“What do you wish to discuss?” Macauley asked the computer screen. Once again, Macauley had lured her to the same dingy apartment building. The mysterious alien entity was alone this time, her assistant Naboth off elsewhere.
At first glance, Cecilia seemed alone, too. That was an illusion, however. Through a wiretap, Sandage overheard every word, ready to assist if something untoward happened. While they doubted Macauley would try anything, Cecilia was in a dangerous part of town. Sandage refused to send her there all alone. From a hidden earpiece, she could converse with the agent.
The reason for the deception was simple: Sandage figured Macauley might be more careless with her words if she spoke with Cecilia instead of him. A simple but clever gamble, in her opinion. Contacting the streamer hadn’t been difficult. A PM with Cecilia’s name had sufficed to get the vTuber’s attention.
“You seem knowledgeable about many things.” Cecilia pulled a piece of odd metal from her pocket and placed it before the open laptop. “Have you seen this before?”
Sandage and his contacts had worked hard to find the fragment from a crashed alien ship from the ’70s. Written on its curved surface was the alien script Cecilia recognized from her vision. Unfortunately, it was only a section of the ship’s hull. Still, Dr. Gold and the other LUVOLT scientists had shown great interest in its strange, alien material.
“Hmm.” The digital being scratched her chin, peering at the fragment with open curiosity. “Is that some sort of alien language?” Macauley’s expression gave nothing away, all cheerful exuberance as usual.
“Is it from your people?” Cecilia asked, cursing when she realized she’d asked too directly.
“My people? No.” Cecilia examined Macauley’s digital face for any sign of a lie. She found none, much to her frustration. The alien was too difficult to read. “But, hmm. I wonder if I should tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Is Rose still in a coma?” Macauley asked, abruptly changing the subject. “Considering I haven’t seen her on any of my streams, I’m guessing she’s still infected with the Altair’s disease. Did LUVOLT’s director not approve of my plan?”
Cecilia reeled from the sudden change in topic. Inwardly, she fumed at the alien’s evasiveness and told herself to remain cordial, despite her feelings. “No. Director Shapley said it was too risky. He was only willing to use it as a last resort.”
“Isn’t he cutting it close? From the doctor's estimates I’ve read, Rose has only about three days left to live.”
“We realize that,” Cecilia said, her jaw tense. “Unless you’ve found a better plan in the meantime?”
“Unfortunately, no. Petrus and I still believe it’s Rose’s best chance.”
“I see.” Despair stabbed at Cecilia’s heart, knowing that Rose’s chances were getting slimmer by the second. Heck, Director Shapley might have waited too long to enact Macauley’s plan.
Sensing Cecilia’s worry, Macauley’s digital countenance softened. “Hey, it’s not over yet. Hope will get us through this.”
“Hope?”
“Yes, it’s what keeps us going, no matter how bleak things get. Do you believe in a higher power?”
“No.” What an odd question. Why would she?
“I do, and I don’t think he’s abandoned us yet. Say, how about you visit me tonight? I have a special surprise for you,” Macauley said, abruptly changing the topic again.
“What?”
“About 10, I’d say. I promise it will rock your world entirely!”
“I—I guess,” Cecilia replied, flummoxed.
“Good. See you then!” Macauley’s computer screen cut off, leaving only a black screen.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Cecilia said, feeling stupid. She hadn’t even cleared it with Sandage or anything!
“It’s fine. Whatever Macauley has to offer should be interesting,” Sandage said from her earpiece. Cecilia rejoined him in a parked nondescript van outside the apartment building. Inside its rear was a station filled with advanced surveillance equipment. On one monitor, she saw Sandage through the wire she still wore.
“I really don’t like talking with that person.” The alien’s evasiveness annoyed Cecilia to no end. Whatever. She hoped whatever Macauley had to show her wouldn’t be something stupid. She’d seen the streamer’s propensity for pranks and told Sandage as much.
Her comment earned a smile from the older man. “She has a mischievous streak, but my gut tells me she has our best interests in mind. Not that I trust her, but I don’t think she means us any harm.”
When she saw Cecilia’s skeptical response, Sandage only shrugged. “She’s like Gauss. She can’t help it.”
“Great.” It wasn’t like the Earth was threatened with extinction or anything! “Let’s hope you’re right.”
---
“It’s bright. I hate it,” Tseen Foo said, complaining as they climbed the hill. “Why must it be so bright? These eyes absorb too much light!”
As they passed a group of humans, the crowd scattered upon seeing the three figures approach. It might have been because they sensed the predators among them. But Tarazed knew it was more likely because they noticed their torn, ravaged overalls.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Tseen Foo had been overeager when he dealt with the three workmen they encountered upon entering this universe. Tarazed hoped they wouldn’t draw too much attention before they found more suitable clothing. Still, these human disguises would suffice as they searched to eliminate Rose. Their workmen’s bland appearances made blending in easy.
They passed a row of what Tarazed assumed were food services, watching as the humans babbled nonsense at each other in their loud, guttural language. He glared at them with contempt, wondering how they accomplished anything with such an ineffective means of communication.
Curious, Tseen Foo snatched a food item from a passing man and his mate, taking a bite.
“Hey, my burger!” the human protested.
But the disguised Altair ignored him, chewing on the food item for several moments before spitting it out in disgust. “And you call that food? Its nutritional value is pathetic!”
“Hey, man, I know it’s not good for you, but it tastes good,” the human replied, but Tseen Foo was already pushing past him.
“Would you stop complaining and acting out!” Denebokab snapped, finally losing his temper. “We’re trying to complete a mission here!”
“And these legs are the worst! It’s so hard to get the right balance! Can’t they grow wings or something? It’d be so much more convenient!” Tseen Foo said, ignoring his colleague. “They have the technology. Can’t they alter their DNA to something more useful?”
“Not sure,” Denebokab replied, considering. “Maybe they feel fine with their bodily structure? They’re well-tailored for their environment.”
“Hence why humanity is doomed to extinction. They smell, eat bad food, and don’t have the sense to evolve into something useful!”
Before a further argument could break out, Tarazed interrupted them. Not a single word was spoken aloud, as Tarazed found speaking actual words beneath him. “Enough. You know your mission. Gather intel about Rose of the Red Devil. When the sun sets, meet at our arrival point. Don’t cause any trouble unless your life is threatened. And get less conspicuous clothes. I don’t want to cause any incidents with the local authorities.”
“Okay,” the pair said in unison, with both their minds and mouths. As one, they broke apart for the operation.
It took some effort, but Tarazed secured unobtrusive clothes to blend in. He’d snatched them from a man distracted with a clothes-cleaning machine. They were surprisingly warm and sturdy, but Tarazed supposed that made sense for a species with weak, delicate skin lacking natural protection.
In his search for clues about Rose of the Red Devil, Tarazed wandered the human city, observing the Altair’s latest prey as they lived their daily lives. He noted they were a species that had turned their technology to making their lives easier. For example, they developed processed food to fill their seemingly bottomless stomachs. Their vehicles helped them travel in relative comfort at impressive speeds. They even carried devices to amuse themselves throughout the day. This species thrived because of its technology.
“These humans seem to need constant distraction and bustle,” Tarazed observed, wondering how this weakness might be exploited.
After some wandering around, Tarazed drew a mental map of the city. Some areas attracted many humans, while others were sparsely populated. The reason became apparent: some sections of the city catered to services humans wanted, like food or entertainment, while others were for industrial needs, such as factories or storing supplies. Since humans preferred recreational areas, Tarazed stuck to those.
When he spotted a building popular with the locals, Tarazed stepped inside. The interior was less appealing, filled with loud, boisterous sounds that hurt his ears. Somehow, the conversations were even less coherent than other human interactions. The patrons of this establishment were unusual—less lucid than others of their species. The reason soon became apparent: each human drank from cups filled with a vile-smelling liquid.
“It must be intoxicating.” Like many other species, humanity seemed fond of fermented drinks. A human at the counter tried catching his attention, but he ignored them.
“Useless.” Tarazed turned to leave, but a metal box caught his eye. It showed a man reading what was clearly news, with text flashing in a moving banner beneath him. This program must be how humans convey intelligence to each other.
Intrigued by what humans deemed important, Tarazed stood and watched. It might convey something interesting about his target. But he soon found himself disappointed. The man on the screen was talking about some trivial local matter regarding farming. Then another human discussed something even less interesting: the weather. Despite his disinterest, Tarazed kept watching.
The Altair general jerked as something bumped into him, spilling a nasty, reeking liquid onto him.
“Hey, man! Don’t stand in the middle of the room, moron!” A heavyset human said, face flushing red in agitation. “You spilled my beer.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Tarazed’s expression before vanishing. While it rankled to have filthy human beverage splashed on him, the offending human meant little in the grand scheme of the Altair’s master plan, amounting to little more than an annoying buzz. Tarazed’s stare of utter indifference didn’t change as returned to the screen.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” the human said, clearly disliking being ignored. But his words fell on indifferent ears.
“And now a quick update on Rosemary Brahe's status. The Luyten V pilot remains in critical condition after her fight with the Altair attack last week. We’ve been told she’s stable, but there is little change in her struggle against the Altair infection. The nation’s thoughts and prayers are with her as this brave hero fights the alien contamination. She is quarantined in a hidden facility for safety reasons. President Okona is planning to visit her tomorrow to discuss possible treatments with the doctors there.”
“Infected.” The word caught Tarazed’s attention. It seemed Okab’s efforts hadn’t been in vain. The Grand Intelligence need not worry about Rose of the Red Devil—she was destined to die. Even the most advanced civilizations had failed to cure the Altair’s cells. Tarazed doubted this primitive backwater could accomplish anything different.
“Then I should instruct the Grand Intelligence to begin a full assault as soon as possible,” Tarazed thought. Without the Red Devil, the humans were hopelessly defenseless. But he would destroy the weapon first, just in case another human attempted piloting it.
“I’m talking to you.” A hand shoved Tarazed, and he turned to meet the offender’s gaze. The human’s bravado faltered immediately under the weight of Tarazed’s piercing stare—an expression devoid of emotion, which yet froze him in terror. A primal fear seized the man, like he’d entered a predator’s domain.
“On second thought, don’t worry about it.” The human released a nervous laugh before scurrying away like a frightened rodent.
Tarazed remained impassive, dismissing the altercation from his mind. He, however, took quiet satisfaction as the lesser creatures scattered from his path as he exited the building. It was time to reunite with his subordinates and finalize an attack strategy. They would be pleased to learn that the Red Devil was no longer a viable threat. The pair were already waiting for him at the park. Some humans walked along paved paths, but the Altair paid them little attention.
“I found much success!” Tseen Foo declared, waving enthusiastically as Tarazed approached, radiating self-satisfaction.
“I also discovered useful information,” Denebokab said more quietly. He presented a bound collection of pages—a book. The title read Mobile Metal Heroes. “The store clerk told me this book contains all known human knowledge about giant robot combat. It should provide valuable insights into how the Luyten V fights.”
“So what?” Tseen Foo interjected, eager to one-up his colleague. “I learned that Rose is badly sick. She’s infected with Altair cells. I even got a list of local medical facilities. I say we crush them all. One of them is bound to have her in it.”
Tarazed fought the urge to groan, his patience thinning.
“Denebokab, that book you’re holding is fiction,” Tarazed kept his tone as level as possible. “None of it is real. My guess is it’s a fanciful description of what the writer imagined giant robot combat would be like.”
“What? Humans write things that aren’t real?” Denebokab’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“But that’s absurd!” He stared at the book as if it had grown limbs.
“It’s the way of lesser creatures,” Tarazed replied dismissively. “They cling to falsehoods to distract themselves from their meaningless lives.”
Denebokab, instead of showing disdain, appeared intrigued. He opened the book and began reading with open fascination.
“And as for your idea, Tseen Foo,” Tarazed continued, “it would be counterproductive. I also learned that Rose is infected with our cells, but she’s being treated in a secret facility, not a normal hospital. Your plan would only alert the humans that we’re after her and accomplish little beyond pointless destruction.”
“We could do it anyway,” Tseen Foo suggested. “It’d keep them distraught and distracted. The destruction would send terror through their tiny brains. And they’d have nowhere to tend their injured when we attack.”
“No.” Tarazed’s voice kept firm. “I have a better plan—one that’ll lead us directly to our target. The leader of this country will soon visit her. We’ll trail him, discover her location, and strike.” He allowed himself a thin smile. “As a bonus, the death of their president will plunge this land into chaos—perfect conditions for the Altair’s full assault.”
“Excellent idea, General Tarazed,” Denebokab said, briefly glancing up from his book.
“It’s serviceable,” Tseen Foo conceded, though his tone sounded disappointed. “But it’s lacking in general mayhem. Can I at least kill their president?”
“Go ahead,” Tarazed replied without hesitation. As long as they accomplished the mission, the details mattered little.
“Nice,” Tseen Foo said with a grin, his eyes alight with anticipation.
The plan was in motion. Rose of the Red Devil would die, their leader would fall, and the country would burn. Tarazed would ensure the humans learned the futility of opposing the Altair.