Ten minutes later, Sam hurriedly packed his things and sped out of the library, eyes glued to his watch. He had twenty minutes to make it across campus for his final.

He picked up the pace and settled in a light jog, trepidation percolating through him. He put his legs on autopilot and let his thoughts drift back to the events of the past couple of hours. Win had curiously been fine, if still shaky from the tea experience. Sam couldn’t make sense of why Win had a less severe reaction. They’d compared notes, and the only theory Sam could derive was that he’d experienced a larger assortment of new sensations and information. It was like learning to swim. He’d unwittingly jumped into the deep end.

“Maybe I’m defective. Or my brain isn’t as big as yours and it can’t handle . . . whatever that was,” Sam reasoned as the two packed their bags.

Win let out a low laugh. “I don’t think that’s it. There are plenty of things you’re smarter than me about.” He scratched his head. “You could just be extra sensitive to the tea’s effects. But we’d have to discuss with Tar to understand.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “I guess. But as unusual and interesting as that was, I’m not sure I’m buying what Tar’s selling. There’s gotta be a catch to his spiel, right?”

Win picked up the empty teacup and twirled it around his finger. “Funny you should say that . . . because I’m considering taking the offer.”

Sam looked at Win, not bothering to hide the bewilderment from his expression. “Seriously? You’re okay with getting whisked away to who knows where?” He took a breath and adopted a calmer tone. “You’re the smartest person I know. And you’ve already been accepted to law school. Why give that up?”

Win’s eyebrows were drawn, but his eyes lit up with an unexpected fiery passion. “That’s exactly why I want to go. My path has been set since the day I was born. My grandparents remind me every day of the dreams my parents had for me. They’re the only family I have left, and I love them dearly, but I will never be able to live up to those types of expectations. I don’t want to abandon the idea of being a lawyer entirely, but I . . . need a break. The chance to try something different. Then I’ll know for sure.”

Sam sympathized. It wasn’t like he knew with certainty he wanted to be an accountant. It just seemed like the logical direction to take. Still, he felt compelled to make sure Win had thought this through fully. “Do we ever really know for sure? I thought you were excited for law school?”

Win rested his back against the wall. “I am. I was. But that was yesterday, before all this.” He gestured haphazardly with the mug, sending the last droplet onto the carpet. “I can’t say why exactly Tar picked me, but it came at the right time.”

“What about the rest of your life here? Ready to put all that on pause?” Sam had a dim sense of awareness that he was asking himself as much as he was Win, but he dismissed the thought as pointless.

Win shook his head in dismissal. “What life? All I’ve done is either study or tutor the past four years. There’s not much keeping me here.”

Sam winced, but he understood the sentiment behind Win’s words. Life had lost its . . . flavor lately, the little joys that counterbalanced the never-ending pressure. “Okay, I hear you. Last question then. What about the risks involved? Like entering into an agreement with a self-absorbed alien. Or the fact that space is pretty terrifying? It’s clear now that we have no idea what’s out there.”

Win tilted his head in thought. “Truth be told, that’s what interests me most. Figuring out what makes a being like Tar tick will be fascinating. Plus, the chance to be explorers, the ones who make discoveries and pave the way for everybody else.” His eyes blazed. “We’d be going where no one has gone before. I know that sounds corny, but so what? It’s a thrilling prospect.”

Sam checked the clock. Almost time to go. “Well, you’ve got me. I surrender. You’re braver than I am, and I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“You say that, but wouldn’t it be better if we both go? I need somebody to watch my back. You know at some point we’d get stuck on a derelict ship and be forced to outwit an alien trying to hunt us down. I don’t want to have to find an escape pod on my own, Sam.” Win gave him a lighthearted glare.

Sam laughed. To see the normally deadpan Win so enthusiastic almost made a dent in Sam’s resolve to eschew the alien’s offer. “You’re really selling it.” He sighed. “Putting aside my concerns about trusting Tar, the reality is that I can’t leave my family behind.”

“I know, I understand. But if your mother found out you were recruited by the Editor, from what I know about her, she’d be the first one to push you out the door.” Win raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point.

“Which is why I can’t tell her about this. Without me, everything would fall on Nadia, and I don’t want to do that to her.” No matter what else, Sam would always strive to be a good son. And brother. “So, while I wish I could make this leap with you, it’s not happening.”

#

Sam willed the conversation to the back of his head. He had more pressing issues to deal with right now.

He’d pulled open the nondescript door of the exam room, arriving with a minute to spare. But as he did so, his phone issued another insistent vibration. This time, a text from Nadia. He immediately grew concerned since she almost never texted him while at work.

The block of text covered the whole screen. I know I shouldn’t be texting you right now, but I’m seriously worried about Ma. Before I left for work, she was slurring her words and could barely move. I can’t get it out of my head that she’s in worse shape than normal. My boss said if I leave, he’ll fire me. Sam, I’m worried. What should we do?

Damn. Damn. Damn. If he left now, there was no guarantee the college would grant him a makeup test. What choice did he have really? His mother would be furious if he didn’t stay and complete the exam. But it’s not that easy, Ma. What good is passing a test if you need my help?

Sam buried the thought away, then braced himself and walked through the doorway. The professor looked up at him and glanced over at the clock, the message clear.

His legs kept him moving, and he dropped into the back corner desk, then buried his face in his hands and silently screamed every curse word he could think of.

#

Sam’s pen fell from his fingers with a clatter. He let out a soft groan. He’d barely scribbled answers to the last few questions. A tangled mess of guilt and dismay wormed its way through his body.

The other students packed up their things and shuffled over to the professor’s desk to drop off their tests. Sam stayed motionless in his chair and stared out the window. The room emptied. The professor coughed discreetly.

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” He pictured telling the professor what had happened, but no words came to mind. He hated the idea of making an excuse. He’d messed up, and only he could bear the blame. But why did he have to screw up now?

On his way to the bus stop, he labored to keep his emotions from boiling over. He needed to be fully present to handle whatever was waiting for him at home. Once he reached the motel apartment, he didn’t bother to knock and opened the door right away. The darkness inside parted, chased away by the fulgent late-morning light. When he saw the bed empty, adrenaline surged through him, and he strode through the bedroom and the small kitchenette. He rounded the corner to the bathroom the three of them shared.

The thin bathroom door was partially open, which didn’t make sense. It swung open if not completely closed, leading to a host of embarrassing moments that the family had long ago learned to laugh about.

Sam gently pushed against the door and felt resistance. He whispered, “Ma? Are you in there?”

No response.

His heart pumped wildly. He hastily wedged his hand in through the gap and groped for the light switch. The light flickered on, and the top of his mother’s head came into view, her hair scraggly and unwashed. She was bent forward, leaving the back of her neck exposed.

Time stopped.

His mother moaned.

Oh, thank God. The tears that had been threatening Sam now became ones of relief. He knelt and hugged his mother’s shoulders from behind. “Ma! Are you okay? What are you doing here like this?”

She grabbed his arm with a clammy, shaky hand. “Sam. I had a dizzy spell and had to sit down.”

“A dizzy spell. That’s new. How long ago? You’re supposed to keep your phone with you wherever you go. Nadia texted me saying she couldn’t get a hold of you after she left for work.” He unsuccessfully attempted to iron out the worry and frustration from his voice.

His mother matched his tone with one of weary exasperation. “I don’t know. I dropped it. I needed to nap for a bit. Why did your sister text you? What if you saw it while you took your test? She knows better.”

Sam let her go, and she shifted away from the door, allowing Sam to step in. He helped her stand up and amble over to her bed. He fluffed her pillows and held her hand as she eased her way in. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

Sam sighed. “She was just concerned. Don’t worry about it.”

His mother closed her eyes. “So the test went well?”

“Yeah, it went super. Look, I need to get back to campus.” He picked up her phone from the floor and placed it on her nightstand. “Your phone is right here. Don’t forget it again. There’s soup in the fridge and bread on the counter for dinner. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Okay, son. Thanks for coming to help me but remember what I said. Your priority should be yourself.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “Of course, Ma. See you later.”

He practically jogged for the exit, and as soon as he’d closed the door as quietly as possible, he moved to the side, then sank against the wall. The staccato bumps of the stucco jabbed into his back.

His heart still pounded at the thought of his mother’s hunched body. What should he do? What could he do? Break into the professor’s office and fix his test? Buy a lottery ticket? Go on national television and beg for help?

Powerless. Helpless. The words swirled around his mind, dancing alongside failure.

A fourth word joined the fray: tea. Sam did have another option. And everything he’d told Win that morning had now gone out the window.

#

Sam swiped his bus pass to board the bus heading downtown. He grabbed the nearest strap to hold. Normally he liked to marvel at the quietness of the downtown bus’s engine, fueled by highly efficient photovoltaic technology provided by who else but Tar. Now though, he remained wholly fixated on questioning the decision he was about to make.

Can I really go through with this? His thinking went in circles and circles.

He pulled out his phone to text. Win, I’m going to the new store downtown. Wanna meet me there?

The response came back right away. Are you sure? Is everything ok?

Sam typed out an answer saying he was fine but deleted it. What good would that do? He instead wrote, No, not really.

This time a minute went by before Win answered. Okay. I’ll head over.

Thirty minutes later and Sam gazed upon a glass storefront, covering his eyes from the neon strobe lights and flashing signs. The same Tar who wore snakeskin boots had clearly made his mark here as well.

Somebody poked him in the back: Win, his face a mask of concern. Behind him stood another familiar figure. Nadia. She wore her usual waitress uniform of slacks and a polo shirt with the restaurant logo, her hair wrapped in a bun. Her hazel brown eyes held their usual irrepressible energy.

“Nadia! What are you doing here? How did you get out of work? Also . . .” Realization dawned on him. He pivoted to Win and narrowed his eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

Win had the nerve to look embarrassed. “I should have told you this already, but a couple months ago, I was eating breakfast at the corner diner and your sister was my server. I recognized her and we talked.”

“You talked . . .”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be weird, Sam. We usually just talk about you.”

“You talk about me? What is there to talk about?” Sam responded, eyebrows lifted.

Nadia put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know, maybe that you’re a melodramatic crazy person who decides to roll up to the Xarlogic store in the middle of a Tuesday.”

“Crazy person—” Sam started to say, his ears burning. His sister always knew how to push his buttons.

Nadia cut him off. “Don’t worry. Since it was the second time today I told my boss my family was having a crisis, he gave up and told me I could go. I’ll have to work a double shift this weekend, but it’s not every day your older brother has a meltdown.”

“What the hell, Nadia. I’m not having a meltdown.” His anger and anxiety crystalized into one. “Part of the reason I’m here is the text you sent me this morning. I couldn’t concentrate during my final, and I’m pretty sure I failed.”

Win’s shoulders dropped. Sam’s anger retreated, replaced by guilt. He and Win had worked hard to prepare for that particular test. The tutor would take the news hard.

Nadia bit her lip. “Oh. I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just . . . had this feeling, you know?” Her voice cracked.

Any residual anger deflated like a popped balloon. Sam reached out to pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You were right to be worried. I found her sleeping in the bathroom. It wasn’t . . . great. I’m not sure . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m starting to think she doesn’t have much longer unless we get her serious treatment. That’s the real reason I came.”

“What do you—?” Music blared from the storefront, drowning out Nadia’s question. A carpet rolled itself through the entrance and landed at their feet, accompanied by a plume of white smoke. From the den of noise and light emerged the tall, graceful figure of Editor Tar. In the flesh.

A sharp intake of breath from Nadia. Despite having interacted with Tar just that morning, Sam began to quiver in nervous excitement. Here he was, meeting a real-life, full-fledged alien. He now belonged to an illustrious group of humans, made up of world leaders and heads of conglomerates.

Tar had embellished his appearance, as usual. He wore a vibrant multicolor overcoat, and his black lips glistened with oil-like slickness. Light reflected off the gold dust covering his skin. The effect was disconcerting, as if Tar had stepped off the set of a glamorous photoshoot. Yet, his smile exuded warmth, bolstered by the humanlike quality of the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Welcome, my baby birds. How fortunate to have you here, only hours after we met.” Tar swept his hand toward them, bejeweled rings jangling. “Please, come with me. We’ll use the back entrance.”

A small crowd had formed, and soon enough a flash went off. Sam considered making a run for it, but neither Nadia nor Win hesitated before moving in Tar’s direction. He said a silent supplication to the sky and followed.

#

A solid slab of a metal door gave way to a barely lit hallway. Dim sconces lined gray brick walls. The sharp contrast dazed Sam.

His eyesight adjusted, and a yellow glow fused into place at the end of the hall, beckoning them. The light came from a blank-walled conference room, possessing only a wafer-thin glass desk surrounded by scoop-shaped chairs.

“Take a seat, please.” Tar folded himself into a chair in a single movement.

Sam clutched the slippery sides of the strange chair and maneuvered to match Tar’s fluidity. He lost his grip and fell in with a plop. Seeing his failure, Nadia and Win managed to avoid the same embarrassment.

Tar’s welcoming smile remained unfazed. “Well, well. What a welcome surprise. Mr. Suparat, you’ve made your decision quickly. And you’ve brought your friend. Mr. Azza, is it? Sam, yes? That makes you the sister, Nadia.”

Sam blinked, dazed by the alien’s familiarity. Should he be flattered or troubled that Tar knew their names? He settled for both.

Tar’s gaze swept over the three of them. The alien lingered for an extra second on Sam, and he repressed a shiver. From the moment Tar made his appearance, Sam had felt discombobulated. He searched for the right words to at least respond and introduce himself, but his mind spat out an unintelligible mess.

His sister answered instead, uneasily clutching her hands. Any sign of nerves from Nadia was rare, so Sam took some comfort that he wasn’t the only one feeling out of their element. “That’s right, Mr., uh, Editor. Can I ask how you know who we are already?”

Tar turned to her and let his smile widen. “Editor or Tar will do. Let’s just say I have access to some very useful sources of information. Your government saw fit to ensure I have everything I need at my fingertips. I must applaud their thoughtfulness.”

Sam’s unease deepened. Outwardly, Tar sought to put them at ease by demonstrating the level of trust he’d earned. But his words came with an underlying message: he knows everything.

Tar spread his hands outward, palms up, as if to indicate that he’d said all he could on the topic. The gesture showed that he’d dispensed with the gloves he normally wore in public. His fingers were long and angular, but in place of a human’s flat fingertips, his ended in small sharp claws. Sam recoiled before he could stop himself.

Tar spotted Sam’s reaction and chuckled. “Wearing gloves during your summers is not practical, so please forgive the sight of my bare hands. I’ve kept them hidden so as not to frighten the children.”

He made the last remark with a hint of causticness, prompting Sam to wonder what a young Xarlogic looked like. He pictured toddlers waving talons about, scratching walls and breaking crayons, and then shook his head in dismay. That would be a nightmare. “Oh. I understand. So about why we’re here . . . it’s because . . .” Dang it. He’d practiced this.

Tar waited a beat before he gave him a patient smile. “I assume it’s to sign up, yes? Did your glimpse into a new world enthrall you? Don’t worry, you can take the entrance exam right here in the store. No need to go up to space just yet.” He ended with a knowing wink, which he might have meant innocently but instead underscored the seriousness of what he’d said.

Of course. Space. All of this would culminate in my leaving Earth. The mixture of panic and desperation Sam had been running on for the past few hours chose that moment to leave his body. He sank down into his chair. I need a second. Anything.

Thankfully Win raised his hand, rescuing him. Sam shot him an appreciative glance.

“Before we proceed, we’d like to know what exactly your role is? Who will you be to us?”

Tar excitedly clapped his hands. “Oh, good question. I’m honored to serve as your lanista. That’s a bit of Xarlogic for you.” He paused and studied them, as if waiting for a reaction. When none came, he continued, “In this context, it means head of the academy, so to speak. I’ll run the training program, but I will bring in assistance for your day-to-day instruction. We’ll have great fun.”

“That’s . . . good to hear.” Win’s tone betrayed some uncertainty. “And once we’ve been trained?”

For the first time, Tar’s cheerful expression faltered, if only briefly. “The terms will be described in your employment contract, which I will share with you after you pass the exam. I’ve reviewed human contract law. I don’t think you’ll find anything in the contract that won’t be unfamiliar, but we can certainly discuss further.”

Win placed his elbow on the table and stroked his chin; his patented “I mean business” look that Sam knew all too well. “Right. I’m interested but I need some guarantees. I have obligations, such as that my tutoring students depend on me. Also, my grandparents would not accept if I left before finishing my final semester’s classes. Are there any workarounds?”

The alien’s half-lidded eyes creased in sympathy. “I understand. We all aspire to be dutiful children, in recognition of our forebears who have given us so much. You’ll be happy to know that we’ll employ an intersystem connection, allowing all of you to remain in touch with your loved ones. Win, that means you can finish your classes and continue with your tutoring. Though be aware that balancing these tasks will require serious dedication.”

Win nodded in affirmation. “I can handle the pressure.”

“As I would expect. Such intelligence, insightfulness, and appetite to learn. I can see why my algorithms spotted you.”

Win blinked and even turned a bit pink, which amused Sam. It was a rare sight to see him taken aback.

Tar turned to look at Sam and shook his head. “But speaking of responsibilities, what about you, my friend? A sick mother who needs you, a career in the fine art of accounting awaits you, and not to mention a younger sister who doubtlessly looks up to you.” He winked at Nadia surreptitiously.

Nadia made a noise of disgust and muttered, “Please. He wishes.”

Sam had mostly recovered from his earlier bout of anxiety and internally asserted his desire to make a better first impression. “Those are the reasons I’m here. I have to support my family.”

Tar tilted his head and studied him. “Will that be enough? You will encounter trials unlike you’ve ever experienced before. You can’t fight to not lose. If you truly want to win, you’ll need to take chances, go beyond your limits. You must crave victory above all else.”

The alien’s words crested against Sam like a wave of acid, inflaming the bitterness that fermented inside him. These past months, he’d lost touch with the mindset Tar described, that of a champion. A sense of loss over having lost an essential part of himself burned in his lungs. He missed his coach, who had been relentless in pushing Sam to practice self-improvement.

Did Tar seek to fill that void? Tar’s eyes bore into him. Sam recognized the danger inherent to that thought but still badly wanted to demonstrate his conviction. For some reason, the alien held him to a higher standard.

He summoned as much resolve as he could. “I’m looking for a chance. If you provide that to me, you won’t regret it.”

Tar searched his face for a few silent long seconds. “All right. I believe you. Remember though, there is no faltering where we will be going. I will be the one to pay for your shortcomings, and I do not collect debts. Do not forget that.”

A shard of glass poked the inside of Sam’s throat as he swallowed. “I understand.”

“Still, that doesn’t solve the problem in front of us. I can’t let you join if you’re going to spend your time anxiously worrying about your family. What do you propose?”

This was Sam’s opening. He mentally recalled the list of talking points he’d prepared and opened his mouth, ready to assert himself.

However, before he could do so, Nadia leaned forward in her chair. “Editor, can I interrupt? I already have the solution. I’d also like to sign up. In exchange, you’re going to cure our mother. But first, can you explain what you did to persuade Win and Sam to come here? I know my brother, and something has clearly got him interested. I’d like to know what it is.”