If Andie's previous Wormholing experience could be described as terrifying, Wormholing into the War Room resembled something more akin to "death by burning for all eternity." Like before, she endured the usual sensation of falling, losing all contact with her body, then being rudely reminded she possessed a body at all when it became squashed into two-dimensions by an insidious gravitational force and roasted over a hotbed of neutron stars on the verge of supernova. But this time when she reformed, thousands of volts of electricity coursed through her already battered existence.

If she could've located her mouth, and vocal cords, she would've screamed.

When she finally materialized, it was inside a glass sphere filled with the stench of burnt sulfur. Andie's body floated in the center, while lightning bolts of blue Neuronic energy flowed from her core and back again.

She screamed, her vocal cords now fully functional.

The electricity portion of the festivities must have been part of the security system Ernest had mentioned—there to validate her blue energy 'signature." Because only Amu royals had Neuronic energy, the system would not see Andie as an invader. If she failed the validation "test," she would be vaporized or fed to ravenous space korks, although she doubted such things existed. Ernest might've been kidding. Although, the question was, do Zuts joke?

Speaking of space korks, lined up in the cavernous circular War Room, were arched rows of desks covered with levers and dials and screens and lights—like what a control board in a recording studio might look in a couple of hundred years. Dozens of Amu technicians manning the controls spun on the ergonomically correct chairs (she had ordered for the company!) to see what was going on. On the bright side, no one pointed anything lethal at her.

Finally, the sphere vanished. Blue electricity shot throughout the massive room, and she dropped so hard, she dented the cold metallic floor ... with her bare ass.

Ouch. Andie rubbed her tailbone and sucked great gulps of air into her burned-out lungs.

Goosebumps covered every inch of Andie's naked flesh. Goddammit. She had hoped that with the blue energy version of Wormholing (as opposed to the microchip/shower cap/red wine version), she would arrive clothed. She had even tried to visualize herself arriving at her destination fully dressed.

But she was alive. She'd passed the security clearance test. Breathing hard, Andie dragged herself to a squat. Her head was cold. She patted her scalp, and to her horror, discovered that her long brown wavy locks had turned into crunchy burnt hair, which explained the burnt sulfur odor. Charred clumps fell onto the gleaming metallic floor. Andie forced back tears. She did not have the luxury of crying over lost hair, even though it had been her only decent feature. What she needed to focus on was getting to the Priority One, but she did not know what it looked like. Ernest only shook his bald head when she asked and explained to her that the Zuts could not see it because they were merely mutants. This mutant talk had to stop.

So far, the Amu hadn't moved. Perhaps they thought she belonged there. If she located the Priority One before they realized who she was, she could be on her way to the mother-ship and to Sterling. But she had to move fast. Surveying the room, she hoped to find something that looked like alien transport. But in the alien world, it could probably be anything—a toaster, a houseplant, an invisible door—which would actually be pretty cool.

On the walls, 360 degrees around the room, were gigantic screens alternating images of world maps, maps of Los Angeles, and red lines with arrows exploding out from one location to another.

On other monitors were Hollywood celebrities—Kim Kardashian, Kanye West, Chris Pine, Jennifer Lawrence, Chris Hemsworth, and dozens more. Some screens displayed muted episodes of the show Andie had seen at Oliver's house—As the Earth Turns.

A cornucopia-shaped wormlike object undulated beneath the 50-foot ceiling on the far side of the room. Blue electricity crackled inside its maw. If Jabba the Hut and the Planet Eater in the Doomsday Machine episode of Star Trek had a child, this was what it would look like. Andie wanted to be as far away from it as possible, but she was pretty sure it was the Priority One. Mostly because the words "Priority One" were carved into its segmented hide. She swallowed hard, then took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Sure, it had now rearranged itself so it aimed the opening at her. And yeah, it made a loud smacking sound. But that didn't mean it planned on eating her.

Right?

She either had to Wormhole out of the War Room or make a dash for the mouth of the "planet eater." But there was really no choice; she had to get to the ship.

Andie tried to stand, but her leg muscles locked. Even though her brain had decided she should run, her body wasn't so sure. She gritted her teeth to try again. Before she could convince her muscles to cooperate, ten bursts of smog-colored smoke materialized in a circle around her. From the smoke emerged ten supermodel guards, wearing skimpy straps of leather and shiny stilettoed thigh-high black boots. Being next to the six-foot tall, long-legged, perfectly proportioned objects of female perfection made Andie even more aware of her nudity. The glamazons glared down at her. Painful sparks of blue electricity seeped from Andie's fingertips, as if someone were shoving needles under her nails.

One guard grabbed Andie's shoulders and lifted her to her feet, shaking her like a rag doll. Andie's teeth chattered and her skull maybe also chattered. "Hey, cut it out."

"What are you doing here?" bellowed a supermodel. Andie recognized her as the glamazon Oliver had summoned to his office the day Talia tried to blast Andie into oblivion. The one who looked like the "after" picture in an Andie Bank makeover. The one who had winked at Talia like they were best friends and scowled at Andie, as if she was space scum. Ixis was her name.

Some Amu working in the front of the room stood to get a better view of the unfolding drama.

Ixis whirled on them. "Get back to work!"

The Amu spun their chairs in unison and returned to their tasks, presumably helping advance a large-scale invasion of earth. Using television? And celebrities?

"What are you really doing on earth? What's going on?"

Ixis lifted a perfect eyebrow. "You tell me what is going on."

"I asked first," said Andie, still dangling, her feet and hands prickling. "Put me down!" She kicked out at Ixis but the guard easily stepped out of the way.

"I have the gun." Ixis wiggled something menacingly, not a Cannon, but something like a prop from a B movie.

Andie twisted so hard, her captor lost her grip. For the second time, Andie crumpled to the floor. But this time, she sprang up, folded her arms across her breasts, and pasted on her most intimidating accounting scowl. She knew it must seem funny to afford a look of confidence and superiority while naked and a good six inches shorter than the super-scoundrels, but hey, she had to try. Perhaps she might fashion an article of clothing out of something in the room, but everything was smooth, metallic and bolted down. "Yeah, I see you have the gun, Ixis." Ixis frowned, seemingly surprised Andie knew her name. Andie smiled at her tiny victory. "But I need to get to the Starship Magnificent right away. Confidential accounting business."

Ixis chuckled. "I do not think you will be going to the ship. At least not in one piece." She had a smirk that convinced Andie that, given the chance, she would like to make Andie suffer a little before killing her.

The blue light from Andie's fingers sparked. Ixis took a step back. Luckily, Ixis had no clue that Andie had about as much control over the Neuronic abracadabra as she had over the weather. She displayed her sparking hand. "That's right. I have full security clearance. So if you'll be so kind as to step aside, I'll hop over to the Priority One and be out of your thick, lustrous hair." Why had she said this? She really had to get over the demise of her own tresses.

"You may have the correct electronic signature," said Ixis, "but you are not on the Priority One manifest. And, we need at least thirty-minutes advance notice. So, I'm afraid it is not possible. Also, I will have to contact the Commander to confirm your status." From Ixis's rude smile, Andie could tell Ixis hadn't believed a word Andie said. Too bad the alien supermodel guard had half a brain.

"The Commander? You mean Oliver?" Andie said.

"No. So you claim to have supreme security clearance, and you do not even know who is in charge?"

"Cyra?" Andie guessed.

"Oh," Ixis chuckled, "you do know who runs things. But I cannot contact Cyra, as she has been recently transmogrified. I will need to speak to Emerson, the Commander of the ship and Cyra's husband. However, everyone is currently engaged on the ship: I too am on my way there for the big event, so it may take a while before we can clear you. In addition, now you have made me late!"

Andie wanted to ask what transmogrified meant, but could not risk sounding any more uninformed than she was. "Oliver can clear me," Andie said as authoritatively as she could while shivering like vanilla custard in a hurricane.

Ixis and her bevy of bitches laughed again. So nice to entertain the troops. Spreading the joy.

"Ah. Mr. Oliver Lieder is occupied at the moment and will be for some time." Andie did not appreciate Ixis's knowing smile. What did that mean, "occupied?" Andie's stomach clenched as she imagined Talia "occupying" Oliver's mouth.

"Eww. Please, not that," Bad Andie croaked.

"For once, we agree," Andie said.

Bad Andie provided an image of Talia as Jabba the Hut's prom date, complete with atrocious hair, ugly yellow ruffled dress, and bulbous, wrinkly escort with a giant lolling tongue. Andie couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Jabba.

"Nice one," said Andie.

"Thanks. Now let's get out of here," Bad Andie suggested.

Ixis took a step out of the supermodel circle. Apparently she'd been talking while Andie conversed with her bad self. "... while I would love to see to you personally, I will have to leave you to my coworkers. Rawenia, give Miss Bank a quick stun with your gun and put her somewhere out of the way where no one will trip over her body. We have safety standards, you know." Ixis laughed.

Andie stomped her foot. Safety was not a laughing matter, and the memo she had sent out in her first week regarding OSHA was important, not comical. Aliens simply did not comprehend the gravity of safety in the workplace. Or anyplace. Everything about them was unsafe. It was a miracle any of them survived in a world filled with faster-than-light interstellar transport, ray guns, carnivorous plants, and lax accounting controls.

"I'll return from the Joining before she wakes up," Ixis said, positioning herself beneath the worm-shaped horror. As she approached, its maw glowed red. "Berflat, engage Priority One." One of the Amu technicians nodded, flipped a bunch of switches and placed his palm over some sort of silver liquid sensor. A loud mechanical hum shook the room. The smell of burnt metal and ozone accompanied the sound.

A column of red light formed a curtain and danced around Ixis like an aurora borealis from hell. Without conscious thought, Andie's blue light flashed from all over her body. Her guard posse collapsed. God, Andie wished she knew how to do that on purpose. It could come in handy. She ran across the room into the curtain of red light. The Priority One spat Ixis out as if she tasted like rotting shark meat and lapped Andie into oblivion.