First thing Tuesday morning, I was standing in our outpost square surrounded by a small throng of equally nervous miners. I had washed my face and brushed my hair, put my drover's coat into storage, taken it back out, put it in, finally taken it out and laid it over one arm. Juana was clutching a big sack full of messages to send from miners who hadn’t gotten a pass. She and her mother stood together, with her sister Rosa. Rosa wasn’t going back to Earth. Her eyes were red and she had a forced smile as she spoke to her mother.

My revolver was in my gun belt on my waist. We might be going to Southern California where things like open carrying a revolver are slightly frowned on, but after a year of having it in my hand at any time, I didn't want to be away from it. I had asked Grandpa, and he seemed to think it would work out all right.

Sage was wearing her rodeo blouse. Her hair was clean and braided. She had on her very best jeans and the pink cowgirl hat I had bought her for her birthday months ago. She was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "This is so cool, this is so cool," she breathed. "I can't believe this is happening to me!"

I blinked, and we were standing on a beach. Breakers rolled in, sending white surf sloshing up the beach. The sky overhead was blue and cloudless. It was hot, uncomfortably warm, and the nearest three hundred people on the beach were all scrambling to their feet, grabbing at their possessions, pointing, and shrieking.

We didn't look that weird. Sage was a little overdressed for the beach. I was wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon duck on it, had a heavy coat slung over my arm concealing the pistol in my gun belt, and was still wearing my hat and combat boots under my BDUs. Grandpa had his hunting camo on, but nothing weird.

Everybody here was wearing t-shirts or swimsuits. We were supposed to be in Southern California. I turned, and behind us, a range of hills rose up from the water. Atop some of them were enormous mansions sparkling under the sun. "Okay," I said aloud, "we're definitely in the right place."

The nearest few beachgoers had recovered enough to pull out their phones and start recording. A couple of them approached us.

“So what just happened?" one woman asked.

"No, let me guess," the friend with her said, "the way you just appeared out of nowhere. Are you some of the alien kidnap victims? Have they sent you home?" She let out a squeal. "Oh, they have!" She turned around and held up her picture for a selfie. "This is going on right away all over social media. Hashtag they're back!"

"Let's get out of here," I said and started slogging up the beach toward a set of wooden steps leading to a boardwalk.

The crowd followed. People jumped in front of me holding cell phones demanding pictures. I heard someone yell, “It’s the hometown heroes!”

My hand itched. I wanted to draw my gun. I kept telling myself there were no enemies here. These were ordinary humans. They were excited to see us.

Sirens split the air. "Be careful," Grandpa warned as we climbed up the steps. I stepped out onto the boardwalk first. I found myself face to face with half a dozen of LA's finest. They were pointing their shotguns and rifles at me. Off to the side, a woman blared through a bullhorn, "Stop right there! Hands where we can see them!"

Sage started to take a step forward. "You can't! Don't you know who we are?" she demanded.

Grandpa put a hand on her shoulder. "Hold on, honey," he said. "Might take us a minute or two to get this sorted out, but let's not cause a scene."

I raised my hands and let the cops surround us.

Two of them approached me. They kept their rifles carefully raised. “Sorry, sir. We know who you are, we’re trying to get you out of here without causing a scene,” one told me. His badge read “Officer Gonzales”. I nodded my thanks and put my hands down.

At last they got us separated from the crowd of selfie-happy beachgoers. The cops put us in a little huddle between two of their squad cars while they made some calls. A couple of minutes later, Gonzales popped out and said, "I'm terribly sorry about that. We just had to let some people know you’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder, where his fellow cops had set up a cordon, keeping the throng back. The crowd waved and screamed at us. At least they sounded as though they liked us. Gonzalez cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. My third cousin had a friend who got abducted. Don't suppose you met Albert Rodriguez?"

I shook my head. "Don't think so," I said.

"Well, neither did I, but now I know his name. Everyone on earth knows someone or knows of someone who was taken. It's just... we didn't really expect we'd ever see you back again. So, uh, can we get you a coffee while we wait?”

"I don't think that's going to be necessary," Grandpa said quietly as a black SUV pulled up right behind the squad cars.

The back doors opened, and a pair of men got out. They were clearly government agents. They had crew cuts, sunglasses, and were wearing three-piece suits. One of them approached us. He stopped about three feet away.

"Major Twofeather?"

"Yep," Grandpa said. "That's me."

"If you'll come with us, sir, we can get this all sorted out."

Grandpa held his ground. "You listen here," he said in a low voice. "Me and my grandson and granddaughter, we've been jerked around for the last year by people much more powerful than the United States government. We've been given three days back here to do what we like. And what my little girl here wants," he put his hand on Sage's shoulder, "is to go ride a few roller coasters, meet a wizard, and see some sort of B-pop band perform."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"It's K-pop, Grandpa," I supplied.

"Whatever," he turned back to the agents. "So if you're gonna help us with that, then..."

"Yes, sir," the government agent said. "We have orders to extend you every courtesy." He turned to the other agent. "Smith, you heard the requests. Get on 'em now."

"I know two Smiths already," Sage said brightly. "They work with Colonel Ames. Do you work with Colonel Ames, too?"

Government agent Smith, who had started back for the car, turned. He regarded us through his sunglasses. "Yes," he said. "I do." Then he disappeared around the side of the car.

They made room for us in the big SUV. The talkative agent, who introduced himself as Wyant Ellermann, which I figured was definitely not a pseudonym, leaned back and spoke to Grandpa. "Colonel Ames got us word two days ago, so we've all had a little bit of time to prepare. Hopefully, most of your friends will be getting a slightly better welcome than what you got there from LAPD's finest." I don't think they were listening very well. "We've got plenty of people on standby all over, watching for trouble, trying to make sure of it."

"Most of them will only be here for eight hours," Grandpa said. "It's only a few of us who have the 72-hour pass.”

“And we're going to make use of it," Agent Ellermann said.

Sage's lips started to quiver. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I don't get to see Orange Dream?"

The agent quickly removed his sunglasses and leaned toward Sage. He started to attempt a friendly pat of her hand, then withdrew his hand as though reconsidering. "No, Ms. Williams, you will most certainly get to see Orange Dream. In fact, we're arranging for a backstage pass for you right now."

Sage squealed. I closed my eyes and groaned.

What Ellermann apparently did mean was that while we were shepherded around Southern California doing whatever Sage's heart could dream up, we were also receiving multiple clandestine phone calls and surreptitious visits.

The first of which, on speaker, was from a staffer at the Joint Chief of Staffs letting Grandpa know that he had been promoted to full colonel, skipping right over lieutenant colonel in the process. "Oh, hey," I said. "You got a promotion for Colonel Ames, too? Is he gonna be a general?"

Agent Ellermann shook his head. "Colonel Ames has been very clear that he does not wish to receive any more attention than he already has. Technically, Colonel Twofeather now outranks him.”

“As it should be,” Grandpa said, nodding. He looked more smug than ever as Government Issue Smith handed him a box with a colonel’s eagle insignia.

“Ames requested Smith and me particularly to come out to LA to handle you. The other American members of your team will be receiving a much more hands-off approach. I can't speak for many of the other nations of the world, but I know that our closest allies have all agreed that we had better do what we can to make your trip pleasant, and not try to interfere with things — up there. That said," he closed his eyes as though in pain, then opened them, "I'm afraid you have a medal presentation ceremony tomorrow afternoon. I had to pull quite a few strings to make that clear that you will not be flying to Washington. Instead, the Vice President will be coming here to present you your awards. It's probably going to be televised."

"Wonderful," I said, leaning back. "Just what I need." Then I had a thought. "Oh, a friend of mine, Juana Lopez, she's here on a 72-hour pass. Not here in LA. She's in a little town near San Antonio with her mom, but her mom's only got eight hours. So after that, if you think you could arrange for her to come out here..."

Ellermann pulled up a tablet and scrolled through a list. "Juana Lopez. We've got her address of record. We can get her here in…” He glanced at his watch, clearly did a little calculation. "Call it ten hours from now? I'll see to it that she has a government jet waiting for her at the airport. Give me a minute to arrange car transport to and from.”

I sat back, blinking. It was hard to take in, but we were hot stuff. I glanced at the clock on the SUV. It was currently just after 9 a.m. My stomach rumbled. I licked my lips and thought of something. According to the agenda Ellermann was throwing together, we were on our way to one of Southern California's finest amusement parks right now.

I leaned forward and spoke to the driver. "Hey, if it's not too much trouble, could we swing by a taco truck and get a breakfast burrito? I'm really craving some actual chicken eggs." I licked my lips at the thought. It had been over a year since I'd had a good egg. The Reality Engine was pretty clever at coming up with a lot of things, but its eggs left something to be desired.

Sage rode every roller coaster in the park twice. She got her face painted by a sad teenager wearing a cartoon mascot costume. She ate cotton candy, snow cones, an enormous pretzel dripping with mustard, a hot dog longer than her arm, all before two o’clock. She bought eight t-shirts, a pair of cat ears, and then on top of the largest coaster yet, vomited up all of the junk food she had been eating.

I narrowly avoided getting splashed. Grandpa had pulled rank on me and refused to go on any of the coasters, preferring to wait at the bottom. Since we had been given VIP badges and ribbons, we didn't have to wait in any of the lines.

I had been half worried, as they were making their calls, that they were going to empty out the park, but for us that would have seemed sad and hollow. Instead, Sage was getting to have a day like she was an ordinary earth kid.

More like she was one of those ordinary earth kids who has cancer and gets a wish granted for them by a charity.Still, she seemed to be having a great time.

I was feeling awkward about the whole thing as our escort led us to the head of the line at the first coaster. A couple of the riders we bumped past complained — then someone took another look and shouted. “It’s Shad and Sage! Holy fuck, they’re here!”

The whole line cheered, as our handlers hushed things up. Sage and I glanced at each other, shrugged, and waved to the crowd. After that I felt a lot easier about the whole thing. We rode the coaster twice, then some whirling teacups and then bumper cars.

I tried my best to give off whoops and hollers at the right places, but the fact was, this all felt hollow. I watched the crowds hurrying around us, kids out having fun with their families, couples strolling arm-in-arm, listened to the screams of delight, and I realized nothing about this felt real.

Adrenaline from thrill rides wasn't anything like having your life at risk or your freedom. These people here were out having fun. They didn't even care that the fate of our whole solar system was being played out half a million miles away in the orbit of Jupiter. Hell, most of them probably couldn't have told you that Ganymede was a moon of Jupiter.

I watched them stroll past, unconcerned, and I found myself hating them. I fell back as Sage ran ahead to a booth offering to let you throw darts at balloons and win a prize.

Grandpa put a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, Shad," he said quietly.

"It's just..." I shook my head. “I thought the stuff the reality engine made up was fake. This is way worse."

"I know what you mean, but try to have fun for your sister's sake, alright?"

I took a deep breath and glanced at the time. "Think she'll be ready to leave? I was hoping that we could find whatever hotel the G-men have booked for us and relax a bit before Juana gets here."

"I think she'll be ready to go," Grandpa said. "I'll have a word with her, shall I?"