There was a loud knock at the door of the Dillinger household one morning. Mr. Dillinger never particularly liked visitors, so he opened the door hoping that, at worst, it was some salesman that he could swear at and get rid of quickly.

It wasn't. It was two men in military dress uniform. Whatever Mr. Dillinger had expected, this wasn't it. "Are you Mr. Dillinger?" one of the men asked.

"Yeah." said Mr. Dillinger. "Whataya want?"

"You have a son named Keith?" asked the other man.

By this time, Mrs. Dillinger was at the door, as well, standing several steps back.

"Stepson." said Mr. Dillinger. "Her son, not mine. Don't tell me the little brat has done something to piss off the entire military."

"No, sir." said the first man. "We just want to talk with him. When he's at his grandmother's he plays with a couple of friends in a nearby woods and pond, is that correct?"

"Yeah," said Mr. Dillinger. "It gets him out of the house and out of our hair for a while, so we let him. What of it?"

Unknown to any of the adults, Keith was at the top of the stairs, listening.

"We've had some reports of strange activity in that area," said one of the uniformed men. "Bursts of light and noise, and possible sightings of aliens."

Mr. Dillinger was at a rare loss for words. Finally he spoke. "You clowns are kidding, right?"

"No, sir." said the first man, who was the ranking officer.

"So why come banging at my door?" demanded Dillinger. "Go check out that area. Or the other kids."

"We're doing that." said the second man. "We've had a little trouble identifying the others. But we also need to talk with your son."

"Yeah, well, one of the others is named Martin something-or-other." replied Dillinger. "I can't pronounce the last name. I don't know many people who can. Go find him."

"Sir, your cooperation would be appreciated." urged the ranking officer.

"I'm sure it would, soldier-boy, but seeing as how my taxes pay your salary, I resent you wasting my money chasing after a bunch of little green men and harassing me in the process. You that short on real enemies to fight? Now get out of here!"

With that, Mr. Dillinger slammed the door, and looked out a nearby window until he was certain that the two men had left. Then, without turning around, he yelled, "KEITH! Get your ass down here!"

Keith descended the stairs, but said nothing.

"You and your friends wouldn't be pulling any tricks in those woods, would you?" demanded Dillinger.

"Like what?" asked Keith.

"I'm your father and I won't put up with that kind of backtalk!" barked Dillinger.

"You're NOT my father!" snarled Keith.

"We just had a couple of army-types come by here, making up some stupid story about light-shows and aliens out in those woods!" shouted Dillinger. "You little punks trying to scare people around there or something!?"

"I have no idea what that's all about." said Keith, trying not to sound nervous.

"You little lying PUNK!" roared Dillinger. Before Mrs. Dillinger could react, Dillinger grabbed Keith, who managed to spin away, but in so doing, stumbled and fell across a table. His face hit the floor, there was an audible snap, and when he stood up, his nose was bleeding profusely.

"Keith!" cried Mrs. Dillinger. "Come on, let me take care of that. That looks serious!"

Keith was too angry and scared to even let his mother help him. "Just get AWAY from me!" he snapped, and bolted out the back door and was on his bicycle before either his mother or step-father could catch up to him. He heard both his mother and stepfather calling for him to come back, one pleadingly, the other angrily. But even through the pain of an obvious broken nose, Keith knew there was more to this than he could tell either one of them. And he wanted to give his stepfather a chance to calm down a bit, if such a thing was possible. At least so he wouldn't get really physically abusive.

Blinded now more by tears than pain, Keith rode through streets, alleys, and finally over the hills and fields to get to the woods and pond where his alien friends Jahv and Keyro lived, hidden away in a cloaked dome-tent that you had to know was there even to find it. Keith's nose had bled profusely, to the point where even his shirt was spattered, but it seemed to be letting up. It still hurt, and Keith was certain it was broken. But Jahv and Keyro had recently healed a nasty gash on Martin's leg after an incident at the mud pool. Healed it within a few minutes, for that matter. Hopefully a busted nose wouldn't be any greater a problem for them. And he had to warn them, as well.

Keith found the entrance to the dome-tent, and pulled the panel aside to enter. Jahv was busy at the cobbled-together but immensely-powerful computer that he had built from parts scraped together for him by Keith and several other neighborhood boys. Keyro was watching a video of "Howard the Duck" and was apparently finding it hysterical. So much for a higher order of intelligence in respect to entertainment.

Jahv turned to greet whoever was at the door. Only four people knew that this place was here, and it would be nearly impossible to find by accident. "Keith!" said Jahv happily, then he noticed the boy's condition. Blood smeared across his shirt down his face, and spattered on his jeans, and his nose was quite literally out of joint. "By the twin suns of the homeworld! What happened to you?!"

"You mean — WHO happened." said Keith. "Ah, hell, that's not entirely true. He grabbed me, I pulled away, fell over some furniture. Stupid on my part as much as anything."

Jahv cringed. He, too, was from an unpleasant home environment, which was why he and later Keyro had left. But it had never been this bad! He'd heard that Keith had a difficult time with his modified family, but this was the first real evidence of it he had seen. "Come over here. We can take care of that."

Keith walked over to the desk Jahv had indicated. The alien boy was already fishing around in his backpack.

"Is this gonna hurt?" asked Keith.

Jahv pulled out a device that looked like a small, square flashlight. "Not as much as it does right now, probably." He waved the device around Keith's nose, and a blue light shone from it. "Your nose is definitely broken. Before I can repair it, I'll have to get it back in place. This could hurt a bit." He reached up and adjusted Keith's nose. It stung like crazy, but Keith knew he needed to remain still.

"That's better." said Jahv. "Now, just stay put for another few moments." Jahv raised the device again. This time a green light came out of it. A few seconds later, Jahv turned the device off. "Good as new. Perhaps a bit stronger."

Keith gingerly touched his nose. It felt fine. "Thank you." he said.

"You can wash the blood off your face in the washroom in the back." said Jahv.

Keith looked down at his shirt. "Anything you can do about this?"

Jahv frowned, and shrugged. "Laundry's not exactly our specialty." Indeed, most of the time, he and Keyro wore nothing.

Keith sighed, but at least his nose was okay, and that was what was important. That, and warning his friends. "You guys might be in trouble out here. That's sort of what caused this." Keith explained what he'd overheard, while he washed his face, and was just finishing the brief tale when Davy came into the tent, looking alarmed. "We've got a problem. Keith! What happened to you?"

"My stepfather, some furniture, and my own clumsiness, in that order." said Keith grimly.

"Keith, I don't know your customs or laws, but really, this should be stopped." said Jahv.