The home was moving before the sun had risen. There was snow outside. The city was built around snow, the salt from the roads coated like a pox, the two rental cars. Charles could not pretend to sleep, though he tried for thirty minutes. The planned meeting time was in an hour, yet here was two of the marines in the kitchen. Edgecase and Coffee.

  “It’s a good thing we got the SUV. The little compact is actually disabling itself due to the weather.”

  “Heh…”

  “Look at this though, it’s an Aunt Shelly feed live from last night. Gonna be broadcast in an hour.”

  A screen had been turned on, there was a news feed. A women’s voice cut through the dense cold and sterile morning city air.

  “The city might grind to a halt but the ZRM does not! Civilian airline flights have stopped but reports of unrest near the pole have mobilization supported by new robotic platforms. Thallium Technical Group’s Minotaur platform will be deployed for the first time in an operational environment, along with other equipment from Zellinair, CIAS and L&H. This will be the first operational deployment of the cutting edge technology the ZRM has acquired in it’s mission to of it is intended to permit one peacekeeper to operate with effectiveness multip…”

  The newscaster was cut short. Charles rolled over on the couch. His headache made him irritable, not tired. He sought to wake up, get it over with, and considered the many regrettable things he could do by simply waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Not that Charles had a bed right now.

  “Holy Looms! They actually show the thing. That’s him!”

  “Heh… thought you might like that.”

  “The alien infiltrated the military already?”

  “So it seems. You think that’s a different machine or a copycat?”

  “Zoom in.”

  “We don’t have the right angle to get proper identifying marks.”

  “That thing is scratched up! It’s seen action.”

  “We don’t know what kind though.”

  “And they are gonna load it and fly it in the snowstorm?”

  “Yea” Edgecase had a much older and much more patient demeanor than Covfefee.

  “If I was an alien I wouldn’t”

  “Snow mostly causes human error, maybe it doesn’t cause alien error.”

  “But they had it strapped up like cargo, I bet a human is flying.”

  The voices were politely quiet, many were still sleeping and would be for another half hour to hour. Others were awake and showering, there was not zero noise in the dark little home.

  Charles looked out the civilian double pane window. His right sock was blocking half the view, suddenly he was aware of his entire leg. Dusky light from dawn brought a dim glow to the dismal and depressing looking street, salty, yet uncoated by snow. Earlybird figures in overlarge heavy coats that hid their bodies were already loitering at street corners distantly viewed. The city was right there, only beyond a baseball field. An electric car, it must have been privately owned because that model was not supposed to legally operate in inclement weather, plodded lazily along outside on the little two lane road just outside. The sky was unnotable grey. The paved earth was a plain Grey, aside from the muddy baseball field, which was brown and beaten and advertised it’s quarter inch of snow, grey on average. Cold grayness filled the neat little rental home. Radiating from the window that had no curtains. Red light bounced and reflected in the twilight from the taillights of the same electric car that stopped, then turned at the ancient and unchanging stop indicator. A simple sheet of metal anchored to the ground. For a moment it was the main light illuminating the room. Then the room was dark, and the “only light” revealed itself to be a dim lamp flooding under the door to the kitchen.

  Charles had never researched what caused headaches, but he rather suspected it was the feeling of dementia come early.

  He sat up, got a drink of water, wished he could brush his teeth and lamented his lack of toothpaste before joining the other two nerds in the kitchen.

  They didn’t have anything to say. Breakfast was pumpkin seeds, orange juice and oatmeal.

  “If the critter is going up north doesn’t that mean we should head back?”

  “That’s an Owningsburg question.”

  “The magus split us up to avoid friendly fire. I think he thinks this planet is about to enter a civil war.”

  The two marines looked at the tired oatmeal eating knight suspiciously.

  “But he sent you with us. You’re our hostage aren't you?” Edgecase was nice and blunt, kept things professional. Maybe professional was the wrong word, kept things honest, that was almost just as good, better maybe. “So is Lopin, poor boy.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Charles pondered his pumpkin seeds, the fact that Lopin was a trained martyr or that Charles himself had been picked because Charles had the highest odds of surviving social calamity was important for the marines to know. which is why they shouldn’t. The church viewed the two “Hostages” as missionaries. The mission was to prevent a promising young diplomat like Lopin from spending his life unnecessarily, Charles was the insurance against such an occurrence. The marines convenient security. So far the planet at least was behaving as the Magus predicted it would, the alien, and the syndicate military remained the odd variables.

  “It would seem we are tied to your mission, We shall aid you in everything.”

  The two marines frowned, clearly unimpressed.

  Dull light from the microwave lamp kept the room gloomy, the first rays of sunlight were peaking into a window which only viewed the neighbor's power meter and the brick wall it rested upon.

  Brick… brick in a cold world… a non-insulator. Something was wrong and Charles could not know what. Why would the city permit brick building? Especially on a syndicate world. Suddenly he realized the bricks on both sides of the window he gazed out of. The window was properly recessed, the wall was thick. Odd for cheap syndicate construction. It resembled old luddic constructions, the homes built by the path of ignorance.

  “I don’t think I’ve asked you two at the same time. You guys know any history of the planet?” Charles asked.

  The two marines seemed happy for a new subject to discuss.

  “Perfect world, high ROI, successful deployment of clone assets. I guess the folks writing the report didn’t know how bad it got. I mean I don’t know much more than you to be honest.”

  “This neighborhood reminds of the luddites.”

  “You like this home?” Edgecase responded. Covfeefe got a second helping of oatmeal.

  “I rather prefer modern construction. You don’t think this home is cold?” Charles asked.

  “It’s kinda cold, but it’s a winter, to be expected.”

  “hmff”

  The conversation ended. More men were piling into the kitchen, clearly not big enough for all seven of them despite their lack of armor.

  Briefly they discussed the intel that public news had given them.

  “Can you attatch us to whatever is going on here?” Owningsburg asked the ZRM man.

  “No way, this makes things pretty difficult I didn’t expect us to get a direct lead, are you sure that isn’t a different robot?”

  “No we can see the same scratches dings on both models.”

  “That could just be a different module.”

  “Look do you want us to hunt this thing or not?”

  “Thallium is a vendor, I’m not supposed to mess with those.”

  “We are messing, one hundred percent! bureaucracy be damned!”

  Charles looked at Lopin, the two could agree that they both felt pity for the ZRM intelligence officer.

  “Load the SUV, everything we got, mission dictates we give chase.” Orders followed immediately by Lopin and Delta

  “We can rent a second. We could a pickup truck.” the ZRM man volunteered. “I have license to find out. The truth is out there.”

  Lopin raised an eyebrow at Charles as he left the room to go pack. Clearly Lopin hadn’t expected the ZRM man to go native and join the team.

  “That’s the spirit!” Owningsburg had bright and happy eyes for a second.

  “What about a snow plow?” Big Delta brought practicality to the table.

  “The highways are well maintained, we shouldn’t need to take back roads.”

  “Wait wait we flew here!” Edgecase was concerned about the obvious issue, all the men had flown here, but were about to drive back. On account organizing a flight would take longer than driving. They clicked their little tablet computer. “Oh well I guess it makes sense, those are some nice highways.” They blinked, a little surprised that the computer was telling them that indeed driving back through a blizzard would be quicker than getting a plane ticket.

  “We are armored corps trained, all of us.” Owningsburg gestured to all of the knights and the marines. “Can you get us suits?”

  “No, that’s up the payroll from me.”

  “What can you get us?”

  “Do you really want a full list? We are burning daylight.”

  “Yes.”

  The ZRM officer gave a comprehensive and rather salacious list of all the items and services he had the authority to acquire.

  Of all of them, the only ones that interested the Marines and Knights in this moment were ammunition. Perhaps some odd vehicles and documentation that required too much lead time to be practical in this instant. They weren't trying to fool humans, nor even the alien, it was a simple logistical problem. It was being deployed at the military base they landed.

  Of all the things the ZRM officer could provide, an extra rental car with all the fixings and emergency manual overrides was a luxury, a force multiplier. The exact time the lizard mech was loaded onto aircraft and the departure time was also nice to have.

  The shade of white he turned when Owningsburg asked if they could stop the aircraft, was only put to shame by the shade he turned when asked how likely it was that the team of six men with guns could disable it by force.

  Speculation, they were hunting the lizard, and it was probably better to do so with proper armor.

  The only necessity the ZRM man could provide was a clean and encrypted line of communication to that little arctic base.

  “State your name first, keep it official.” The ZRM man advised Owningsburg “They will put you in the right channel.”

  “My name is Milder Owningsburg, I’m here to contact ZNP-3, I’m crying wolf.”

  “Crying wolf” was metaphor, it was not official code, or at least none that anyone besides Owningsburg recognized. The ZRM man made a face and gritted his well maintained teeth. The operator laughed

  “Direct Syndicate business? Don’t tell me anything, I’m a contractor I don’t wanna get fired!”

  “He can look you up!” the ZRM man hissed quietly. Owningsburg seemed unfazed.

  Edgecase, Charles and Covfeefe all stood as statues over Owningsburg as he moodily stared at the little machine transferring his voice a hundreds of miles away.

  “Don’t worry I got your recipient!” The operator reassured them, there was a courtesy click as the line transferred.

  “Mr.Owningsburg?” It was the Grand Magus, probably on a wired phone. “What’s wrong, one of my knights just rushed me this little contraption!”

  “The alien is on it’s way to your location. Right now! It was loaded onto an aircraft… two hours and seven minutes ago… we can’t stop it.”

  The Magus was silent for a few moments. The grimy audio that cut phonemes spilled back forth with a parody of his voice. “Get back as soon as possible, we are bound by fate. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Is that it Grand Magus?”

  “I wish there was more, but it has a plan and it likely knows we are here.”

  “Do you want us to stay separate?”

  “Did you give data to Johan?”

  “Who’s Johan?”

  “He should be with you?”

  Johan was the ZRM man.

  “He already has it all!”

  “We don’t know that, make sure he has it all, very important! do not leave until you are certain he has it all!”

  And the call was over.