by Nick Braker
Magnus nodded.
“Warren is confused and we know him well enough to know he would never do anything like that,” Magnus said. “Holy hell, I didn’t catch on. I had my hands on it, man. I had the thing right in my fucking hands.”
They searched the area for several moments but they both knew the alien was long gone. Both men returned to the SUV and found Warren sitting in it with his feet outside. He was rubbing his temples slowly.
“How are you feeling?” Grep asked.
Warren didn’t respond. Magnus pulled his head up to look at him.
“Tell me what happened.”
His face was deep red in embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, guys. I can’t get her out of my mind even now. It was--” he started to say. “--is powerful. I came out to check around back. I went around to that side and she came right up to me. Holy hell, she was a knockout. I’m telling you, as I sit here even now, I want to run back, find her, and get some more. At first it was all normal. I mean, she was beautiful but nothing unusual. We started talking and that’s when you found me. I literally don’t remember anything but the, uh, drive to have sex with her. Wow. That was brutally open and honest.”
“You don’t remember any action she took? Did she touch you, inject you, anything?” Grep asked.
“Well, I remember looking into those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She was smiling at me, telling me how cute I was. All normal shit. I get that a lot,” he said, joking.
“Right,” Grep said, dripping with sarcasm.
“The next thing I can really focus on was that I was going to take her to the ground right there. To hell with whoever saw us. I wanted her more than any woman I’ve ever met. Wow, she still has me, bros. I’m still not in control entirely.”
“Is your gun in your holster or in your pocket right now?” Brock laughed.
“Both.” Warren laughed, looking down at it. “Sorry about that. I really can’t do anything about it at the moment. It’s at full attention.”
“Warren, do you think she could have told you to do anything and you would have done it? Maybe even against your will? Kill someone perhaps? Was the control that powerful?” Magnus asked him.
Warren looked up at Magnus. He shook his head, unsure. He shrugged, shaking his head some more. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Man, I-- don’t know. I don’t know... maybe.”
Kron - New Mental Infusion Complex
August 21, 1987 - 8:31pm
“Shiriam, have everyone guard the door,” Katerra ordered the squad leader.
Katerra had just arrived at the new mental infusion testing center and had learned of the devotion Satirra put into her training on the new system.
She is the most devoted Omarii since myself, perhaps more so.
“You five,” Shiriam said, turning to her team. “Take up formation on the left, everyone else, stay with me on the right.”
“Do not let anyone enter,” Katerra ordered.
“Yes, my queen. As you command.”
Katerra entered the mental infusion testing center. This one was expected to replace the current, older system allowing quicker extraction from the target host. The sensory system was a major upgrade to the current one. Her scientists had added additional programming so that the system would learn the translation from one species to Kron. This was significant in that it reduced the training time for an Omarii to control their host. Katerra’s expectations were that this new system would solve the problems they had with the human hosts influencing her Omarii.
This was the first Katerra had seen of the new system. Her scientists’ progress on the system had been faster than expected. One obvious change was the point of view display did not look like a simulation anymore. In fact it looked remarkably like the other excursions they had done with human hosts. Something bothered her. This simulation seemed too real. She watched as Satirra punched a human male in the face and then it fell to the ground, unmoving.
Typical, they are such weaklings.
Katerra activated the master controls for the mental infusion system. She checked Satirra’s link status confirming that her suspicion was correct. This was not a simulation. It was live. Satirra was currently on Earth, within a human host.
Impressive. Such commitment to learning and controlling her host.
A quick glance at the logs confirmed that she had been coming in here for the past month. Satirra had logged 68 training sessions on this new system and 53 of those sessions were actual missions to Earth.
This system is not supposed to be ready for another six months.
Katerra walked around Satirra as she floated within the confines of the blue energy field. The new system still required the Omarii to be suspended in the cerulean light, naked and isolated from objects nearby. She was the only one in here. It was also designed to be fully automated, even possessing the ability to recognize thought commands for extraction. This increased the extraction process by vital seconds. This also meant that training sessions could be done without a full team. However, actual missions should still have the full complement just in case problems did occur. Satirra stopped walking, she just floated in the radiant blue light.
So much about her reminds me of myself twenty years ago.
Four human males where now visible on the point of view screen. These did not look like the skinny male Satirra had punched just moments ago.
These Earth males are taller, stronger.
Katerra let the chain of thought die, glancing back at the logs. She started reviewing the connection and feedback history. At times, they were off the charts.
This kind of feedback was only accomplished during the first Omarii connection into the system. When the system ‘learned’ of the Omarii. It was the feedback of controlling one’s body but that would mean she is becoming the host but that would be impossible.
Katerra checked the host’s connections. They were normal but then spiked as if on cue. She looked at Satirra who was now Ryikoda. She had changed to her mating form.
Inconceivable. An Omarii has never been able to transform while in a host.
Katerra initiated the extraction sequence to bring Satirra back. Twenty-eight seconds later the hum of the containment field went silent. Satirra’s back was to Katerra. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, using her hands to stabilize herself.
“Satirra” Katerra told her. “You are back with us on Kron.”
“I know,” Satirra yelled, with a growl of rage.
She jumped, rotating her body, propelling herself straight at Katerra. Satirra’s hands were out in front ready to grab Katerra’s throat.
Impressive height on that jump.
Katerra stepped forward ducking under the trajectory of Satirra’s flight, allowing herself to transform to Ryikoda. Satirra clawed at Katerra’s face, barely missing her. Katerra grabbed Satirra’s hair as she flew over. The rest of her body continued with her momentum. She flipped Satirra, slamming her on her back. Katerra landed on top of her, sinking her long fingernails into both sides of her neck before Satirra’s body was even settled.
“Submit or die,” Katerra whispered.
A look of shock formed on Satirra’s face and in a moment of sanity she allowed herself to transform back.
“Yes, my queen. Please forgive me,” she said.
Tears started flowing out of her eyes.
What is this? She is leaking from her eyes. Is this a side effect of becoming one with a human or is this just one of the symptoms all the rest of the Omarii have been showing.
The door to the room burst open allowing Shiriam and three others to rush in.
“My Queen. Do you need our assistance?” Shiriam asked.
Katerra allowed herself to relax.
“Yes, Shiriam, though everything is fine. Please bring Omarii Satirra a robe and escort her to the medical ward.”
“Right away, my queen.”
Katerra bent close to Satirra whispering again in her ear.
Satirra searched Katerra’s eyes, looking for understanding.
“Yes, my queen. As you command,” Satirra croaked.
Her voice was hoarse from the pressure still on her neck. Katerra removed her hand from Satirra’s throat, leaving five crimson marks. She stood up helping Satirra to stand. Shiriam placed the robe around Satirra, covering her naked form.
“Assign two of your best honor guards to Satirra. Keep her safe at all times and do not speak to her. Tell chief medical officer Agneta to give her a full medical examination. Also tell her that Satirra needs medical leave from her duties for an undetermined amount of time.”
“It will be done as you say, my queen.” Shiriam said, bowing.
“Also, I will wish to meet with Agneta and Satirra after her examination.”
“I will deliver the message, my queen.”
Katerra watched as Shiriam followed her orders. Satirra gave Katerra one last defeated look as she was escorted out.
Earth - New York City
August 21, 1987 - 8:46pm
Magnus sat behind Brock who was now in the SUV, keeping an eye on Warren next to him.
“I want you to let me know if things change. As soon as you feel it, say something. Cool?” Magnus asked.
Warren nodded.
“It’s fading. Even when I think about her now, it’s not so strong.”
Magnus exchanged glances with Grep directly and with Brock through the rear view mirror. They both nodded to him.
“We need to deal with the murders first but that doesn’t mean we have to ignore what just happened.” Grep said. “Beta aliens are indeed human looking and, damn it, this one was hot. I couldn’t take my eyes off her hips when we came up. She was perfect. It was more than pheromones since we were too far away to be affected by them initially--”
“Just a sec. Grep,” Magnus said. “Enter the address the manager gave you and let’s talk to this waiter. Brock, get us there fast. We’ll deal with any police if needed.”
“Hell yeah. Permission to speed accepted. Engaging hyper-drive,” Brock yelled.
The car’s tires squealed and the SUV lurched forward.
“Brock,” Grep said quietly in a semi-monotone voice. “You seem like you might actually be excited right now. I’m not sure I’m reading you right. Is that excitement or did you just have a bowel movement?”
Brock ignored him as he cut in between two cars, drove up onto the sidewalk for half a block and then returned back to the road.
“Grep, pheromones?” Magnus asked. “Do you think that was part of it?”
“Magnus, he said hyper-drive. Seriously? I think something is wrong with him.” Grep laughed but then answered his question. “Yes, Warren got the full monty, of course. Pun intended. But that creature, as you saw, was better looking than airbrushed models on magazine covers. We were affected the moment we looked at her, even from a distance. When we approached, we were affected even more. It was several factors. Her perfect form, her movements, and the pheromones. There was more, but I cannot put my finger on it yet.”
“Something else?”
“Yes,” Grep replied. “Let me think on it.”
Magnus nodded. The SUV came to a screeching halt in front of a rundown apartment building.
“You sure this is the--” Magnus started to ask but Grep glared at him. “Right, this is the place. Brock, stay with the SUV. It is a flashing neon sign that says steal me. Warren, take a break on this one. Stay here.”
Warren nodded and Brock patted his gun in his holster.
“Sure thing,” they both said.
With Grep alongside, Magnus entered the building and headed to the second floor. They found the apartment and knocked. A man answered and eventually let them in once satisfied they were from the CIA. The man was short with a full head of hair, combed neatly and parted on his left side. He wore a set of blue jeans and a Giants football t-shirt. His eyes revealed some intelligence, obviously alert and watching.
“Reynaldo? Is that your real name?” Magnus asked.
“It will have to do,” Reynaldo said. “My real name is Greg. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it when waiting on some of the world’s richest people for a living.”
Magnus waived Grep off seeing his reaction to Reynaldo’s reference to Greg.
“What can you tell us about these three men? They died Tuesday night. Murdered,” Magnus told him, handing him the pictures.
“Damn,” he said, handing the pictures back. “These were three of my best customers. Great guys except they always seemed to enjoy hanging out with call girls.”
“Hell, this might be easy,” Grep said. “You knew about their call girls?”
“Yes, they told me they work for one of the largest banks in the world. Wouldn’t give me the name, but said they didn’t have time for real relationships, so they hired high class escorts. There were a lot of them too. Different girls each week.”
“What about the two this week?” Magnus asked.
“I’ve seen them both in the restaurant a few times but they were always alone and sat at the bar. This week, they came over and sat down at Thomas, Andrew and Chad’s table. They seemed to hit it off well and I remember them leaving together. Do you think these two women had anything to do with killing them?”
“Do you know where I, uh, we can find these two women?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Were these women blond, tall, and Caucasian?”
“That’s them. Knockouts, if you ask me.”
“Were either of them wearing red stockings and matching high heels?” Grep asked.
“Yes, one of them was actually. How did you know that?”
Magnus stood.
“Thank you, Reynaldo. That’s all the questions we have for now.”
“Sure, sure. I hope you find the killers.”
They nodded and left, heading back downstairs.
“I think we have our two killers, Magnus but we’re not going to find them unless--”
“Unless they have more targets to deal with. Yeah, I hear you. They’re gone if their mission is done, otherwise, they have more people to kill.”
Grep and Magnus climbed back in the SUV. Brock had just hung up the phone.
“Who--” Magnus started to ask.
“We got them,” Brock exclaimed as he started up the vehicle. “That was the manager of the Carlyle. He said both the hookers were preparing to leave with two other regulars.”
Brock punched it and headed back to the Carlyle.
“Dudes, the manager told the waiter to delay their check, hoping to give us time to get there before they left.”
“Wait a minute, it’s not been that long. Did these two just join them at their table? We would have seen them if they were already there,” Grep asked.
“Yes, they joined the two men moments ago but they had already eaten and were preparing to leave,” he relayed.
Magnus put his hand on Brock’s shoulder.
“No mistakes, man. Hyper-drive authorized,” Magnus said, letting Brock have a little fun.
He hoped to push Brock further along by giving him the opportunity, as well as the desire, to use his augmentations.
“Hell yeah,” Brock exclaimed.
Grep and Warren put their seatbelts on as Brock punched the accelerator. He rounded a corner and watched several cars in front of him come to a dead stop. Brock cut right even more and was again driving on the sidewalk, honking his horn at the people in front of him. Several people dove out of the way while Brock deftly dodged others who didn’t move fast enough.
“Dear god,” Grep exclaimed.
“I got this, dudes.”
Brock returned to the road, bringing the heavy vehicle back into control from a fishtail as he cut back into the lane. Ahead, the light turned red and Brock floored it.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Grep yelled as he pressed his back
hard into his seat.
The SUV was doing 70 as he plowed through the intersection that already had vehicles moving through it from their green light. Brock cut left to avoid a car entering the intersection from his left side, going in behind it and avoided another vehicle from the right side. He tapped the brakes, cutting back into the oncoming traffic lane and then went left again to the opposite sidewalk. Brock slowed the vehicle and then cut back hard across oncoming traffic and into the proper lane for the street he was on. He narrowly avoided a mailbox, two cars and a traffic light pole.
Magnus gauged Brock. He measured his reactions and timing. They were going to make it. Brock hadn’t fully changed but this was a skill that was coming out in him. He enjoyed it so much, he was letting it flow, letting it give him the reactions and speed he needed to gauge, anticipate and maneuver through traffic like a professional.
“Brock, I think you’re taking it a bit too easy. I think you need to up your game a little,” Magnus coaxed.
“You got it, boss man,” he hollered. “Hell yeah!”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Warren and Grep both yelled out in sync.
They each forced themselves deeper into their seats. Grep and Warren were both wide eyed in fear and their hands were white knuckled, gripping anything they could, as they felt the SUV speed up even more. Brock flew through the next intersection, leaving the ground for a few seconds as the vehicle hit a small hill just past the traffic light. It came down and, when it did, Brock hit the brake and flew into a fishtail to make a left hand turn at the next traffic light.
“Thank god it’s at least green for us,” Grep yelled over the whine of the engine and screeching of the tires.
“Green? Am I supposed to be watching the traffic lights too?” Brock laughed.
He whooped and hollered at Grep, slapping him on the shoulder as he drove. He let loose something akin to a war cry as he slid into the turn, missing the car parked on the right side by inches and then gunned it again. The Carlyle was straight ahead and on the right just two blocks when Brock floored it once more. He reached 90 as the SUV came within a half a block of the entrance. He slammed the brakes on hard and the vehicle’s tires screeched the rest of the way. Gravity pulled the vehicle to the right in its slide since the road crested in the middle. The SUV slid into the same spot, stopping where Brock had parked it earlier, near the curb, right out front of the door to the Carlyle restaurant.