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X-KALAY. When Alex opened his car door, it flexed. I closed it carefully. The whole car looked homemade, seats from an old VW, round dialed instruments, lawnmower type gear shift, plastic and fiberglass body.
    “What kind of car?”
    “Berkeley eco-deco. Gets about seventy-five miles to the gallon, bums alcohol.”
    “Okay,”
    “Would you prefer pedaling a Vector?”
    “Not up hills like the ones we went up last night.”
    “I moved here after they passed restrictions on gasoline cars. More paperwork to get a gasoline permit than a marijuana user’s permit, that’s Berkeley.”
    The little car didn’t stink as did the gasoline burner we’d ridden in yesterday, but it threatened to balk in the hills.
    “It’s a real obvious car,” I told him, meaning he could be followed easily.
    “I didn’t drive it to pick you up yesterday, did I?” He sounded annoyed, like I’d challenged him in spy tradecraft. “Even these pollute some.”
    The oaks had shrunken leaves, small oaks—I was sure they were oaks, though, by the acorns. I didn’t speak, just looked at the weird vegetation. Alex parked in a lot with signs pointing to various hiking trails, giving their distances in kilometers.
    We began walking through sage plants, weird scrubs, things with twisted orange bark. Finally Alex plopped down on the ground and said, “Sit down.”
    “Are you going to smoke?”
    “Never smoke in chaparral during the summer. Fire hazard.”
    “Man, I don’t want to get busted here. Carstairs suspects something.”
    “He can’t prove anything. Not a thing.”
    “If he did a DNA type on you, he’d know you’re alien.”
    “He hasn’t.”
    “But he’s a fucking weapons engineer.”
    “He never talks about that. Just the theoretical stuff, the dimensions stuff, worm holes.” Alex sighed and nibbled at some sage. “Tom, I want to know when Earth makes gate contact. He’ll know. I’m not a security threat, really. He doesn’t even know where I live. You don’t either. And he’s exciting. Am I like other Ahrams?”
    “No, most of you guys are calmer.”
    “Being around humans did it, almost like neural re-wiring.”
    “If Earth made contact, would Karst hand you over to the Feds?”
    Alex looked disgusted, muscles rippled around the big jaw. “I don’t want to be surprised. Jail is horrible, isn’t it?”
    “I’m Academy. I don’t like sneaking around. And you’re teasing Carstairs, some way, and putting me in danger.”
    “You’re a prissy little human. “ He got up.
    I scrambled to my feet fast, suddenly aware of how isolated this trail was today; how big he was. “Do the Barcons know about Carstairs?”
    “They’re lucky; they don’t need friends. Humans are enough like Ahrams to be…” He stopped talking and bit his lower lip.
    “You made friends with a weapons designer? The Feds know he’s got a big blond friend—you better believe it.”
    “Judging from the reports, I like humans better than you do.”
    “So I had terrible fights with the Tibetans.”
    We began walking down the trail toward his car. He asked, “And how is Black Amber?”
    “Fine, she and Wy’um had a son.”
    “Behind every liberated Gwyng male is a truly ambitious pouch sister.”
    “That’s cynical.”
    “But true. The males are useless. I had to deal with the crisis over Mica. After Black Amber was wounded, Rhyodolite coma’ed out, the stupid bastard. Cadmium, I guess he wasn’t any more hysterical than usual.”
    “Yeah. What do you know about the people Black Amber wants me to meet?”
    “Nice girl. I’m glad I’ve been altered to speak perfect Midwestern English or she might have tried to analyze where I come from.”
    “Are you from the Ahram home planet or are you Karst-born?”
    “Karst-born.”
    “Are all the Karst-born weird for their kind?”
    “No weirder than you are for yours, Tom,” Alex said. We could see the car from the hill and began talking of other things, like manzanitas, black sage,