by Mel Odom
“Now,” Hardin said, “y’all get moving before I have to turn plumb nasty.”
Grumbling and cursing beneath their breath, the CIA agents started moving.
“A moment, Corporal,” Remington said. He stepped in front of Cody. “Your people have been running rampant through this city. That stops. Today. Now. You keep them out of harm’s way.”
“Captain.”
Remington put his finger to his lips like he was shushing a child.
“Don’t talk. You’ll just offend Corporal Hardin and he’ll feel compelled to make you respect his commanding officer.”
Hardin grinned broadly.
“When you decide you can tell me exactly what’s going on here,” Remington said, “you come see me. Then we’ll negotiate what rights and privileges you have open to you while we’re here.”
Cody swallowed hard. His eyes flickered. He clearly didn’t like being dictated to.
“I want you to stop hunting for Icarus,” Remington commanded. “We’ll find him.”
Cody opened his mouth and started to speak.
“Bad idea,” Hardin said softly. “Bad, bad idea.”
Cody’s lips flattened and became a hard, thin line.
“Do you read me, Cody?” Remington asked.
“Yes,” Cody replied, “but—”
Hardin stepped forward and rammed his rifle butt into Cody’s midsection. The CIA man doubled over and retched. Before he could fall, Hardin caught him by the jacket collar and held him up.
“The answer’s ‘Yes, sir,’ ” Hardin said. “Or ‘Yes, Captain.’ You got that?”
Cody nodded and whispered hoarsely, “Yeah, yeah, I got that.”
“Let’s hear it,” Hardin suggested.
“Yes, sir,” Cody said.
Hardin straightened Cody up. “Good. Can you stand on your own?”
Cody nodded.
“Outstanding,” Hardin said. He released Cody and stepped back. “Sir, are we done here?”
“We’re done,” Remington said. “See to it these men are taken out; then rejoin me in this room.”
“Yes, sir.” Hardin put a hand in the middle of Cody’s back and shoved him forward.
Cody glanced back over his shoulder as he stumbled down the hallway. Hardin said something to the man and he turned his eyes forward.
Watching the agent, Remington knew he’d probably made an enemy for life. But that was fine. During his climb to his captaincy, he’d made more than a few enemies. One more wasn’t going to matter.
Turning back toward the security office, Remington caught sight of Goose standing at the other end of the hallway. Silently, the captain cursed himself. Goose had seen everything, and he could tell from the set of Goose’s body and his small frown that the first sergeant didn’t approve. Over the years, they’d butted heads several times while serving together.
You’re not looking for approval from him, Remington reminded himself when he felt a twinge of guilt over the free hand he’d given Hardin to act. When you first put on lieutenant’s bars, you stepped up past First Sergeant Goose Gander. You don’t answer to him. You never have.
“I thought I gave you an assignment, First Sergeant,” Remington said in a loud voice.
“You did, sir,” Goose responded. “On my way now. I just thought there might be a problem, sir.”
“There’s not a problem here that I can’t handle.”
“No, sir,” Goose said. “I guess there’s not. Sir.” He turned and walked away.
But you, Remington thought at Goose’s back, you’re going to turn out to be a problem, aren’t you, Goose? The captain took in a deep breath and released it.
Normally during situations of high stress, he and Goose remained on the same page, reading each other’s thoughts. That was why Remington had temporarily bumped Goose up to the unofficial role of second in command of the unit during the Sanliurfa occupation.
But the Icarus issue had divided them. Remington didn’t know how that had happened, but he knew it had. It remained to be seen how big a rift that issue put between them.
Gathering his thoughts, Remington turned and faced the CIA agent, Winters, in the security room. Defeat colored the man’s face. Watching his superior get manhandled so easily hadn’t generated any feelings of confidence about his current state.
Remington strode into the room and stopped in front of the man.
“Winters, is it?”
The CIA agent nodded.
“I’m going to conduct an interview, Winters,” Remington said. “I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer them.”
Winters licked his lips. “If I can.”
Remington regarded the man. “If you can’t, Mr. Winters, neither of us is going to be happy about that.”
United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
Local Time 2249 Hours
Guilt hammered at Joey as he gazed around the room with new understanding. They weren’t supposed to be there. They hadn’t been invited. They were trespassing. If the police caught them, they would go to jail. That thought filled him with cold fear. He couldn’t believe Derrick and the others could sit there so calmly.
“You weren’t really of this world when you got here, were you?” Zero asked in a soft voice. His gaze remained riveted on Joey.
“Didn’t remember breaking in,” Joey admitted.
Zero shrugged but maintained eye contact under the stark ridge of brow over his blade of a nose. “Lotta people ain’t home now, Joey. Got a lotta places we can go that nobody needs any more.”
“The police—”
“The police,” Zero said in a harsher voice, “aren’t a problem. You think they’re going to leave the supermarkets and gasoline-storage areas and airports to come looking for guys smart enough to find themselves a place to stay during all the chaos going on out there?”
“Especially teenagers.” Bones took another drink from the bottle. “We got a right to find food and shelter for ourselves. And we ain’t hurt nobody.”
“The people who lived here,” Zero said, “don’t need this home anymore. We found their clothes in the big bedroom. Pajamas lying on the bed. They disappeared in their sleep just like a lot of other people.”
Joey glanced around the room. Family pictures on the mantel over the fireplace showed at least three generations. A picture of Jesus Christ hung above them, His hands together as He looked up. As Joey gazed at the picture, he knew a moment of peace, but the confusion inside him won out as soon as he took his eyes off the painting to see the confusion around the room.
“Do you understand what I’m talking about, Joey?” Zero’s voice held a hint of warning.
“Yeah,” Joey said, knowing he could give no other answer.
Zero smiled. “Good. You might just survive this thing.”
“Did you find out what was causing the disappearances?” Joey asked. He knew Zero kept up with the news. Somehow, if he knew who the mysterious enemy was, he felt certain he would feel better about the whole situation.
“No,” Bones said. “There’s all kinds of people on television making all kinds of claims about who did this. A lot of them don’t believe the president when he says that Russia wasn’t behind it. I mean, who else has that kind of tech?”
“China,” Maxim said, “for one. North Korea for another.” He was normally quiet, always watching. Zero and the others adopted him into the group because he was so knowledgeable about games and game systems. He had a habit of sitting around flicking disposable lighters, watching the flame for a moment, then blowing it out.
Zero was the oldest of the group at nineteen or twenty, but Maxim was second in line. He wore thick glasses, black button-up shirts, and long hair. He never discussed the three scars on the right side of his face, but Derrick had told Joey that Maxim’s dad, an ex-convict, had given him the scars when he was ten.
Dropper shifted on the couch. He was the biggest of the group at six feet four. Solid and heav
y, he was built like a Mack truck. Closecropped blond hair framed a round face that at first glance looked innocent. But there was little that was innocent about Dropper.
Joey thought Dropper’s name might have actually been Tony or Anthony or Andrew, but no one called him by that name. His father was a cop, but he lived with his mom and ended up getting kicked back and forth between his parents. Everybody called him Dropper because when he fought he usually dropped his opponents after a few punches.
“You guys are forgetting a basic thing,” Dropper rumbled in his deep voice. Joey had learned the big youth had a keen and incisive mind, despite his slovenly looks.
“What’s that?” Bones asked in a challenging manner.
Dropper swiveled his attention on Bones. The slender youth drew back into himself as if trying to fade into the couch.
“We have that kind of technology too,” Dropper said. “The United States government. What’s going on out there, it could just be the result of something the U.S. government did. Of course, we wouldn’t want to claim it was us.”
“I think you’re all wrong,” Zero stated.
All of the others, Joey included, looked at Zero. During the past few days, Zero had kept to his own counsel, volunteering no idea of what he thought caused the disappearances or how he felt about them. If Zero had lost anyone, no one knew it.
“Okay,” Bones said. “I’ll bite. What caused all the disappearances?”
“Aliens,” Zero stated.
Of all the explanations Joey had heard, that one was the dumbest. Still, he remained quiet. No one ever argued or disagreed with Zero; there were stories about people who had that and ended up getting their heads busted.
“Aliens,” Bones repeated. Maybe he’d drunk enough that he wasn’t thinking straight, which Joey knew was possible, or maybe he’d grown braver about his responses since he’d accompanied Zero full time for the last three days.
“You have a hearing problem?” Zero demanded.
Bones quickly held his hands up. “Nope. Not me. Just, you know, trying to get around the whole aliens-concept thing.” He paused. “Kind of out there, don’t you think?”
Zero fixed the other youth with a cold stare. “You don’t believe me, Bones?”
“I’m just thinking, you know, that maybe if it was aliens that did this, we’d know by now.”
“Not if they didn’t want us to,” RayRay said nervously.
“The air force would have seen their ships,” Bones replied.
Shut up, Joey thought, looking at the dark anger that filled Zero’s hard-planed face. Quit while you’re ahead.
“Cloaking devices,” RayRay said. “Air force wouldn’t have seen them if they’d had cloaking devices.”
“They’re not Romulans,” Bones insisted.
“We got cloaking devices.” RayRay tried valiantly to battle Bones’s arguments. “Got them spy planes and boats that radar can’t detect.
Ain’t so hard to believe that somebody would figure out how to do it in outer space. I mean, aliens are from outer space, for crying out loud. They’re going to know lots of stuff.”
Maxim and Dropper gazed at Bones with avid interest. Even Derrick seemed hypnotized by the possibility of impending violence.
And Joey knew that was going to happen. Zero wouldn’t put up with anyone challenging him. Not even Bones.
Bones blinked, suddenly aware of Zero’s intense scrutiny. His survival instinct kicked in. “Oh,” he said hoarsely. “Cloaking devices. Yeah, I guess that could be it.”
Tension hung in the room for a moment.
“Why aliens?” Dropper asked.
“Because I can’t figure out who else would do something like this,” Zero answered. “I’ve turned this thing over in my head every which way. You see, something this big goes down, you gotta look for the angle. What the prize is. The people who have the most to gain from something like this.” He nodded to the television. “I’ve been watching the news.”
Joey remembered the other nights they’d stayed in other homes. Zero had watched the news then, too.
“The way I figure it, nobody has anything to gain by disappearing so many people all at once.” Zero lit a fresh cigarette. “The whole world is in chaos. Sure, maybe the president and his flunkies will be able to get everybody back up to speed in a few days, but look at everything that’s been lost: airports, airplanes, buildings.” He shrugged and blew out a cloud of smoke. “People.”
“Assets,” Dropper said.
Zero smiled. “Exactly. You figure the United States is getting ready to take over Russia or one of those other countries, the last thing they’d do is cripple themselves. Right?”
“Right,” Bones answered.
Joey wasn’t so sure. He was still leaning toward the accidental use of a superweapon himself. Some kind of new weapon of mass destruction that no one had ever heard of. He didn’t know what, but that theory beat the alien thing all to pieces. Weapons were part of his everyday life at Fort Benning, but he’d never seen a single extraterrestrial.
“That leaves aliens,” Zero said. He held up a hand. “Now I know you want to ask: Hey, Zero, if it’s aliens that did this, why haven’t those aliens come forward and made their demands?”
That, Joey thought, was only one hole in Zero’s theory.
“It’s because they don’t know how to talk to us,” Zero said. “All these video games we play? In those games the aliens already know our language.” He made his voice deep. “‘Die, Earthling.’ ‘I’m going to disintegrate your world.’ Like Marvin the Martian or something. But that ain’t how it would be in the real world.”
A real world of aliens, Joey couldn’t help thinking. But he saw the avid fire in Zero’s black eyes and knew the youth was consumed by his idea. Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it was something else. Over the last three days, Joey had seen Zero taking pills as well as drinking. He couldn’t remember seeing Zero sleep this whole time.
“I mean,” Zero said, “when the Spanish went over and conquered the Mexicans, they didn’t know their language either. Right?”
The Spaniards hadn’t conquered Mexicans, Joey knew. They’d conquered the Aztecs and Incas.
“What they did,” Zero continued, “is demolish the Mexicans, then teach them their language. So they could talk. Tell them what they wanted and stuff.”
“That’s right,” Bones said. “They came over and wiped out the Incas and—and—the Mexicans.”
“Right,” Zero said, warming to the subject. “They taught them their language and made them their slaves. That’s what’s going on now.”
Joey seriously doubted that, but he didn’t dare voice an objection. This was something scarier—something worse—than that.
“What would have to happen for the aliens to take over,” Zero said, “is that the aliens would have to make a statement. A show of force. Prove to the world leaders what they can do.” He waved a hand. “All this stuff that’s happened, you think there aren’t believers in aliens out there now?”
Everyone waited.
“There are believers,” Zero said. “And I bet the president and some of the others are just waiting for first contact. Only the aliens are going to do some recon first. Same way we do when we team-play Maelstrom Force. Get the lay of the land, so to speak, before you risk a lot.” He smiled. “But you know what else they’re going to do?”
“What?” Bones was totally into his supportive mode now.
“They’re going to want to make contact with earthlings that they can deal with,” Zero answered. “Guys who can give them information about stuff, and who can talk to the rest of the world for them.”
“Negotiators.” Bones’s voice held a note of awe, and he smiled broadly.
“Right.” Excitement rattled through Zero. He pushed himself to his feet with an effortless flexing of muscle. The rumor was that he had been some kind of big-deal martial arts student before he dropped out of the dojo. “But it’s going to be more than just n
egotiators. Those people who talk for the aliens? They’re going to be ambassadors in a whole new world.”
Uneasiness wormed through Joey as he watched Zero. The kid had totally wigged out. Whatever grasp of the situation, of reality, he’d had until this point was gone.
“So you know what we’re going to do starting tonight?” Zero asked.
Dropper cracked his knuckles.
No one said anything. Joey figured they were all scared to voice any opinion on the matter.
Zero hissed in exasperation. “We’re going to look for the aliens. C’mon. This isn’t brain surgery here.”
“Okay,” Bones said nervously. “Say we find these aliens. Before anybody else finds them. Including the military. What then?”
“Then,” Zero said, pacing the floor, “we offer our services. In exchange for being made ambassadors.” He grinned. “That’s the angle, guys. You always gotta try to cut a piece of the action for yourself. Otherwise you’re always the guy getting beat up.”
Nobody looked excited about the prospect. Joey felt even sicker at his stomach.
“The whole find-the-alien thing,” RayRay said. “You know, maybe that won’t work out like we’re thinking it will. I mean, maybe these alien dudes won’t exactly be friendly. They could be figuring that they can do the whole thing themselves.”
“Yeah,” Bones added. “If we find ’em, they might try to make us part of the examples they leave behind.”
“Right,” RayRay said. “Like that alien psycho dude in Tormentor of Thraxtor did to all his victims. You know, when he chopped off the heads of those guys, put them on pikes, and used them to line the walls of his fortress to warn everybody else away.”
The Tormentor of Thraxtor was a video game that had enjoyed several weeks of fame at Cosmic Quest. Bloody and vicious, it had attracted the attentions of most of the teenage boys in the metro area. It had also received a special note of condemnation from one of the local papers. Of course, the condemnation only served to increase the game-playing public’s awareness of and interest in the game.
