"What was its name?"
"Hroooou."
"Who? The alien! Who do you think?!?"
Dexter Gray sighed. This was ridiculous. He and Alex Dalton hadn't done anything wrong, yet they'd been forced to sit here in this tiny, windowless room somewhere deep in the bowels of Serenity Police Headquarters answering questions about the strange alien tourist. An impressive collection of cameras, audio recorders, and psycho-tricorders were arrayed around them. It seemed someone was very intent on recording every word, gesture and brainwave that was spoken, gestured, and thought during the debriefing.
"For the forty-seventh time," said Dexter with exaggerated patience, "His name was Hroooou. We never saw him before this afternoon. He asked us a few directions and we told him. Can we go now?"
The tired police inspector on the opposite side of the well-worn table from Dexter ignored Dex's question. What did the alien want to know?" he asked.
"A few different places around the city," replied Dexter. "I already told you. He wanted to see the zoo, the shopping district... Nothing even vaguely important."
"He asked us about trash," supplied Alex. She was taking this whole situation a little better than Dexter.
"Trash?" repeated the inspector, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.
"Yeah. He didn't seem to know what it was. I don't think they have any where he comes from."
"And where is that?"
"I already told you, Inspector," said Dexter. His patience had ended. "Look, unless you're planning on charging us with something, we're going home." He got up from his chair and nudged Alex to do the same. "You know where to find us if you think of any new questions."
The inspector didn't look pleased, but he knew he'd extracted as much as information as he was going to from these two examples of Starfleet's finest. It was no less and no more than anyone had ever gotten regarding the strange alien tourist.
"Yeah all right," he said. "Thanks for your cooperation. You can pick up your stuff at the front desk. Have a pleasant rest of the night."
As Dex and Alex left the police station, Dex whispered in Alex's ear. "I'm glad you didn't tell them about the little square treats Hroooou kept giving us."
"Why?"
"Because they probably would have dissected us to find out what they were made of!"
Dexter and Alex made it back to the Starfleet Quarter of Serenity City without incident. They were standing on the front porch of Alex's place and saying their goodnights. Dex handed Alex her shopping bags of shoes and clothes.
"What an interesting day," mused Alex. She took the packages from Dex and tossed them in through the open front door, then swept into his arms. They kissed a final goodnight, and each headed for his and her own bed, to dream strawberry and vanilla dreams of each other.
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