Indiana was not fond of the way Jonah interacted with Nikki. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was wrong, except that the man was overly familiar and effusive with her.

Worse, Jonah was strong and handsome, just the kind of male Earth females liked.

Although Nikki had not allowed Indiana to lay any claim on her, he was still riddled with a hollow and uncomfortable feeling he could only assume was jealousy.

He stood as soon as the door closed behind her.

“I must go,” he said.

“You have a tennis lesson too?” Jonah asked.

“No,” Indy said. “I just need to leave.”

“Well… I guess I’ll see you later,” Jonah said. He looked a little crestfallen.

“Don’t worry,” Indiana couldn’t help assuring him. “You will be a fine decoy.”

“Thanks,” Jonah said, the smile back on his face. “See you later, then.”

“Yes.” Indy nodded, then headed outside as fast as he could.

Indiana was accustomed to the wide space of the lab, the open field and pond in Stargazer, and the screened cabin at Maxwell’s. He wasn’t entirely comfortable in constrained spaces.

He wondered if he would get used to it in time, or if he would be like a wild animal, unhappy when confined.

The sky was blue and the grass stretched and shimmied in the light breeze, trying to distract him from his worries.

One of the other waiters was heading his way from the direction of the golf course. Indiana started to smile and make a lighthearted joke about his lifeguard girlfriend, then remembered that the other man likely didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him now that he suspected Indy was an alien.

Indiana felt his mood darken further, and found his feet carrying him toward the tennis courts instead of his intended walk on the golf course.

He had always been curious about Nikki’s tennis lessons. She was not a skilled player and she did not seem to enjoy learning. He wondered if perhaps she was interested in playing to further her future career. But it seemed that the game of golf was a more likely sport for fraternizing with bosses, if the movies were to be believed.

No, there must be something else driving her to relentlessly take tennis lessons.

His sense of jealousy now fully awake and ruffled, Indiana decided to get to the bottom of it.

The tennis courts were sheltered in the hillside below a small picnic area. It was a sunny day, so the seating area on the big terrace back at the lodge was open, and the wait staff brought lemonade and coffee there regularly. So it was improbable that he would be disturbed at the weathered old picnic table overlooking the tennis courts.

If he could reach it before Nikki came out for her lesson, he could observe her from above. And unless she decided to look up into the trees on the hill, she was unlikely to notice him there.

He managed to make it up the hill to the table before she appeared below.

A squirrel was already sitting on top of the table, eating half of a cinnamon raisin bagel. The creature observed him, its dark eyes wide as if it were horrified that Indiana could be so impudent as to interrupt its meal.

“Hello,” Indiana whispered politely, though he had been told repeatedly that animals couldn’t speak.

The squirrel only dragged its prize away, scolding him soundly as it scuttled up a tree.

Indiana approached and sat on one of the benches, then slid himself as close to the end of it as he dared.

He was just able to see the tennis courts and the little break area nearby.

In the break area, a man and woman were huddled close together.

And though Indy might not want to admit to himself who the woman was, her dark curls gave her away.

The short blond man had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Nikki leaned into him intimately.

Indiana felt his cheeks grow hot.

Nikki’s voice carried up the hill, soft and melodious like a clarinet, but too faint for him to pick out the words. Her tone was seductive.

Indy wanted to look away, but somehow he couldn’t. Instead he found himself gritting his teeth and leaning further toward the hillside, trying to hear better, see better.

The man straightened. His arm was still slung over Nikki’s shoulder but he was holding his other hand out between them. He spoke to her, his voice a muted trombone of annoyance.

Indiana watched with interest as the conversation continued a few more minutes, until Nikki slipped something out of her pocket and placed it in the man’s extended hand.

Money.

The man’s hand closed eagerly around the crumpled bills, and they disappeared into his pocket.

What was wrong with these creatures? They were surrounded by natural beauty, fed and sheltered lavishly in exchange for their efforts.

Yet all they cared about were these credits they could exchange for things they didn’t need, things that didn’t seem to make them happy - at least not as happy as the trees and lake and each other’s laughter made them.

Nikki headed for the court, her curls bouncing. Something about that curving, leaping chestnut hair made it seem to Indiana as if she were always about to do something fun.

She hit a few shots with the tennis pro. Indy was impressed by her ability. She was much better than he had led her to believe.

They stopped hitting as someone new entered the court from the men’s changing rooms.

Nikki’s posture shifted and she waved.

Indiana’s jaw dropped.

The person Nikki was waving to was Mr. Sam Travers.

Mr. Travers’s son, Wade, had stalked and threatened Nikki’s roommate, Honey, and subsequently been taken to jail.

Mr. Travers himself had threatened to sell out his stake in Maxwell’s to take the whole place down since his son had gotten into trouble.

And most recently, he had attempted to win the auction for a date with Nikki’s other roommate, Addy, just to spite her.

He was a bad man.

It was shocking to see Nikki looking so pleased to see him.

Mr. Travers, on the other hand, looked less excited to see her. He waved to her once, his smile tight, lips pressed together.

Nikki boldly walked over and appeared to engage him in conversation.

Indiana slid to the very edge of the bench trying to keep an eye on the action below.

Unfortunately, he didn’t anticipate the bench tipping under his weight. It was easy to forget how heavy a human body was when you’d spent most of your existence floating as a formless gas.

He felt himself sink and shifted back toward the center of the bench.

The other legs came back to the ground with a thump.

The squirrel in the tree above, suspecting foul play, began scolding and chattering madly at him.

In its fury, it let go of the bagel.

Indiana yelled out in surprise when the stale cinnamon raisin confection hit him square on his forehead.

And when he looked down at the courts below, the tennis pro, Travers, and Nikki were all looking up at him.

Nikki merely studied him, shielding her eyes from the sun.

But the pro jogged up toward the hillside.

“Hey, buddy,” the guy yelled up, in a tone Indiana thought was cheerful in a forced way.

“Hey,” Indy yelled back.

“My other student is a no-show,” the guy yelled again. “Any chance you’re up for doubles?”

He began to shake his head, but he saw Nikki standing up straighter, as if she hoped he would agree.

“Sure,” he called down. “Hang on.”

Indiana dashed down the curve of the hill on the other side, and rounded the corner to the tennis courts.

Travers gazed at him indifferently.

“Hey, I’m Ralph,” the blond pro said, walking up to him. “You’re Remington, right?”

“Indiana,” Indy corrected him.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry,” Ralph said.

Indy shrugged and grinned.

“You know how to play?” Ralph asked.

“Yes,” Indy replied.

It was true. He knew how to play because he’d read about tennis when he learned that Nikki was taking lessons. His faultless memory meant he could see the rules before his eyes, and the diagram of the court. Even if he had never actually picked up a racket.

“Great,” Ralph replied. “You’ll be partners with Nikki.”

Indy turned to his partner with a grin.

She looked disappointed.

Resolved not to take it personally, Indiana took the racket Ralph offered and headed over to their side of the court.

The sun was high overhead, birds sang in the trees, and Indy was looking forward to trying the game of tennis in person.

Mr. Travers had the first serve. He flung the ball into the air and then swung at it with a grunt.

The ball spun and sailed through the air.

“Nice,” Nikki said softly.

But the ball collided with the top of the net.

“Net ball,” Ralph called. “Watch your follow through.”

Mr. Travers threw the ball again and smashed it with his racket, his face pink with effort already.

Again it hit the net.

“So windy,” Nikki muttered.

There was no wind.

Indiana turned to her again, but her gaze was focused on Travers in a way that made Indy wonder if she might be in love with him.

But of course that was impossible. She would never fall in love with someone whose cruelty could have closed down the place they all loved just to spite the woman his son had assaulted.

At last Travers had a good serve and they were off.

It was one thing to learn about tennis or to watch it in the movies, and another to actually run on the paved court, chasing the ball, trying not to trip over your partner.

For all that Nikki claimed she was no good at tennis, the lessons must have been paying off. She was a fast runner and had a strong arm.

Indy had memorized the rundown of technique but found it easier to subscribe to the Inner Game of Tennis philosophy of asking his body to put the ball on the other side and relying on it to obey, as opposed to paying attention to each element of his carriage.

It turned out that he was rather good at tennis.

It made sense. Indy had long, strong limbs and good hand-eye coordination.

He and Nikki began to rack up a score. Indy made an impressive save of a ball he was sure Nikki should have been able to get to and brought it to game point. Travers served again and Nikki lobbed the ball back over the net, setting him up for an easy shot.

The older man hit the ball with gusto, and it landed near Nikki, just outside the line.

“Damn,” Nikki said in a frustrated way.

“What’s wrong?” Indy asked.

“That was in,” she announced to the others.

It had clearly been out.

“No,” Indy said, confused. “It landed outside the line.”

“No, it was in,” she repeated without looking at him.

“Yes,” Travers said in a celebratory way.

“But, the USTA doubles rules clearly state—” Indy began.

Nikki spun on her heel and gave him a look so icy he got a chill down his spine.

He chose not to continue the argument.

But it was confusing indeed.

Nikki served next.

Travers hit the ball back, right at Nikki. An easy point. She would only need to smash the ball down just over the net to make it impossible for either opponent to reach.

Instead, she looped it slowly toward Travers, who sent it back to Indy.

He hit it, forcing Travers back on his heels and allowing Nikki another chance at an easy score. But instead of capitalizing, she hit the ball directly into the net.

“Good one.” She sighed and shook her head.

Indy watched her, flummoxed.

It had been such an easy shot. She had taken much more difficult ones during the warmup.

It dawned on him that Nikki might be letting Travers win on purpose.

He remembered a day back in the lab, when Dr. Bhimani had learned it was a scientist named Ted’s birthday. She decided they would have a small party and asked Ted what his favorite cake flavor was.

When he told her it was carrot cake, Dr. Bhimani dashed off to the store for ingredients.

Later that evening, everyone gathered in the lab to celebrate Ted’s special day. Dr. Bhimani had brought out a big cake with white frosting, and they all sang and cheered as he made his wish and blew out the candles.

The cake was then sliced and put on plates and handed around.

Indy had been surprised at how heavy the plate was when he took his.

Then everyone began to eat.

A sudden silence came over the room.

When Indy tasted the heavy confection he could tell why. The cake was dense and overly sweet and wet. It was like eating paste made of honey and sugar. The carrot bits, if they ever had really been carrots, were limp and slimy in his mouth.

“How is it?” Dr. Bhimani had her hands clasped in front of her, like a little girl in a book.

“It’s delicious,” Ted said immediately. His words were a bit slurred from the big bite of sticky cake, but he said them with gusto.

All the scientists agreed.

He and his brothers had looked at each other in confusion, then one after the other, fell in line nodding their heads and making noises of appreciation.

The look of relief and happiness on Dr. Bhimani’s face had been a lesson to Indiana. Dr. Bhimani was a kind person and a brilliant scientist. It didn’t matter if she was a terrible carrot cake baker. She had done her best, and nothing would be accomplished by pointing out her confectionary inadequacies except making her feel bad.

Sometimes it was worth lying about something unimportant to save someone’s feelings.

Could Nikki be letting Travers win to keep from hurting his feelings?

Something about that scenario didn’t seem quite right. He must be missing something. But Indiana couldn’t figure out what.

An uncomfortable feeling began to twist its way through his chest.

The friendships he thought he’d formed in this new home were fleeting. Men he’d been friends with yesterday didn’t like him today. Women who had laughed at his jokes now looked at him like he was a walking sex toy.

And the one person whose feelings he cared about was turning out to be not merely mysterious, but as inscrutable as the phantom moon of Gagniss.

But Indiana was learning that when he didn’t understand something important in this new world, the best thing to do was to ask.