A peaceful Earth, five major powers united in global governance. An International Space Service, exploring the stars for new homes and signs of life. An ever-expanding Alternia, convinced of its own supremacy, willing to tolerate no threats, willing to acknowledge no others. A species with a history drowning in its own blood, in turning on itself, in destroying anything that seems other, in taking any excuse for a war. (That last one was humanity. Trolls are about to find out they've made a big fucking mistake.)

Your wriggling day is in three days, and while you normally celebrate this event with the apathy it deserves, this particular sweep is different. That’s because it will be your eighth sweep, and it happens to coincide with the arrival of the imperial drones. This is a milestone that every troll looks forward to with a heady combination of excitement and terror. For most trolls, when they reach their eighth sweep, they become adults. Not you. When you reach your eighth sweep, you will die.

"An immense saucer descending from the clouds and impacting the ground, as the press and through them the people of Earth looked on in shock and awe. That was the scene in California's Mohave desert two years ago today: the historic first view of the Alternian ship upon its dramatic arrival. Their ship was a refugee ship carrying a quarter million children and young adults ready to settle in almost any environment, but they washed ashore on Earth with no way to get back to where they came from. Civil liberties attorneys successfully lobbied for the Alternians' release from quarantine and in the last two years, the Alternians have become the latest addition to the population of Los Angeles." The representitives of a race of newcomers fight to give their people a home on Earth- but even without the deadly killer stalking the streets of LA, just surviving is hard enough for some. Can humans and aliens work together to build a better future? Or is it all doomed to end in bloodshed? One thing is for sure - for sixteen teenagers, this is going to be a dangerous week. AUTHOR'S NOTE: You don't have to know Alien Nation at all to read, understand or enjoy this fic!

“Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.” “What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.” The good news is that it's not sextoys The bad news is that it's a person.