“Damn aliens.” I cursed every single one of them.
“This is Coalition tech,” Jenkins insisted.
He was right and we both knew it. “Coalition’s worse than the cartels.” The Coalition Fleet had arrived nearly a decade ago, full of promises about alliances and cooperation. Protection. Since then, Earth’s governments scrambled to build relationships with the Interstellar Coalition of Planets, to harness the limited technology they deigned to give us, and to adapt to their view of life in the universe.
Maybe some of it had worked out all right for us humans. New energy sources. Medical breakthroughs. Earth was a probationary member, just one of nearly three hundred civilizations far more advanced than our own. We hadn’t been attacked and ‘Integrated’into the terrifying Hive collective, if they truly existed. Life pretty much went on after the Coalition introduced themselves. At least, after the panic and riots stopped. Initially, I didn’t have much of an opinion on the Coalition one way or the other.
My hopeful naivety didn’t last long. The alien criminals from someplace called Rogue 5 started showing up with their colored arm bands and allegiance to their leader, some asshole called Cerberus. We’d been told there were five Legions operating on Rogue 5. They were what sounded to me like competing biker gangs or cartels. Two Legions were run of the mill criminals with a code of honor. They only dealt in drugs and weapons, not people. One Legion played both sides of the fence and were known for their assassins. They were opportunistic criminals who also traded in intelligence. The other two, Cerberus and Siren Legion? They made our human mafia look tame. When they came to Earth, they brought new drugs. Killed people. Put alien weapons on the streets. The worst of what could be done to humanity. Disappearances had gone way up. That all started years ago. The Feds had managed to keep the truth quiet. Under control.
But this? This was new. Worse than anything I’d seen before.
I didn’t know who the victim was, or how he’d gotten the implants burned into his flesh. His charred remains weren’t exactly a ringing endorsement for intergalactic cooperation.
I exhaled sharply, shoving the thought aside. It didn’t matter how I felt about the Interstellar Coalition of Planets or their shiny, bullshit promises. My job was to find out what happened to the dead man on the floor, not get tangled up in alien politics.
“I assume we have pictures?” I knew how this game was played. Our team would collect evidence. The Feds would disappear it.
“Got video on my cell. Just in case,” Jenkins confirmed, checking his cell phone.
“Which one?” Since the day our lives had been torn to pieces, we operated a bit differently. Made some new friends. Friends that would get us both fired. Friends that would probably get us thrown in federal prison.
Neither one of us fucking cared. We didn’t have anything left to lose.
Jenkin’s eyes narrowed. “The only one that counts,” he whispered. “Already hit send.” I heard a buzzing sound, and he took a second phone from his pocket then glanced at the screen. “Text from the Chief. Says he has to call in the Feds.”
“Of course he does.” The FBI would roll in here, take everything, and do nothing. Fuckingnothing.
Just like they did when… No. Not going there. I didn’t have time to drown my sorrows in a bottle of whiskey tonight. I needed to be functional. Rational. My emotions could shut the fuck up and wait their turn.
The FBI would make sure none of this hit the news cycle tomorrow. Wouldn’t do to have the public know aliens were running around killing people, that not all of them werenice. The aliens had turned the dead man on the floor into… what… before they killed him? A machine? A cyborg? Enhanced super soldier? Was he even human to start with?
Some of the aliens looked just like us.
If the victim was one of theirs, a super-soldier, a real cyborg, why would they kill him? Was he from a rival to Cerberus? He wasn’t wearing an arm band. I’d been told all the criminal assholes from Rogue 5 wore colors, just like human gangs.
Thousands of years ahead of us in technology, and they were still wearing gang colors in outer space. I wasn’t sure if that was sad or just pathetic.
A headache throbbed behind my temples, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the body. A body that, other than char, didn’t stink. Didn’t smell dead. And he had been holding his arms upright like this for how long? Hours? Days? Weeks?
We had no idea. The warehouse was abandoned. It had been for sale for so long, the sign in the window was sun-bleached to the point where it was unreadable. The body wasn’t decomposing. No bloat. No stench. No change.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I turned my head to find…nothing. Dust particles danced in a sliver of sunlight shining into the dark interior of the warehouse from a second story window. I leaned forward, tried to see deeper into the shadows. Nothing.
“You feel like something’s off?” I asked Jenkins, scanning the rest of the room.
“Other than a man cooked to death by alien shit? Because this is not good, Ethan.” Jenkin’s eyebrows rose as he tucked both of his phones away in separate pockets and stared at me like I had two heads.
I searched the shadows again, the feeling of being watched pressing down on me like a weight. My skin prickled, every nerve on edge, but the space around us remained empty.
Bullshit. My gut was never wrong.
“Someone’s here. I can feel it.”
2
Lyra
“Someone’s here.I can feel it.”Ethan Blake stood, pulled his weapon free from its holster and then moved so his back was to the wall. Deadly intent filled his gaze as he scanned every nook and cranny, every corner, even the heavy metal beams crossing the open ceiling.
