Alien Bangs and Jupiter MP in: Chopper Girl

The little rescue helicopter drifted through a slalom of mesas with carefree zigzags. From above, it was like a drifting, slithering animal. Its tail swished gently one way, then another as the pilot navigated the wide corridor through the the desert. The sun was drifting to the west as afternoon began a slow slide into evening, and the sky was clear and blue, almost cloudless. It was a pleasant day.

The rescues went well. Six people stranded in the hills meant two trips, for the slim machine could only hold four in the back and two in the cockpit. That meant about half an hour grabbing some food and water at the base near the highway, twenty minutes following the emergency signal sent via satellite, fifteen minutes to check everyone over and get three of the campers into the helicopter, a further fifteen to deliver them to the rendezvous at the road, and about forty minutes total to make the next trip, gather the remaining campers, and drop them off for the military to deliver back to the safety of civilization.

Now, it was time to go home.

“Chopper Girl. Chopper Girl? You copy?”

She snatched up the radio and pressed a button. “Copy-copy. And I have a name. Over.”

“You told us to call you Chopper Girl. Nice job out there today. Payment clears on Friday, and we'll cover all fuel costs as extra. How's that for generous?”

The pilot smiled and said, “You act like you're pulling money right from your own pocket. Everything okay with the campers?”

“Yeah. They were all treating it like a bit of fun. Driving up in the hills like that and getting their truck stuck. They were only up there a few hours anyway. Didn't even need the emergency water.”

“Better safe than thirsty. Whoa!”

“Chopper Girl? You okay? You copy?”

There was a moment of excitement as the helicopter dipped suddenly, shaking the pilot violently in the cabin. Though the feverish rattling of the whole machine lasted just two seconds, it left her heart beating quite ferociously.

“Uh...Yeah. I copy. A little pocket of...something. Not sure what that was. All good.”

There was a sigh from the radio. “Gotta remember that 'over' when we're being serious, Chopper Girl. You won't be the one in trouble if something happens and that black box has nothing but our banter to back me up here. Over.”

And that much was true. She wasn't with the military. She had her own little helipad and a pole barn with a little machine shop. The helicopter belonged to her father, and had been custom built. Now that he was gone and had left her with the whole setup, she'd taken over the rescue business. Most of that business came from a nearby base that floated odd jobs her way. They were quite happy to keep small rescue operations off their maintenance budgets, opting instead to float some cash to the Chopper Girl. That was a nice arrangement, assuming nothing happened to her, which would create a pretty expensive and likely futile rescue expense for her current employer.

“Copy. Over.”

“Copy-over? Ain't that somethin'. According to the rules of communication, by all technicalities, you didn't even say anything. Hey, double check for me. Make sure you're all right so I don't have to worry. Over.”

The pilot did so. All her instruments were fine. The chopper felt right. Really, the only thing bothering her was that jolt, which was not something she had experienced in such a violent manner before. This meant, of course, that when it happened the second time, she had experience on her side.

Right up until the nose of the helicopter started to dip, and she crashed. That was completely new.

***

Elsewhere, though not too far off, there were essentially two girls. If the wording of such is a little jarring, understand that while the statement is technically true, there is an omission that paints a much more bizarre state of affairs. True, the one was exactly as might be expected; flowing, red hair, nearly to her elbows, a pretty face with quite soft lips, and bright eyes that seemed to look beyond her youthful years. She was tall and slender, and beautiful enough that she might stand out in a crowd, though it was her clothes that would really do it. A dark-blue coat with straight cuffs and a single pad over her left shoulder made her out to be something a little more official than was true. This became obvious when taking in the very short skirt that made up the bottom half of her outfit. All that remained were the fashionable white boots, and an equally white sash that held her coat closed.

She had yet to put on the white cap or the gloves.

“Are you sure this is the right uniform? I feel...leggy.”

The other girl would have no trouble standing out in a crowd. She wasn't as tall as the other. Her hair was a little less silky, and certainly not as brushed. In a more rugged sense, she could boast being equally attractive, for the tufts of orange hair had a wild and adventurous nature. She was indulging in something a little simpler where clothing was concerned. It was a long sleeved shirt with a hood. Especially about the elbows, it bunched up in places like it was just a little too big. The shirt was striped burgundy and gray, and the word “LUMINE” was stitched over the chest for no discernible reason. This matched rather well with thin, gray sweatpants cinched tight over her waist. She could have easily vanished in a crowd compared to her companion, except for the very exclusive blue skin that, no doubt, would have been an attention grabbing aspect, even if the pincers that hung from her forehead like long locks of hair somehow slipped past notice.

“It's all the raging fashion in 3042. Completely angry. Luminiferous grumpiness.”

The tall girl, and the one who was actually human, tapped her chin and stared out the window of the tiny cockpit. “Okay. But why 3042? How does dressing for a thousand years in the future help me fit in?”

“A thousand...?” The alien girl tapped her forehead. “Right. Yeah. By the aether, it's so hard to imagine being in Earthian Calendar 2042. It just seems so long ago!”

The Earth girl, whose name was Jupiter Maxine Phillips, rolled her eyes. “But that's a small difference for you, right? You're from way in the future, aren't you, Alien?”

This was not a generalization on the part of Jupiter. By a freak coincidence of language, the alien currently being addressed was named “Alien.”

Alien Bangs, to be precise.

“Future like you can't imagine! Bowlfuls of years beyond anything you know. And just think! I'm technically the first Durmot to meet a Human! Historic note! I shall have to find you proper clothes, but right now you shine with the lumine of a true space traveler! Ah, now, let me see...we need to build that time machine, but the parts are a bit...”

Jupiter watched as a frowny expression crossed Alien's face. “What's wrong?” Jupiter asked.

Briefly, Alien's skin flashed a sickly green-blue hue. “Ugh. That's not good. That's not good. By the lumine! That's not good at all!”

Alien thumped her spaceship's displays with a very flimsy fist. Jupiter had not seen her upset to this extent before. “Something wrong with the chrono-whatsis?”

Alien planted her face against the controls and groaned. “Jupiteeeerrrr...”

“What!? What is it? Something go wrong? Don't tell me you stranded us fifteen years in my future. In a silly outfit.”

Alien blinked and looked up. “Oh, it's so much worse than that. So much worse. Fizzling lumine, it's bad.”

It certainly must have been. According to Alien herself, the Durmot were a race known for spilling their thoughts right off their tongue, and hardly a secret kept. Yet here she was, hesitating to confess her troubles. With a slow turn of her head and sad, sad eyes, Alien looked up at her companion and said, “I just got a distress call.”

Jupiter placed her hands on the armrests of an incredibly nice chair, which Alien had retrofitted into the tiny cabin of her ship, specifically for Jupiter's comfort. “Oh, my.”

And the Durmot girl finally lifted herself up. She had a resigned look about her, and leaned back in her own chair, sighing. “Mazzelbaffers. Couldn't be worse. Couldn't be worse.”

Jupiter waited patiently.

Finally, she asked, “Why?”

“Oh,” Alien said, suddenly sounding her usual, cheery self, “it means we have to rescue someone. And, luminiferous aether, if that doesn't mean Time Command is gonna get wind of us. I'm totally slartmoppled now.”

“I don't speak Durmot.”

“That's not Durmot. But I'm sure the context is clear as the Seething Nebula.”

“But,” said Jupiter, “how is this bad? And what does Time Command have to do with it? You mean you're going to rescue someone in your ship, right? So they'll notice you're here?”

Alien nodded. “Haaaaa-yup.”

Jupiter waved an arm at this. “Well, maybe we can, I don't know, hide the ship, and I can do the rescuing. Maybe it's not anything too bad. That's why you brought me, right? To do the leg work. I'd prefer to do it with a little less leg showing, but whatever. The point is...”

“No, you're upwind of aether. Wrong dips. Jettisoned realm. It's a distress call from a time traveler. Oh, paffsnaggins! Why do they not use Durmot technology? Reliable infusions.”

“Totally agree. But hey! That should make it easier, right? Time traveler helping time traveler? Time Command isn't going to notice if you both keep it a secret, right?”

Alien turned fully on Jupiter, with a look of complete surprise. “Wow. That...Oh wow.”

Jupiter's face was a frozen mask as the alien scrutinized her up and down. What had she said wrong?

“You are absolutely adorable.” Alien said. “Were it such grazing distribution! It's so very difficult enough, and I stress, by aether, to imagine that two chronosticators wouldn't excite the future's inertial time scars, oh, let me tell you what a dead giveaway that will be. But the signal itself is from a Time Command ship. Whatever I do is going to be logged. Nevermind that my presence will now be more obvious than a Talingal tail.”

“Okay, then. Okay.” Jupiter spun round in her chair a few times. Then she crossed her legs and faced Alien seriously. “So maybe we scope it out, and if it's not too bad, we don't interfere. You said this Time Command is pretty quick to spot things. Maybe they're already sending help. It's time travel anyway, so maybe they already did help.”

Alien frowned again. “I'm a Durmot, Jupiter. There are two highly advanced civilizations in my time. Oh, milky lumine! You have no idea how advanced. You really cannot possibly fathom the black depths of your ignorance in this matter, heavens and harmonies, no! Your simple, unevolved human brain could not, even with hours of instruction around a Krenellian campfire, possibly absorb the extent of your race's current and absolute, unsophisticated blindness to~”

“~You really have no filter when it comes to laying it on thick, do you?”

Alien scratched her head. “Sorry. I'm not trying to say you're stupid. I did,” she added, staring off to the side distractedly, “but I promise I wasn't trying.”

“Well then. No offense taken.”

“It just comes so easily, when I'm considering all the~”

“~I said it's fine. Can you please get on with it?”

Alien cleared her throat. “Yes. Pillars of Lumine, to even consider abandoning my duty! The Durmot are sworn to protect time and the travelers therein, just as the mighty Mythe protect space. I could hardly consider myself a member of my race if I ignored a time traveler in distress. That, and Time Command would, as you know, have my hide!”

They sat in silence for a while. Alien's pincers wriggled and clicked. Jupiter stared at her with fingers pressed together, trying to not feel completely insulted and stupid. She wondered what the scale was exactly. Was it like a human looking down on a chimpanzee? Or was it worse than that? Maybe she was just a bug. The thought annoyed her, but simultaneously ignited a little jealousy. To have the brains of a Durmot must be extraordinary. On reflection, however, Jupiter had spent several years now trying to cover for a fear of being disliked by being as outgoing and pretty as possible. She had a feeling she was better at pretty, but in fairness to the blows her ego now suffered, she had often been told she had intelligent eyes.

Whatever that meant.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Because of the mannerisms of her...oh, it was too harsh to say “captor.” Technically, she'd been trying to steal from Alien's ship. But the way Alien behaved was a little idiotic, mostly due to the way she said almost anything that was on her mind.

But enough time had passed, and Jupiter felt it was important to mention this next bit:

“So we are going to rescue this lost traveler, right?”

“Like I said.”

“Only we haven't moved.”

Alien turned to her controls. “Ooh, you are just so adorable. Look outside. A Durmot ship is so stable against the Flushing Aether, you're not going to feel it move unless I disable the gravitonic circulation, or ram right into a time scar. Didn't you see me wiggle the pincers? I told you I can control the ship with them.”

Jupiter, completely scurrying to rescue her ego as she glanced out the window, heaved a sigh. She scanned the desert that lay before them and looked for signs of a new alien ship. Hopefully, it would be one less crammed.

There was a thought that struck her, and a little sadness filled her heart. “Oh, but I guess this means that's it. I was looking forward to being friends with an alien for a while.”

“Well, I was going to have to cut out a piece of your brain anyway, so you'd forget.”

“What!?”

“Earth humor. Just trying it. Bad taste! Supreme!”

Jupiter allowed her heart to slow down. It sure was in bad taste.

***

The ship landed, which Jupiter did feel, and Alien explained that slipping the Flushing Aether from beneath the ship to contact ground was the only reason they felt anything. It was like yanking a cloth from a table, she said, but leaving the settings intact.

A staircase outside the door of the cockpit formed from thin air, and they descended.

“Only the settings are, pointwise, a ship! Now, I've parked us behind this big, big rock. And let's just hide it...” Alien wriggled her pincers, and the ship's color and texture changed to blend in to the red and brown of the desert so well, it practically vanished before Jupiter's eyes.

“Come along, Jupiter. Maybe we'll get lucky, and we can delay Time Command a little.

It should be pointed out that Alien was not, herself, stranded in time. No, not by a longshot. She was quite proud, it seemed, of the technology of her people, for whom time travel was as simple as a stroll to the grocery store. She boasted that the number of times Time Command had to rescue a Durmot could be counted on the flagella of one appendage of the Celberisce Flomclaw. Now, for all Jupiter knew, that creature might have a million flagella, but likely not. This was far from one of those cases where Alien's context was unclear. While her ship was quite capable of traveling back to her own time, she had “acquired” Jupiter to assist in the construction of a primitive time machine, which would take her back without immediately alerting this dreaded Time Command.

“The burning crust of Czexpar is this: I have muddloxed Time Command on several occasions, and they will really punish me if they catch me time dropping to ancient Earth. Big sizzle. Ka-bang!”

“What do they do? Is there a time jail?”

“Worse.”

“Freeze you in time?”

“Even worse.” Alien said, and she flushed orange just thinking about it.

Jupiter gasped. “Don't tell me they erase you from time itself?”

Alien shook her head. “Not technically possible. But worse.”

Jupiter pressed her alien comrade, trying to be patient. Again, she didn't usually take so long to answer. “Must be horrific. What, exactly, will happen to you?”

Alien stopped. She turned, and tried to take Jupiter by the shoulder, but Jupiter was too tall, so the elbows had to do. Alien looked pretty glum, and stared off to one side with her head hanging low. “I feel it's only fair to warn you. I've got you mixed up in this now. Luminiferous aether, it may have been selfish of me, but what's done is done. At some point, Time command is probably going to catch me, and when they do, we will both be taken to an undisclosed date. We will be escorted by the Elves of High Time to a sacred chamber. We will be sat down in two chairs at an oval table. The table is made from the bones of an ancient Star Lumberer, which carries an imprint of gravitonic time. Two elves will enter the room. They are the Scribes of Time Discontinuity. They will cast upon us the dust of the Lumberer's bones, and the dust will create a time echo that will portray our transgressions. An Inquisitor, likely a Durmot from beyond the Future Chasm, will then enter the chamber. The Inquisitor will examine our time echo, make judgment of the level of disturbance. Then...then...”

Jupiter was taken by panic. “Now wait a minute! I...I had nothing to do with all this! You're the one that insisted I come along! I don't know any of these time rules!”

Alien tilted her head one way, then the other, hopping in a half circle and starting to trek off.“They'll be the ones to judge your involvement. You can bet your astrological sector on that.”

“But what will they punish us with, precisely?” Jupiter demanded, following along.

“Well, after all that, the elves will be asked to leave the room, we will remain seated, and the Inquisitor will stand before us, almost certainly with a nasty frown. Then, he will give us the sternest talking-to you have ever experienced.”

“And the sentence? Don't hold back on my account. In for a penny at this point.” Jupiter looked back and squinted at the practically invisible spaceship. Not terribly large, but it seemed so much smaller on the inside, sometimes. She shielded her eyes from a sudden wind as she examined the formerly orange-green hull, sleek and new, shaped like a fish, but missing anything that indicated it could receive signals. She always pictured some kind of satellite dish or receiver on the top, but there was nothing of the kind.

“Sentence?” asked Alien. “Some of them will be quite long. It's a pretty good admonishment. Take it from me.”

“The punishment, I mean. You keep skipping that part.”

Alien raised an eyebrow, and held it that way until Jupiter turned around and noticed.

“They might make you do time cleanup with the elves. That's never fun, but I volunteer sometimes, so it's not too bad. 'Make' is a strong word for it, really. They kind of guilt you into it. 'By the aether, you could at least clean up a little after yourself!' they'll say.”

Jupiter wanted to say how adorable that was, but she didn't think she could do it without sounding mean. “So just a talking-to?”

“A stern talkinig-to. Could last forty minutes, if you catch an Inquisitor on a bad day.”

The pair surveyed their surroundings. Jupiter blocked the sun with one hand and stared off into the distance. Alien clicked her pincers rapidly, fanning away the tiny grains of sand being carried by the wind. They were safely hidden behind the curve of a small canyon between two mesas. Alien looked down at her arm, gave it a scratch, and seemed to be reading something, or making an examination.

“Just around the bend. The pilot is alive, thank goodness. I don't do well with gruesome. You're not going to do that whole dancing around and wearing the bones of the dead thing, are you? I mean, you probably shouldn't, since nobody is dead. But you wouldn't do that, right?”

Exasperated, Jupiter snapped, “What exactly is your view of the twenty-first century?”

“Nominally boring time until 2057. That's when all luminiferous hell breaks loose.”

They made their way round the bend, which is about how Jupiter felt. “That's probably in my lifetime. I really don't want to know.”

“You blindingly don't. You deafeningly don't.”

“How do you know so much about Earth? Why do you speak English? I mean, you speak this era's English pretty well.”

Alien tottered along, ankles twisting back and forth as she capered at the lead. Apparently, Durmot bones were a little more flexible. She seemed cartoonish, even in her modern sweats. “I speak every era, and every Earth language. Anyone with an understanding of Durmot will have little trouble with the languages of lesser species. And I'm from a race of very active travelers through time and space. We know such as illuminates the valleys of the Majestic Graviterra. All Durmot children suffer the Dark Histories. There is knowledge that quite literally can melt a human mind. A Durmot can mostly handle it. Only the Mythe are completely immune.”

Alien seemed to be walking slowly, despite the excessive capering. Jupiter found herself having to consciously slow down every few steps to keep from tripping over the space girl. She wasn't made for the desert heat, and seemed to slouch a little, but nothing would stop the Durmot's wild gesticulation. It's how they kept their hyperactive brains churning all the time.

“You mentioned the Mythe before. What are they?”

Alien spun round and raised her hands, wiggling her fingers and making what she probably thought was a scary face. “Big, bipedal snake people! They have scales and long necks, and they hisssss at you when they talk. Adrenaline! Intimidating! Gasps of awe! Their technology rivals the Durmot, and for all we know, they have better time travel. But they never time travel, and won't talk about why to anyone. Mysterious!”

Jupiter smirked. “Almost Mythe-ical!”

Alien paused her finger wriggling. “Oh, no. Mythic. Their language is Mythic. Mythical is how they describe ancient Klennesian, because it sounds like Mythic. We just call it Fleemiankalsy in Durmot.”

Jupiter sighed and stepped ahead of Alien. “Nevermind. Say, can you teach me some Durmot?”

“Oh, your unevolved human brain would shut down after five minutes. Our language is so complex, and functions on a particle bridge syntax. Your internal circuitry can't process it properly. Even in my time, humans have barely evolved to a level that allows for basic Durmot conversational speech.”

“That's quite insane.”

“You would be, yes, after a paragraph. Besides, the last thing I want is a human dropping far-future Durmot terminology. Do you have any idea how many races currently intercept your signals? Although most are just using the planet for the wireless...”

Jupiter stopped, and Alien bumped into her. In typical Durmot fashion, her brain took a while to inform her that she needed to stop, so she kept trying to walk, and nearly knocked Jupiter over. Finally, Alien caught up to the moment, peeked around Jupiter's back, and pronounced, “Oh, great Lumine. That's really bad.”

It wasn't just bad. It was a helicopter.

***

Jupiter was having a little trouble coping at the moment. She tended to the girl that Alien had feverishly pulled from the wreckage. This wasn't a time traveler. She was in desert camouflage, had water bottles and flashlights and things strapped to her belt, a knife just above her boot, and a dozen other bumps beneath her many pockets, none of which Jupiter felt like investigating. Her hair was a natural red, moreso than Jupiter's, who dyed her own a darker red. The girl had freckles, and obviously saw a lot of the sun, given the condition of the skin on her face. Though she couldn't be much older than twenty, there were very small wrinkles at the sides of both eyes. Jupiter assumed they were a result of all the squinting one must do in the desert. Her face had a few cuts, and one side was dirty with ash from a small fire in the cockpit, which necessitated her quick removal. Quite a rugged person, indeed, but absolutely not a time traveler. That much, very obvious. It was totally obvious.

But Alien had registered recognition, and even a little dread, at the sight of the girl. Skin turning orange, she looked simultaneously sick and grief-stricken. She did not handle the thought of others being injured very well. The task itself, however, she handled expertly.

“Aether bless it that she wasn't out here long. Moisture is supreme, and much nutrition integrity. She's in pain. Probably having a time nightmare as well. Feverous life! This requires a first aid kit!”

Jupiter brought the girl over her lap and tried to lay her comfortably. “I can stay here while you go back to the ship. We should have brought it with us!”

Alien made a motion over her forearm, and her luminiferous toolbridge formed from the aether. “What silliness. Of course I brought it. Blessed aether, as if a Durmot wouldn't be prepared! I'm insulted!”

Jupiter watched Alien remove a tube of something from what looked like glowing, bluish air. She could see right through the little kit from the outside, but Alien was pulling solid objects from within. Something about seeing it happen felt nightmarish, as if the Durmot could hide anything from anyone.

The tube was shaken over the girl like so much salt over eggs. Jupiter saw nothing come out, and hoped whatever it was did not blow into her face, for she had no idea what was being done. Alien had to know what she was doing, after all.

That was somewhat reassuring, but not completely. In reality, genius though she may be, Alien Bangs always seemed a little distracted, and definitely mistake-prone.

“Okay, hold her for a few minutes. I'm going to take a look at her time machine.”

“It's a helicopter. It's not a time machine.”

As Alien stood and started to pace around the machine, looking it over, she sighed with a little condescension in her voice. “Oh, Jupiter, Jupiter. Jupiter Maxine Phillips. Little Gas Giant.”

Jupiter really didn't like that nickname. Made her sound like she had a rough week of fast food dining.

“She's not just any time traveler, and this isn't just a helicopter. She works for Time Command. Retro to the teeth! We call her the Chopper Girl! I'd recognize this anywhere. We've...Oh, the lumine shines upon all, I should say. We've met. Once or twice before I got a stern talking-to. Infamy! Everyone knows about the Chopper Girl from Time Command. Feared through eighteen ages! Colossal honors! High reputation! Merging human knowledge with Durmot technology! But what could have happened here? See this? The propellers? The nano coating is stripped, adorable technology that it is. Probably lost all thrust against the aether in space. Her whole ship fell through a time scar, just like mine. Strange rating. All her time gear was stripped. So cool! Ooh, if I do get caught, at least I get to brag that I rescued the Chopper Girl. Blazing Lumine, I might even get a smile from the elves!”

For several moments, Alien Bangs danced around the ship, tottered this way, hopped that way, examining every inch of the thing. “I can fix it! I can fix it for her!”

A light groan escaped the girl's lips.

“I think she's waking up, Alien!”

So Alien hopped back over on one foot. “Good. High sub-perfect! She'll be a little groggy, won't recognize where the aether she is, and probably won't be able to speak. But she'll understand. Just stay here. Stay,” said Alien, spinning round with arms outstretched, “right here. I'll go get my ship. We'll send her back with my chronosticator. Just gotta get her some spare parts, and work out the dents.”

Jupiter examined the utterly crumpled bird. “You mean we're going to sit out here and repair an entire helicopter? In the middle of the desert? What if the police or the army shows up? You're an alien! You know what they're going to do to an alien and a time traveler if they get their hands on...why are you smirking?”

Alien laughed. “Little Gas Giant! By the luminiferous accounting of saucer bugs! Military! She's Time Command, and I'm a Durmot! The assembled armies of your whole planet aren't a match for my ship, you silly...silly...Jupiter. We'll just set up a time well, anyway. We'll be fine. It'll only take three minutes.”

Jupiter turned again to look at the smashed, bent, twisted wreckage of the helicopter. “To fix a helicopter? Three minutes?”

“No. Three minutes to fix a time machine!”

Alien darted away.

Jupiter fanned the girl in her lap with one white glove. The girl's eyes opened a few times, shut, then slowly opened to stare at Jupiter. A look at the glazed expression told Jupiter that her patient wasn't quite aware yet. The sun was still sinking, so the heat began to seep away, and while there wasn't any immediate danger, Jupiter wet one of her gloves and patted the girl's face all over.

“Rescue...”

When the girl spoke, Jupiter lay her back gently, brushing away the girl's red hair, now full of sand. She placed the wet glove on the girl's forehead and sat patiently.

“That's right. Consider yourself rescued. If you can hear me.”

The excitement of traveling with an alien, thought Jupiter.

At that moment, Alien returned in her ship, which zipped into view next to Jupiter as if it had always been there, then came to rest gently on the ground near the helicopter. An excited Alien descended the luminiferous staircase, or whatever she called it, and began hopping around the broken machine once more.

“Fairly rich time residue. Propellers will need aether propulsion. And the chronosticator should go there, and maybe upgrade the fuel repository. Cosmic waste! What kind of engine is that? Yes, that'll have to go, and that...let's see...”

She began counting on her fingers. Jupiter watched, fascinated, and even more perplexed when Alien began clicking her pincers rapidly. Her ship responded by bathing sections of the helicopter in eerie light, not unlike the very kind one would see in a movie about mysterious spaceships hovering in the distance. If she was the first human to meet a Durmot, that was no reason to assume their ships had not left impressions on humanity somewhere in the past. After all, if they knew Earth history, they must have been here, right?

“Yes, but most of it was from Human records in the future.”

Jupiter's mouth hung open. “I thought you said you couldn't read human minds!”

“I can't. It's just obvious you'd be thinking it. It's the way you stare at the lights. Luminous thoughts.”

Lovely. She was traveling with some sort of intergalactic Auguste Dupin...

Before her very eyes, Jupiter saw the metal of the helicopter popping and reforming its shape without making a sound. It was like watching a balloon inflating. Little devices that looked very Durmot in nature burned themselves into reality along the propellers, down the tail of the craft, throughout the underbelly, and little instruments with strange, holographic screens replaced the equipment of the cockpit. It was much more like magic than mechanics. Almost three minutes passed, and in that time, the chopper was up on its landing skids. It gleamed like new, and it may as well be, for while it still looked like something that would fit the modern century, there were these bits all over that didn't fit Jupiter's inner memory of a helicopter. She wasn't an expert or anything, but she had seen enough of them in her life that she knew something was just...not right.

Alien was feeling ecstatic, however.

“Good as new! Astral luck! My ship remembered hers. Fancy replications! This'll get her home, sure bets!”

A sudden shifting caused Jupiter to look down. The girl was looking up at her, eyes barely open. Alien came bounding along and knelt beside them.

“Fortunas Luminesce! Patience, now, Chopper Girl! Your head is cooking with enorepair molecules. Slight sizzles. Should repair any damage from the concussion.”

“Wha...” the girl squinted at Alien. “Who...?”

From the girl's perspective, there was this freaky moment where a strange, blue girl with twitchy bits of hair knelt over her, beaming maniacally. The world was spinning, and she wasn't sure where she was, or what was happening. She remembered flying, and the helicopter, and she was able to put together what might have happened, but her thoughts weren't clear just yet. There was another girl, face a little obscured by shadow, but it was obvious she was some kind of official body, dressed as she was in uniform. What uniform, though? It was...military, right? She was doing something for the military. And now she was looking up at an alien. Yes, it was an alien. Should she panic? Something didn't make sense. She tried to get up, but the alien took her head in both hands, and they touched foreheads. Then, it was like an explosion.

From Alien's point of view, things were quite different. The enorepair molecules would do their work, but the Chopper Girl's heart was starting to race. Shock, no doubt. Well, she was from a time much farther in the future than Jupiter, so it wouldn't hurt to help her along just a little.

“Let's jumpstart that memory. A little bit of your personal history should help.”

Alien took the Chopper Girl's face in her palms and pressed the girl's forehead to her own. “Just a little zap. Don't worry. Happy times! Just a few of my memories of who you are, but your own should return pretty quickly. By Lumine! You must have had some real damage in there! Enofiber is still filling in gaps! I'd better not press too hard on your psyche, heavens no!”

She pulled away, and the girl jolted upright, as if struck by lightning, clutching her head.

Jupiter slowly stood and helped this Chopper Girl up.

“Steady now.” Jupiter offered.

“I have a name. I have...a name.”

“Chopper Girl, right?” Alien said. “Unprecedented! Where is all your time gear? Your chronostic recording box? Your entire ship was stripped bare!”

“I don't...what was my name?”

“Chop...Light transference, you mean your real name? As I recall, it was Adrala Starr.”

Adrala seemed perplexed and a little upset by that. To the other two, she still seemed a little wobbly and tired, but in her own head, she was sure something was wrong with that name.

The, she saw the spaceship.

“Durmot...” she muttered, staring up in fascination. She recognized it, but didn't understand why. She walked up to it, placing a hand against the gleaming hull. “I tried to fly one, once.”

The memory was in her head, but had she really? Her whole history felt like something she was reading out of a pamphlet. She turned to the other two.

“What was I doing? What happened?”

“Well,” said Jupiter, looking away, “we're not sure.”

“Time tracking, or maybe on a rescue mission! But then you needed rescue. Because you crashed.” Alien added, raising a finger. “And lucky I was in town to fetch you. I'm in a fix myself, as always. I don't suppose we could work out a little deal? High conspiracy? Maybe, since all your equipment is missing, and nothing is going to automatically record my presence, thank Lumine, you can pretend I was never here?”

Adrala stood there, desperately trying to recognize the things she recognized. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. You're Alien Bangs, aren't you? I feel like I know you.”

Alien frowned. “Oh, dear. There must be something wrong, indeed. Enorepair is usually perfect, but falling through the massive time scar could cause mental displacement. Tell you what, let's get you in your time machine and send you to a hospital. I'll set the beacon to call Time Command. They'll be there...Oh, aetheric paradox, they'll be there before you arrive. Whatever you were doing, you fell through time, so someone else will have finished the job by then, or now, or before. Are you okay? You heard me, right?”

Adrala was staring at her helicopter. This, too, seemed off.

“You said I crashed.” she said, not looking away from the brilliantly new machine.

“I know.” Jupiter said, before Alien could run off at the mouth again, “It's just like new.”

Adrala just stared. “Durmot technology. The repair seems perfect.”

And, once more, Adrala was sure that her recognition was wrong. But this was her exact equipment, same as she had always used. Her brain was sparking with memories of all these things after Alien had bumped heads with her. Yes, that must be it! The crash had done a number, all right! And now it was all so foggy, it barely felt like she was herself. That made sense. She'd picked this design herself, basing it off one of those old Earth helicopters.

She groaned suddenly, slumping. Two pairs of arms were at her side immediately.

“No time to waste, by Lumine. Let's get you in the chopper, Chopper Girl. Jupiter? I'm setting her ship for 3042. Great brain hospital, famous in your history. Should do the trick nicely. And you, Adrala, get some rest and let the Earthlings take care of you. Time Command will have someone there to keep everything in order. Can't send you too far into the future with mental displacement. A thousand years will do just fine, even with your highly evolved brain. That's it. In the seat. Why did you have seatbelts in a time machine? Well, retro pleasance. I'll set all the controls, but all the equipment needs your mental imprint. There's a good Human.”

Alien actually patted the concussed pilot on her head, like a puppy. Jupiter cringed.

They loaded the confused girl up and stood back. Inside the cockpit, they saw confusion spread over Adrala's face, but she reached out and touched a few controls, and the machine slowly faded away.

Jupiter looked down. “Why the rush? She looked like she needed a moment to get her bearings.”

Alien shrugged and said, “What rush? I was taking it slow.”

“Slow?”

It had seemed Alien wanted to get rid of Adrala as soon as possible. However, if Jupiter thought about it, this was just the normal, antsy Durmot behavior she was trying to get used to. Alien was always over-excited.

“She'll be okay, right? We didn't just toss someone into time while caution was still in the wind, did we?”

“Absolutely not!” Alien pointed to her bangs. “My pincers. My technology. Race of time travelers. Zero mistakes. She'll get to the hospital, they'll think her brain is a little strange, but they'll fix her up without intrusion, and her real memories will gradually latch on to the loose biography I transferred from my own knowledge.”

“Okay. That's fine, then.”

“She really did seem out of it. Mental displacement is not so terribly unlumine, most times.”

They stood in silence. When the sound of some approaching vehicles alerted them, Alien Bangs and Jupiter Maxine Phillips ascended the stairs to the Durmot ship. Alien's pincers got to work, and the ship became completely invisible. They watched with curiosity as a crowd of official and military looking vehicles started to sweep the area.

“See how quick they showed up?” Alien said. “Guided by Lumine! With all her gear stripped away, it was like a perfectly normal crash, easy to detect by present-day humanity.”

“Yeah. Say, Alien?”

“Hm?”

“Just a thought. Just thinking. That thing you did to her head. What was that, exactly?”

Alien swiveled to her controls, turning the chair away from Jupiter. “Luminous operation. Memory gifting, and well wrapped! To remind her who she was. Usually works better, but time displacement can make for bad wrapping jobs.”

“And human brains can handle that?”

Alien laughed. “Not as much as I gave her! I mean, if it was you, it wouldn't have worked. But she's from far, far in the future. Well evolved. She could probably speak Durmot a little. She didn't feel a thing, I'm sure.”

Jupiter pretended she knew what some of the ship's instruments meant, and scanned everything as if she could possibly help. “Okay. But follow me on this. What if it was me? What would it do to my brain?”

Alien tapped her chin. “Oh, not kill you. Not the little bit that I did. But it would feel like your head exploded. Total scramble! Displaced memories, confusion, temporary loss of self. Would not be good at all. Time Command would talk my hide off if I did that to an ancient. Of any race.”

There was silence.

There was more silence.

Alien's chair slowly swiveled around. Her eyes were almost as wide as the time Jupiter had returned to the ship with ice cream sandwiches. Minus the joy.

She had gone quite a pale shade of orange, in fact.

“Luminiferous aether! I created the Chopper Girl!”

***

By the time Adrala reached the hospital, things were slipping away at a frightening pace. The chopper was hidden away, and a very sympathetic Time Command agent, thankfully human, helped her to her destination. He was confused by her insistence, muttering something about mental displacement. At the hospital, she found herself of two minds, with old and new memories fighting for space. It wasn't even like she could tell the difference. Nothing was clear. The faces of the two that had helped her disappeared like a dream. The hospital seemed at once to contain incredible technology, but also very primitive by comparison to her own time. Her own time seemed to be in two places at once. As they took her to a room and administered a sleeping agent, Adrala was horrified to realize that two sets of memories were simultaneously dying, and most would be forgotten by the time she awoke. The alien said that her real memories should have replaced the borrowed ones, but she could barely remember that alien, and was struggling to recall how she had gotten to the hospital.

Quite strangely, all the nurses were dressed in blue uniforms, like the one on the girl that had helped her recover. And that girl was slipping away, making the wandering copies in the hospital seem eerie, like something from a nearly forgotten dream.

The story went thusly: A strange girl appeared at a hospital in the year 3042. She had knowledge of the far future, and insisted that she was an agent of Time Command. To the hospital staff, she couldn't explain what she meant by Time Command, but to the agent hidden within the hospital, all the proof was there. He knew the Chopper Girl, and realized this was her origin. There was no record anywhere of the birthplace of Adrala Starr, but she had Durmot technology packed into a retro design from ancient Earth. Everyone assumed some time accident had displaced her memories, and at her insistence, with no other recourse, Time Command was forced to adopt her into their ranks, where she became a leading rescue agent. Better equipped hospitals in the future were able to restore some of the latent brain functions that must have degraded her mental capacity to a nearly primitive state. Eventually, even Time Command gave up trying to discover where she had come from. Memories broken, all evidence seemed lost in a time accident. It never occurred to anyone that she might have been from the year 2042, and through a series of improbable coincidences, came into possession of Durmot technology, and the knowledge of how to use it.

And, quite likely, Alien Bangs would one day receive a very, very stern talking-to.