Two taps, followed by ten seconds of silence, and then the door quickly pulled open and closed. When Melissa entered the newly furnished office of Operations Director Travis, her ears were flirted with a low sound of Schubert symphony no 3 in D-Major.

Travis's stood with his back turned to her, shoulders stooped over a tablet in his hand, reviewing something important, nonetheless. Without turning her direction, attention still seemingly fixed on the orders at review, he asked. "Please tell me you have some news on that front?"

Melissa did not bother with customary greeting. In the intervening period that she started working, they build a rapport, well enough to not be shackled by such formalities. It was a tad nifty, in the beginning, but soon the bright hair coloured Physicist learned Travis enough to trust that when he invited her for an evening drink, there would be no ulterior motives and a drink was all that he had in mind.

The trust earned placed her in a precarious position when he trusted her with an additional order, a request so secretive that Melissa felt a slight tug to question his rational. She even considered reporting to Director Kane for Travis's well-being, after all, he had been held in a facility before. Even if he was wrongfully held at that moment, perhaps, something broke inside him during the confinement.

But the information she now carried, made her wish, she could turn back the time. To be liberated of all the subtle nuances, to much simpler times when she still was a grad student, and her mind occupied with conformal field theories, and girls. She really did not want to share the burden of Travis, and definitely did not want to be the one to break the news to him.

"Never thought you were into classical music, Travis." Melissa made a safe bet of engaging in small talk.

"No, not a fan," said Travis. "It was a playlist for my mother. Probably shuffled through."

Finding the physicist starting at him, Travis shifted from his position and walked over to the cabinet. One of the few privileges of his new position. Opening, he took a bottle of amber liquid, then poured himself a small drink and another for Melissa.

"I will pass," declined the physicist, "Besides that is some hard stuff."

Respecting her wishes, Travis shrugged and emptied the contents of his glass in a single mouthful. He needed the warmth, and even more, the numbness it provided for the moment. It was surreal, how even Director Kane, who usually expected his agents to maintain integrity, and detested drinking when on duty, shared a drink with him when they last met. In fact, the old man encouraged him. In a silent gesture, Director Kane acknowledged that Travis required that respite if he were to continue confined for over a hundred plus hours every week at work.

"So, how far did your scientist friend get with the analysis?" asked Travis when he felt sufficiently relaxed.

"The results are preliminary. A full analysis will take a longer time, especially with your special conditions." Melissa scoffed when Travis gave her the precise instructions, but now that she became the bearer of this unofficial assignment, the physicist understood the need for reticence, even within their agency. "Severe abnormalities. Lot of translocation and dislocations in genetic materials."

"Plain English please, Melissa."

Melissa threw her hands in frustration. "Look, this is plain English. I am an Astrophysicist, not a geneticist or a molecular biologist. These words are plain. I am as non-technical in these terms as you are."

"But you are a scientist." Not a challenge or a remark. Travis quirked an eyebrow at her direction.

"Travis, this is preposterous. You provided me with two genetic samples and asked me to find someone with enough academic credentials to analyse them, without any digital trails and absolutely, without any electronic devices. Do you realise how ridiculous that request sounds? And now, you expect me to explain genetic structures?"

"Just try." In the moment, Travis seemed to have aged by decades. Melissa could see dark shadows under his eyes, and his own gaze, blinking in and out of focus.

"One of the samples..." Melissa made a deliberate pause, a brief moment to gather her thoughts, not so much the content but the manner of broaching the nifty subject, especially to him. "Your sample... your genetic sequence had...there were mutations. Severe mutations."

"My friend from university, the molecular biologist, who performed the initial analysis, thought I was messing with him, when I said it was a human sample. The other sample, is... in his opinion... mind it...I am repeating his words...'can not even be considered human.' "

"But the truth is," said Travis, taking another sip of his drink, letting the bitterness flow through him. "My DNA has been in the database, for a while. No discrepancy noted ever."

Even without insinuating, Melissa was brilliant enough to notice the implication. Someone has been falsifying all digital records of Travis, hence his unreasonable requirement.

"Someone has been messing with me... for a long time." said Travis."Even before the alien woman crashed, even before the space monster invaded. I am not even sure who we are hunting now. Those who came or those who are already settled here?"

"There is another way to resolve...you mother?" said Melissa. "Unravel the source of your mutations, and perhaps we find the lead to why and who?"

"I know the who behind. The other sample," said Travis, making another pause, to finish the drink. "belongs to Aileen Shor."

"This is serious, Travis. But, how does she factor into all this?"

Travis shrugged, the burden of the past few weeks, of the search for elusive aliens, those updates and committee hearings and the pressure from higher-ups, the obvious reports of distrust with his progress, they all weighed heavy on him. "My mother is tight-lipped," said Travis, eventually.

"But, surely, you must have had some revelations over the years."

"Here is what I know, most gleaned from moments on one of her better days. That time my mother loved playing cello. She was a conservatory student then, and it happened during a rehearsal or practice of Schubert symphony no 3. Mother was congratulated."

"That explains the playlist," said Melissa.

"Mother met someone there, a visitor or something. She was congratulated on her skill, she found it charming, and one thing led to another, a long conversation and an evening drink. You know these things go." Travis stopped the music, almost as if the allegretto tore through his soul. "It was supposed to be a small, harmless fling, consensual and relaxing. They took protective measures but as a single evening went into a weekend, they ran out of measures and then, yours truly happened."

Ran out of measures, Melissa hid her smirk at that particular choice of wording. Must have been a really passionate affair.

Minutes rolled in silence. Eventually, Travis wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, pushing the drowsiness away. "Truth is we are farther than we began, but our goal has moved."

"Travis, hearing all this, I might have an additional lead, but we need to analyse another set of DNA samples," said Melissa. "I once dated this girl, tall, totally breath-taking. Now that I think, with the new developments, she fits the initial profile. She once wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to the hospital. I might have a hair or two of hers, in the blanket"

"What as her name?"

"Astra."

A gentle knock on the door disturbed Travis before he could run a check for the name in the database. Masking his annoyance, he asked for the person to step in.

Aileen gingerly pushed her head through the narrow opening. Seeing Melissa in the room, she asked, "Director Wrede, am I disturbing something private?"

"Oh no, please come in, make yourself comfortable," said Travis, as he moved to prepare another drink for the newcomer.

"I don't want to be intruding on anything. I can always come by later," said Aileen, still both feet out of threshold.

"No, no, please. I insist." Travis moved towards Aileen, welcoming her with a glass filled with rich red liquid. "And while we are at it, better get comfortable. Tons of report to consolidate. Why don't you make yourself comfortable and play some music from your playlist?"

"You sure about that, Director Wrede?" asked Aileen, taking the offered glass with a genuine and uncontested smile.

"Of course, Aileen."

She plugged her own device into the audio system's socket, and played Schubert's symphony no 3. "Always loved it. Others might contest my opinions, but I believe symphony 3 is the best."

Travis exchanged a trouble glance with Melissa. He could no longer care about this Astra, or Myles and Kyle who betrayed his trust. No longer about aliens and their secrets wars. Not a hunt for elusive creatures, being unknown and undetected any more. His adversaries were not cloaked in total invisibility. This got personal, more than he could care to admit.

He realised his mistake. He approached the whole task as a manhunt. Seek and tighten the perimeter. Corner the prey. Seal all exits. A big failure. He should approach it like an espionage assignment. More cloak and less dagger. Smile. Offer friendship. Warmth. Invitation.

And keep the enemy close.

"And Aileen, please, no more formalities between us, call me Travis." Then, he offered his arms for her to hold, exactly like how he had offered for evening strolls with his grandmother and with his mother.

"Thank you, Travis. You have some amazing manners." Aileen looped her hand around his offered arm, and an unparalleled smile bloomed across her face.

Opposite them, with her eyes on the floor, Melissa only felt a deep pity for Travis.