look. All his concentration was focused on keeping the truck in just one lane at a time.
    “Did you even know a federal Department of Xeno-Cryptology was a thing?” Beth asked the governor.
    And the governor said, “Beth, I didn’t even know xeno-cryptology was a word.”
    “I’m not entirely sure it is.”

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    They drove on and Beth felt herself again, though maybe a version of herself that could still use a meal and a nap. She considered suggesting they stop somewhere for a bite but decided not to for two main reasons—the alien cargo in the back of the truck and the pain of experiencing Brad attempting to shift gears again.
    In a moment of inspiration, she opened the truck’s glove compartment and found, amid several badly folded maps and wadded-up receipts, a candy bar and a half-eaten roll of breath mints.
    “Score,” she said, holding them up. “Main course and dessert.”
    “Any pancakes in there? I have a hankering for some pancakes.”
    “It’s a glove compartment, Brad. No pancakes.”
    She broke the candy bar in two and handed him half.
    “Cheers,” he said, holding his half forward between them. She met it with her own half.
    “Cheers.”
    They ate their respective pieces quickly.
    “Mint?” she asked.
    “I’d better pace myself.”
    She shrugged, popped a mint into her mouth and sat back.
    “Tell me a story, Brad. It’s going to be a long ride.”
    He grunted. “I’m not sure I know any stories.”
    “How about the story of Brad Davis, Super Secret Agent. I’d kind of like to hear that one.”
    “What’s to tell? I’m a Super Secret Agent.”
    “Okay. And how did you get that way?”
    “Same as most people, I imagine. I did a couple of tours in the Navy, majored in criminology in college then used a few connections from there to get on with the department. And here I am today, trying to drive a truck and prevent the sexiest national disaster in the history of time.”
    “I don’t know, I’ve read about some pretty sexy national disasters.”
    “When? In college while you were studying philosophy, art history and criminal justice?”
    Beth frowned.
    “I may have read up on you a little,” he said.
    “You don’t think maybe that comes off as a little stalkery?”
    “No. It’s research—and professional curiosity. I told you, you are a legend.”
    She popped another mint in her mouth to keep from having to say anything else. Then she said, “You know I’m going to eat all these if you don’t jump in on them, Brad.”
    “I’m good.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The sun was well gone from the sky when they crossed one of the five state lines they would have to cross before they were done. Brad’s eyes were open wide but there was a sort of wild animal quality to them that made Beth think maybe it would be time to either pull over or switch drivers. Unfortunately, she did not feel all