"Here it is!" Max shifted the journal toward Liz. "There's the description of the artifact."

Liz began to read. "Paul and I have finally finished interviewing the elderly storytellers from the Hopi, Zuni, and Navajo tribes. The oral history they retain is remarkable. What is most exciting is that their descriptions of this 'sacred halo' are almost identical. Each tribe has stories about the 'visitors,' but one of the common elements is a shiny headpiece of some kind. As best we can tell, there was an escalating conflict among the visitors, and the 'first ones,' presumably the first of the Voyans, who respected the Anasazi and did their best to blend into their culture, hid the headpiece--perhaps a visor--and when the later arrivals could not find it, they started a bidding war. They offered technology to the more greedy and ambitious of the Anasazi population in exchange for information about where such an item might be found. Their searches became more and more blatant and destructive, until the Anasazi lost hope of maintaining their lives in Colorado and began to move into Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona.

"The 'halo' is described as a shiny headdress with eyes of a monster and stars shining out from its rim. The best we can make of that is that this was a visor that fit down over the head, probably covered the eyes with lenses of some kind, and had twinkling lights around it. We assume that its function was communication and/or information storage, like a small virtual reality computer. We think it must still be in Mesa Verde at the Cliff Palace, judging from the description of the haste with which it had to be hidden. There was probably no time to take it very far."

Liz looked up at Max. "Well, at least we know what we're looking for now."

Max nodded. So many different emotions were battling for his attention: excitement at the possibility of finding more answers about his past--correction, their past; nervousness at telling the others that he and Liz had to do this alone; fear that this might somehow hurt Liz, something he knew he would give his life to prevent; and love, always love for this brave, beautiful girl who was facing this with him. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Any clues as to where we begin? I mean, more specific than the Cliff Palace?"

"Let's keep looking," urged Liz.

Jeff Parker looked in the rearview mirror at the two faces studying his mother's journals. All these years of living with his secret, and now he was terrified he would sacrifice his daughter to it. He had never used any of his powers; he didn't even know if he still could. And Nancy. How would she react if she knew? He felt her out on it one time on a star-gazing campout. He'd asked her if she thought there could be other life out there. She'd said something about maybe at the cellular level or something. She clearly did not embrace the idea that intelligent life existed elsewhere in the universe, let alone in her bed.

Now he was faced with perpetuating a lie, participating in the sham of a hallucinatory school trip, sending his daughter to another state virtually unchaperoned with her boyfriend, and convincing unsuspecting friends in Colorado to help out. All because his dead mother said so. It was ludicrous. Nothing could be more absurd. He laughed.

"What's so funny, Dad?" asked Liz.

"Nothing." How could he even say such a thing out loud?

They pulled into Roswell in the late afternoon. Could it really have been only a couple of days since they left to see Greg Austin? It may as well have been a lifetime ago. They dropped Max off at home, agreeing to meet with the others that evening at the quarry to explain what was happening and what he and Liz needed to do. Liz raised her face to Max and kissed him lightly. It was becoming harder and harder to be apart. It wasn't just the way Liz always felt when she left Max--empty and aching. This was more pressing, more urgent. It was as if she were fighting a strong pull when she left his side, like prying two magnets apart. This was a new sensation. She didn't understand it. Was this a good feeling? A sign of their love growing stronger? Or was it something dangerous?

************

The quarry had become the open-air safe house for the gang's most private conversations. It would be almost impossible for anyone to hear them talking or to get close to them without being seen. It seemed the best place for Max and Liz to describe the details of their trip to their friends.

"So, what's the big news?" asked Maria. She hated when someone had a secret, and she was anxious to have it revealed.

Liz glanced at Max. "You start," she said nervously.

Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Give, Maxwell," ordered Michael impatiently. "You got us all out here. What's so important?"

"It turns out that Liz's grandmother left us her journals. Although her published book was about the Navajo, that was just a sidelight compared to what she learned about the Anasazi."

"This is what you wanted to tell us? You're giving us a history lesson on people that don't even exist anymore?" Michael erupted. "I thought this had something to do with us--our past."

"It does, Michael," Max explained, a certain note of condescension in his voice. "We learned that our people, Voyans, actually made contact with the Anasazi almost 1000 years ago. They actually blended the two cultures to a certain extent, the Voyans giving the Anasazi a little leg up in the technology department, but pretty much just learning to live as the Native Americans did."

"Max," cried Isabel. "Are you saying that there have been descendants of a hybrid race for centuries?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Max. "And what's really incredible is . . . Liz is one of them."