Tales of Arrival

“Victim’s name is Terrence McKee, a tech CEO, for Artemis Rocketry Solutions. Vanished around the corner of the alley with security tailing just a half block behind. Security was standing off by Mr McKee’s request.”

“Did we get CCTV?” Caleb March asked the beat cop, while attempting to rub a headache out of his skull. He had gone too hard the night before, he recognized, but nothing to be done now.

“No sir, no working cameras in the area.” The officer replied, he pointed to a nearby camera, “That one has been dead since the 14^th. Hell, Brooklyn is almost entirely a dead zone but most are smashed not unplugged.”

March nodded, “This place has gone to shit since the riots.” He breathed in deeply, trying to clear his mind for the job, and immediately regretted it as the smell of urine and old alcohol filled his nostrils.

“As you say, sir.” The officer replied, standing straight, shoulders tensed like a soldier at attention.

March shook his head at the rookie and asked, “Now what exactly was Mr. McKee doing here? Any ideas?”

“Security guard says he woke up in the middle of the night and demanded to be driven here. Drug deal, perhaps?”

“I think someone as rich as him wouldn’t need to go to a literal dark alley to get his next fix. Not himself anyway, he’d send someone. I’m thinking more likely it’s a publicity stunt, he pretends to be kidnapped to draw up attention to his business.” The detective crouched down while talking, looking for anything out of place.

“He could be one of the crazies, sir.” The cop stated plainly.

 “You don’t know what you’re saying, been watching too much TV. Our victim is probably up to, or was up to, something shady. Something that requires going to a dark alley in the middle of the night. Something important. ” He pulled out his flashlight and shone it under a nearby garbage bin.

“Looking for a prostitute and wandered into the wrong corner?”

“Nah.” March crinkled his nose, reaching under the dumpster, “Guys like him would have access to a better selection. What do you make of this?” He held up a closed, half full bottle of beer that he had rolled out from underneath the dumpster with his gloved hand.

“Looks…” The officer made a disappointed sigh and visibly relaxed a notch, “Looks like trash, sir.”

“Ok, so, we’ve got a nice little nest here right? Some cardboard laid out on the ground to sleep on, a few empty bottles thrown loose into the top of the dumpster and a book, hidden right underneath, next to a half-drank bottle of Colt 45. Now to me, that says someone’s living in this alley.”

“Wouldn’t be surprising, lots of people from the blast zone trying to avoid the refugee camps right now, they’ve been trickling in for a week. Besides the crazies, means a lot of new people on the streets. Most haven’t caused problems yet, I don’t think that…”

“No, no, no.” March waved his hand dismissively, “I’m not saying our vagabond kidnapped or killed Mr. McKee, I’m saying what’s the number one thing you’re not going to waste, if you can avoid it, while out on the streets?” The officer gave him a blank look and March waved the bottle at him, “Alcohol. If life is shit you want your alcohol. I swear to god, where do they find you guys? Someone was living here, has a little corner all to themselves even with entertainment, but something made them leave a half of their beer out and their book under the dumpster.”

“Maybe they saw the suspect?”

“Maybe they saw the suspect.” March felt like he was explaining math to a kindergartner, “Sargent!” He called towards one of the officers on the perimeter, as the woman approached, he asked, “Has anyone been poking around since we got here? Maybe even tried to get into the perimeter?”

“Yeah, there was one guy, Midwestern fellow, we have him in the drunk tank to sober up. Guy was off his ass trying to get in before you got here, detective.”

“I got to talk to him.” March started to walk towards his car, eager to get out of the alley. He felt a cool breeze wash over him, a welcome change to the sweltering heat.

The sergeant stopped him short, “First.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at a man in a suit standing nearby. “He wants to talk to you.” Her tone told March she was quite irritated about this man.

“Ah, yes, well.”  March sighed out, “better not keep the good agent waiting.” He gave a false smile.

The man in the suit was clearly trying to present an air of calm and control, like he owned the scene. The deep creases under his bloodshot eyes and the wadded-up tissue paper in his breast pocket all betrayed his efforts thoroughly, “Detective March, a word?” even his voice was exhausted.

“Of course, agent. I was expecting you boys would show up.” March clapped the man on the shoulder, which provoked a frown, and motioned for him to follow down the street.

Once they were out or earshot of the cops, the agent pulled the tissue from his pocket and dabbed the sweat from his brow. Everyone was suffering to some degree in the heat and the agent bore it poorly, the only saving grace was that soft chill breeze,  “My name is Special Agent Harold Adelman.  I’m with the FBI.” The agent produced a business card from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to March who pocketed it without a glance. “Your investigation is of interest to the Bureau.”

“So.” The detective leaned against the brick wall they had been walking beside and produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. “You here to take over the case? I mean, we never like it when you do, but we can’t stop you and…” He took a cigarette from the pack and offered one to the agent who declined with a furrow of his brow and a shake of his head, “Well, fuck. We’re overworked and understaffed. We don’t really care right now.”

“No. We are…” he sighed, “do you mind?” The man wore an incredulous expression as March lit the cigarette despite him.

“I do actually, yes.” March took a long drag, blowing the smoke only loosely away from the agent.

“We are not claiming jurisdiction. Frankly…” The man sighed again and held out his hand, which March placed a cigarette in, “Frankly, so are we. We’re swamped worse than I’ve ever seen.” He regarded the cigarette with longing for a moment before lighting it and taking an taste, “Goddamn you.” He said quietly, “I haven’t had one of these in five years. Five goddamned years and two weeks of this shit and here I am.”

“Like soldiers in a war.” March’s voice was slow and ponderous, “So, not claiming the case?”

“You’ll report to us, and only us, for a while. Consider me your handler.” He took a long drag off the cigarette, held it in and then exhaled slowly, almost sensually, “This case is important, but we just don’t have the people to spare for it, so you are ours for now.”

“I’ll try not to pull at the leash too hard.” March quipped.

“Don’t be like that. You’ve got your regular people, your same office, I’m not giving you orders…”

“yet.”

“Not giving you orders yet, just want you to work with us, that’s all.”

March sighed, “I don’t suppose I have a choice?”

“Not at all.”

“Why?” he held up a finger as if pinning the question, “Why is this case so important that you want reports but not important enough to take over directly? Some rich asshole goes missing, I get that being your case, but right now? No offense, but you guys have a lot on your plate.”

“That’s classified.” Harold sighed and shook his head.

“Seriously? Come on, I thought we had some comradery going on here.”

“Very classified.”

“Ahhh.” The detective stretched the sound out into a breath, “so you think this is connected to the…” March motioned vaguely around with his finger.

“Very. Classified.” The agent took another hit of his cigarette and joined March in leaning against the wall, “I wish I could give you all the details, I really do. Top brass wants this locked down tight while spreading a large net, makes for a frustrating compartmentalization of information. You’re a detective, put the pieces together. I can’t stop you from figuring it out, I just can’t tell you.”

“Ill keep an eye out for any little green men with big eyes. Might be our suspect.” March raised his eyebrows and looked at the agent with mocking anticipation.

“Funny.” The agent replied dryly and finished his cigarette, brushing it against the wall and letting the butt fall to the sidewalk, “Still classified. Speaking of, I’m due to play keeper for several more people. Are we done here?” the agent stood.

“No questions, I’ll send you my report when I have it.”

“One last thing, detective, off the record; do yourself a favor and pick up a pair of infrared goggles. You’ll thank me later.” Before March could interject, the agent concluded, “Notify me immediately if you find anything.” The agent nodded severely, eliminating any chance for clarification and walked away down the street.

A short drive later and March arrived back at the station. The techs were going over the scene and worked better without interruption, he had learned. The station was crowded with people, as it had been for nearly a week now, ever since the comet had delivered its cargo to the surface. Receptionists argued with civilians in the lobby, all of them clamoring to report various crimes or fears. He overheard a few claiming they had seen “it” only to be given a card with the number to the hotline and told to leave. March was glad he didn’t have that job, either the receptionist or the hotline operator for that matter. He pushed his way through the crowd, getting a few angry glares as he went. He knew he should’ve gone in through the back, but old habits died hard.

“Officer! Or detective! Whoever you are, you have to listen to me!” A young man grabbed March’s shirtsleeve and shouted into his ear.

“Hey!” the detective slapped the boy’s hand away and glared at him, “Hands off.”

“I saw it! I know a lot of people are saying that, but I really did! I swear I saw it! Over in the industrial district!”

“Did it have a little ray gun and ask to see our leaders too? Come on kid, go home.”

“You know they’re here! We all saw it on TV! Why are you all acting like it’s not happening?” the boy shouted and his voice broke, tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

“Call the hotline. Not our problem.” He finished and moved through the secure door into the station with a satisfying clack of the door behind him. Is that my problem, He wondered. No, it was too ridiculous, absurd even, to think that literal aliens were under his purview.

The room behind the door was one of several office spaces in the station. Dozens of people worked at their desks as others moved quickly around, distributing papers and checking the information boards and screens that dotted the walls. In one corner of the room was an older television set to a constant backdrop of the news. The story was currently on something to do with the skirmishes in the Pacific, but the detective didn’t care to stop and listen, he had work to do.

He walked up to the desk opposing his own and slapped the man sitting here on the back, sending him spinning around in his chair in surprise.

“Late night?” Detective March quipped as he walked around the desk to his own, noting the dark circles under the younger man’s eyes.

“Yeah, little bit.” he pursed his lips, “Some of us have social lives.”

“Hey, hey, now.” Caleb held his hands out in mock surrender, “Am I not allowed to ask about my partner’s well-being?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”  He replied, sliding some papers unceremoniously to end of his desk, “what do you want?”

“We have a case. Rich guy went missing with security right behind him. In Brooklyn.”

“Fuck me, March, isn’t that someone else’s job? A hooker goes missing that’s us but I don’t want to wind up responsible for not finding someone important. You know the odds in these cases aren’t great.”

“We’re on the leash with the feds.”

“Fuck, FBI?”

“Yeah, ee’re reporting to them.” March ran a hand through his short thinning hair.

Langley leaned forward holding a finger out, “Then we can’t fuck this up. What do we have?”

“Jack shit, to be honest, got a drunk in the tank that might know something.”

Langley joined in the sigh, now a communal expression, and replied, “Then we’d better get to whatever leads we have.”

The two walked down to the holding area together in silence. Word had been sent ahead to have the witness moved to an interrogation room. The corridors were busy and March had better things to do than to talk to his partner. He wasn’t sure what tasks were, exactly, but he was sure he had them.

March slid into a chair in front of the man, a steel table, bolted to the floor, sat between them. The man was a bearded fellow with bright but distant eyes and the smell of alcohol still on his breath. Langley stood behind March, crossing his arms and puffing up his chest. “So.” March opened the folder before him and looked over the man’s information, “Chuck Redding. 57. Father of three but divorced, live in Scottsbluff, Nebraska according to all records…”

“I didn’t see anything, don’t have anything to say, just let me go I haven’t done a dang thing wrong.” The man blurted out in a strong Midwestern accent.

“Now that’s awfully defensive for someone who has nothing to say, don’t you agree?” March cast a glance at Langley who responded with a frowning nod.

“Look, look, look, I’m just a bit down on my luck, what with the blasts.” Chuck fidgeted in agitation, “but no sir! I didn’t see a thing, you can count on me for that, I won’t say a thing… er, not that there’s anything to say, of course.”

Langley and March shared a glance, their eyebrows raised, “do you… think we want you to stay quiet? We’re not trying to suppress this, we’re trying to get to the bottom of the case, find our missing man.” Langley said after a moment, squinting at the witness.

The man shook his head, his fingers starting to scratch mindlessly at his hands, “Well, you lot are suits, right? Government folks, FBI or something, right? I’m a good citizen, sure not an ideal one, but I know my duty to my country, I served a tour in Iraq! My lips are sealed, no need to disappear me.” The man pronounced the word Iraq like ‘eye rack’ and made a zipping and locking motion over his mouth.

“My guy, you have the wrong idea. We’re NYPD, not federal agents. We’re just looking for some information on the suspected kidnapping of Mr. McKee. We would really appreciate if you would talk to us.” March clarified, shaking his head and holding back a laugh.

“Now I support my boys in blue but y’all have gone too far! Don’t go sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong!” The man crossed his arms and glared at the detectives.

“We have a mandate from the FBI! They told us to…” Langley bit the words off and shook his head.

“Chuck, we have you on a count of public intoxication, vandalism and…” March checked his notes, “the bag full of suspected stolen goods we found you with. Now we don’t really care about those, we just want to know if you saw anything.”

“Well. That changes things.” He gave a quick nod, “and those are legitimate scavenging, from the blast zone.”

“That’s… still a crime.” Langley kneaded his brow with his hands, momentarily overtaken by the man.

March motioned for Langley to calm down and said to the man, “So, then you’ll tell us what you know?”

The man sighed and lowered his head, “I’m not supposed to.” He looked up at March with pleading eyes, “They said I’ll… I just ain’t supposed to say.”

“Who told you not to say?” March asked, squinting his eyes and drawing his hands up in a motion like prayer, elbows to the table, his fingers to his lips.

“The suits. Not you guys, the ones who came to me, I don’t..” he trailed off and darted his eyes about as if reading something invisible, “I don’t think they exist. They came to me in a dream.”

March and Langley both involuntarily straightened up, “And what did they tell you?”

“They said… they said it was ‘critical to the country’ that I not speak about any of this. They said… they said they would kill me if I told anyone.” He sighed and placed his head in his hands, “I’m not crazy. I know some feds coming into my dreams to tell me to be quiet isn’t exactly sane, but I know what happened. I know my mind ain’t what it used to be, what with all the drinking, but I’m not crazy.”

“We’re not saying you are.” Langley comforted, visiblt suppressing a desire to place a hand on the man’s arm, “We do need to know, we can place you in protective custody, you’ll be made comfortable and safe.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes.”

The man thought for a long moment. After a while, he nodded, a few tears at his eyes, “Alright, your man vanished, right? You don’t know the half of it. I was sitting there, enjoying my beer, and I see this man walk down the alley. He’s your man, I assume, rich looking, with a nice suit on and well groomed and all that. He looks scared, like he’s not sure where he is. Now I’m a good guy, was going to ask for a few bucks in exchange for guiding him back wherever he needed. He sees me and stares, though, this look like he thinks I’m the most incredible thing he’s ever seen; then this cold wind comes down the alley, like real cold, lake effect type shit. His eyes go wide, like someone had just stabbed him from behind, and just like that…” he made a motion with his hand like something blowing away in the wind, “He’s just gone, not like walked away, but gone like he never was there.”

March stared in incredulity, “Just… Vanished, like what, he got teleported like in star trek?”

“No sir, no weird little glow, no sound, he never made a sound but footsteps, he just vanished in the wind.” The man relaxed his shoulders, like the weight of the event had been lifted by telling it.

“When did the dream happen?” Langley asked, March gave him a ‘what are you doing?’ glance.

“A moment after he vanished. Just overtook me, I don’t think I even slept, just a dream.”

“I think that’s what we need.” March declared casually, “We’ll have you released.”

“Now hold on! You said protective custody!” the man shouted and stood up, “What about the suits!”

“We can’t stop bad dreams.” March took the folder and walked towards the door.

“March…” Langley protested.

“Come on, let’s go.” March waved and opened the door, the man sobbing behind him.

Once out in the hallway Langley stopped March’s walk and glared at him, face twisted into anger, “March, what the actual fuck? That man is terrified, and he gave us good information, don’t just throw him back out onto the street!”

“Don’t tell me you buy that crap? Guy was high, saw our man and his mind did the rest, you saw him.” March dismissed the man and his partner both with a wave of his hand.

“March. We know they can go invisible, you know this. We all saw the video.” March was the first to break eye contact, looking down at his shoes, “Just because you’ve decided this isn’t happening doesn’t mean it’s not.”

“People commit crimes.” March condescendingly replied, putting a hand on Langley’s shoulder, who brushed it off, “Not aliens, not monsters. Let the news focus on them, we have actual work to do.”

“I’ll ask to be reassigned.” Langley stated, still staring at March’s wandering eyes that suddenly refocused on him as he spoke.

“No, come on, you’re not serious.” March smiled but his face looked worried.

“Give him protective custody. I don’t care if you want to live in denial, but protect that man and I’ll stay.”

March bit his lip and grimaced, “Fine, we’ll keep Mr. Dreamer for a bit.

Langley sighed in relief and started to walk down the hall again, “So what next?”

“We follow the lead, Man was a tech CEO, let’s see if his company was working on invisibility. Maybe it is a publicity stunt after all.”

The headquarters of Artemis Solutions was upstate and it was late, so the two decided to investigate there in the morning. March sat at his desk to fill out the myriad pieces of paperwork that being a cop entailed.

An aide brought him the infrared goggles he had requested, a bulky item that looked like a pair of binoculars with a eye piece and a strap attached. March regarded them for a long moment before leaving them on his desk. The office television was the news discussing the spate of missing people across New York without mentioning March’s case. The department had been careful to keep McKee’s status quiet, the media was sure to whip up a frenzy about the case once the news broke. Why couldn’t he have one of those cases, he thought, the small ones, it would be a hell of a lot easier. Just one more person gone into the pit that his once beloved neighborhood had become.

March went over the notes again for McKee as the station slowly cleared out at the end of the day. Married with no kids, the wife was an option to check, March thought. Started off building wooden planes in his garage as a kid, made enough starting a model company, still technically a subsidiary of Artemis Rocketry, that he went to pursue his real dream, space. He’d been a quiet figure, for a billionaire, not publicly notable, not controversial, not hardly known by the average person. He quietly made rockets for the US and even was contracted to service parts of the space shuttles when they were active. His net worth was 2.1 billion dollars, more than March could ever imagine, but not as much as some of the mega-rich. No known scandals, no known enemies, just some rich guy making rockets.

March scratched his head, it didn’t make sense. He didn’t seem the type for a publicity stunt, but then why kidnap this man? Ransom, personal dispute, hatred of the rich were all possibilities, but then there was the witness. He shrugged and pushed off his desk, sending his chair wheeling backwards and ending the thought.

“You heading out?” Langley asked, looking up from his opposing desk with weary eyes.

“Going to go get a drink, this case isn’t sitting right, you coming?”

“No thanks, I don’t drink on weekdays anymore.” March knew it was a lie, but accepted the excuse.

“Suit yourself.” March nodded and stood, gathering his jacket from the rack, slinging it over his shoulder and heading out of the station.

He walked through the rain outside. A storm has blown in while he was inside and now thunder clapped in the distance. People ran about, looking to avoid the downpour, but March just walked calmly as the rain slid down his sealed jacket. He made his way to his home, a third story apartment overlooking nothing at all but a street and a tree.

Inside, March sighed and opened up a bottle of nice whiskey he had been saving for a special occasion. There was nothing to celebrate, but he had no desire to brave the rain again to make his way to the shop for something cheaper. He sat in his lonesome chair before the television and flipped mindlessly through the channels, his eyes glazing over as sci-fi nonsense and equally nonsense news reports flashed by. He finally settled on a rerun of House.

As the good doctor theorized about his patients, March opened up his briefcase to fetch the case notes. Inside the case was sitting the goggles, March didn’t remember placing them there. He stared at them for a long moment, trying to figure out when the device had found its way into his case. He eventually shrugged and set them aside by his bottle of whiskey, now a quarter gone.

He flipped through the case notes between swigs from the bottle. None of the case made sense; the man didn’t fit the profile for a publicity stunt, didn’t have any outstanding enemies, Langley had interviewed the man’s wife and found no reason for suspicion. March looked over at the goggles, pondering an alternative explanation, before reaching for the bottle again instead.

Who would want to target a rocketry CEO? Some disgruntled ex-employee? Maybe an activist against the ultra-rich, a former BSDC member perhaps? The radical group had briefly seized Brooklyn during the riots in a very dark few days filled with gunfire and blood. Once the smoke had cleared thirty people were dead and the BSDC had been shattered by the national guard. It had only been two weeks ago and the leadership had vanished in the chaos, taking some of their members with them. He thought about it, but it didn’t track for a quiet abduction, the BSDC would have gunned the man down and made a statement out of it, probably adding some spray painted slogan claiming responsibility.

He sighed and placed the bottle back on the table and picked up the goggles. He was pondering them with swaying hands when a knock came at the door. It was late, at least 1am, and he wasn’t expecting visitors. March tucked his sidearm into his waistband at the back and moved to answer the door as another, more persistent knock came.

He opened the door, having to try twice to get his hand to actually latch onto the handle, “What do you want, do you know what time it is?” He said to the three black clad men on the other side.

“Detective March, we need to have a discussion.” The lead, a serious faced middle-aged man with a well trimmed goatee stated as he moved into the room without asking so much as permission, pushing March to the side.

“Now hold on there, I didn’t say you could come in.” March slurred out, “hey stop!” he shouted to the men as they moved in and began to look around his meagre apartment.

“You’re drunk, detective, I wouldn’t suggest trying anything.” The lead man warned, placing a hand on a holstered revolver of an impressive caliber, “This is just a bad dream, but one you may want to listen to.”

March, undeterred by the threat, pulled his sidearm from his waistband and held it loosely by his side, “I said, stop. I’m a detective with the NYPD, and I’m about to place you under arrest for illegal entry if you don’t leave right now.”

“Detective, put down the gun, you short-sighted fool, we are here to help.” The man’s tone remained a warning threat, he undid the snap on his holster and the two men surrounding March did the same, “We want to aid in your investigation, more specifically we want to help with its conclusion.”

March’s mind slowly spun up to the reality of the situation; he was drunk, outnumbered and, now that he looked at it, dead in the open against opponents with easy access to cover. He set the gun down on his kitchen table with a curse and sat down, not letting it out of his reach.

“Good man.” The man nodded and joined March on the opposite side of the table, casually placing his revolver on it facing March’s gun, barrel to barrel,  “My name is Commander Laderas, I’m with the Brigade, though you may have guessed that from the uniforms.”

March looked over the jet black outfits each of the men wore. They were clearly military and well fitted, no rank or unit patches were visible, only an image of an elongated skull with a knife planted into it, cracking the bone. The insignia was surrounded in a circular border by words March couldn’t make out through his blurry eyes, “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

Laderas cocked his head, “You must not watch very much of the news. We are an organization dedicated to fighting, and winning, against the alien menace, by all means necessary.”

March laughed in the man’s face, “Now that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He said in between chuckles, “You boys play dress up and hunt aliens? Leave that to the actual military, they’ve got this handled.”

The mans face twisted into an angry scowl, “You would do well to show some respect. We have a mandate from the military, we are the ones keeping peace in Texas, we…” the man clenched a fist and set his jaw, “That, however, is immaterial. I am here for one simple reason, I want you to know that we are waiting in the wings if you find this monster.” One of the soldiers brought the goggles over to the table, setting them carefully between the guns,  “You already seem to be on the right track, detective.” The Commander said, motioning at the device.

“You sound like my partner. There’s no aliens involved here. Humans commit crimes, not monsters. Maybe some BSDC remnants did this, or someone hoping for a ransom.” March crossed his arms and stared at the goggles.

“The BSDC no longer exists, detective.”

“Their leadership escaped, I know the story.”

“No you don’t. My people tracked them down, put an end to them in a hotel in Wisconsin. They did not do this, detective, they are dead.” The man grinned and the look sent a shiver down March’s spine, “They were traitors to humanity and thought we would accept them into our ranks. They were mistaken.”

March sat in stunned silence for a moment before nodding, “What is it you want with me?” his voice came out shaky and weak. The BSDC was over, case closed.

“We want you to find our target. Identify it’s hiding place and let us do the rest, we are more than capable of taking this creature down.”

“Why me?”

“Your record stands for itself, detective. We have been observing your work for some time, you have the ability to bring this creature to light.” Laderas sat back in the chair, it creaked under him, “All we want from you, detective, is for you to stand aside when the time comes. Find this monster, and let us do the rest.”

“And what will you do?” March knew the answer, but needed to hear the words.

“We will eliminate the enemy of humanity.”

“Just like that? Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, find out why? Interrogate it?

The commander held out is hands open to the sky and shrugged slowly, “Just like that, detective. Enemies of humanity must be eliminated.” He looked dead into March’s eyes, making the detective nearly flinch away, but they both held the gaze for a long moment, “Remember where your loyalties lie, detective, and don’t listen to whatever lies it offers you.” With that, the man slapped the table in a declaration of completion and left with his men, leaving March sitting at the table in a haze.

He slept, however briefly, before waking to the rising sun. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and got up from the chair where he had spent his night. The bottle of whiskey still had a few shots left in it and March took one straight from the bottle. He walked over to the table where his pistol and goggles still sat, a quiet reminder of the events of the night before.

March stared at the goggles. They were such a simple device to use, and yet he was terrified by the concept of trying them. He took another swig from the bottle, emptying it, and set it down, grabbing the googles. He placed the eyepiece onto his head and secured the strap. The view through the goggles was initially normal, if slightly brighter than the ambient of his apartment. After a moment, he found the switch on the side and flipped it. The room became overlaid with various colors of heat. He could see the faint red glow of the refrigerators radiator, the cool blue of a cup of cold water on his counter and the orange-red of his own hand.

March walked about the room, getting a feel for the device. He froze when he looked out the window. A cool blue figure stood in it, just outside. It sent a chill down his spine and his heart racing. It was only the upper half visible a four-armed torso and elongated head. It was sitting in his tree and turned to track his movements. March walked towards the window, silently grabbing his pistol from the table on his way. He flipped the goggles up, still staring at the window and he could see nothing there with his own eyes. Flipping the goggles back down, there sat the figure, now with its head slightly tilted, seemingly regarding him with curiosity. The figure held a short pole in one clawed hand. He had an instinctive realization that the pole was a weapon, something alien and bizarre, but a weapon nonetheless. The creature slowly raised and aimed the end of the pole at him. March tensed his gun hand, hovering an inch from the weapon but something stayed his arm from raising the pistol, his hand hesitating and shaking as he struggled to do so.

The creature held the pole out towards him with one of its upper arms for a moment and then slowly lowered it. It’s head cocked to the other side. The creature stirred and dropped from the tree into the street below. March ran to the window, and watched the creature land on the pavement, sending cracks through the sidewalk from the impact. The creature ran down the street and before a moment had passed, so was March, bolting as fast as he could down the stairs of the apartment.

He reached the street below and looked around for the creature, around one corner he saw just a blur of blue turn down the next street. March ran, trying to follow and before long was running down the street in hot pursuit, dodging the warm crowds in pursuit of his frigid quarry that only seemed to be getting colder as it ran. He eventually realized, once the initial adrenaline had worn off, that the creature might be letting him follow and prepared for a trap.

He followed it to the industrial district before he lost sight of it. He spun in a circle, ignoring the few annoyed and questioning glares from passing pedestrians. He could find no sign of the creature. He took the goggles off and cursed. Why let him follow just to hide, he wondered.

March pulled out his phone and keyed in Agent Aldeman’s number. His hand hesitated over the send button. If he made the call, that would be it, the case would go to the FBI, who would scour the industrial district likely in vain. He cursed again and put the phone away. This was his case, and he still had questions. He needed to know why it let him live, and let him follow.

March took a taxi back to the station to pick up Langley. “Come on, I’m driving.” He stated plainly to the man, who looked up startled from his work. March grabbed the extra copy of the case notes from his desk and beelined for the parking lot, Langley trailing behind with objections.

“March, March, hold on!” Langley shouted to his back from across the hallway, “Where are we going?”

“To establish motive. Artemis Rocketry Solutions.”

The drive to upstate New York was long and filled with questions from Langley, which March stubbornly refused to answer. It was best to keep his junior partner in the dark on the forces at play, he had decided, in order to shield him from danger.

“I wish you would tell me… Anything!” Langley nearly exploded in agitation, waving his arms about in frustration.

March thought for a long moment as Langley stewed. The chase with the creature, the confrontation with the Brigade, it had all shattered his ideas of how the world worked. Aliens couldn’t be involved in his life, they didn’t even exist. Yet he had seen one with his own, admittedly augmented, eyes. He had been threatened by men hunting it too. The words came out as something of a shock, “How about this. I believe you.” March did his best to put on a convincing smile and failed miserably. He turned Langley’s car down the road leading to the Artemis headquarters.

“Believe me on what, March? You’re not making sense!”

“Aliens. We’re hunting a goddamned Alien.” The admission hit March like a gunshot. He was hunting an alien, as a suspect. He looked forward to that interrogation.

“Ah!” Langley exclaimed and a grin momentarily flashed across his face before he grew more serious, “wait, March, what happened?”

“Can’t say, let’s say the bottle opened my mind a bit to the possibility.”

“Goddamn it March are you drunk?”

“Nah, just had a sip before I left.” March winced.

“Goddamn it, let me drive!”

“We’re here.” March pulled the car into the parking lot surrounded by tall buildings.

Artemis Rocketry Solutions was a massive complex. Six large buildings surrounded the parking lot. Several of the buildings March recognized from the days of the space shuttles as being rocket construction facilities, but many were likely only laboratories and offices.

He walked up to the lobby entrance, watched by an armed security guard to whom March and Langley gave a respectful nod. They were greeted by a woman in a well tailored suit.

“Welcome, detectives, I’m Selena Dunsen second director of Artemis Solutions. How can we help?” she straightened her cufflinks and looked the detectives over calmly.

“We’re here about the disappearance of Terrance McKee. We’re looking for any information on what he was working on, something that could give motive to a kidnapping.” March explained.

“Oh my God. So he’s really missing? We haven’t heard from him in days, but that’s not unusual for Mr McKee, he can be somewhat eccentric in the best of times. Times which these are definitely not.” She furrowed her brow in concern, “I’m afraid some of our work is classified, but I can give you a brief tour of our facility and answer any questions you have that are within my legal ability.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to step on any toes.” March nodded in agreement.

Dunsen led the detectives through a long hallway connecting the lobby and office building to one of the nearby structures. Inside the facility was hallow, home to a massive construction framework. A half built rocket stood in its midst, towering over March and reaching nearly to the ceiling of the facility.

“As you can see, and as our name suggests, our work is rocketry. This rocket will one day deliver a small orbital module to the moon, where it will serve as a refueling and logistics hub for passing spacecraft going deeper in system.”

“That’s a neat rocket.” March said in awe of the vehicle, painfully aware of how he sounded, “Anything in it about invisibility?”

The woman froze and raised an eyebrow, “That’s an exceptionally odd question, detective March. While such a thing would be highly classified, I can tell you with certainty that we have no such device, or intention on building such a device. On top of the practical impossibility of such technology, we also would simply have no use for it.”

“Just ruling out possibilities, was never a strong one to begin with. Any other strange happenings around here? Other missing people, perhaps?”

“No others missing, but there have been a rash of strange things. We’ve had a large number of psychiatric incidents, about a third of my staff is on leave for that reason. Also there’s been a lot of tech going missing too; engine parts, internal computer components, but also several office computers have had storage drives or other components turn up missing. There’s also the incidents with the cabin temperature…” she trailed off, deep in thought.

“Cabin temperature?” Langley asked, sharing a look with March.

“The temperature in the cabin, the actual structure we will be putting into Luna orbit. It has dropped without explanation several times. There is delicate equipment exposed inside, so we monitor the environmental conditions. The temperature has been recorded dropping over 10 degrees Fahrenheit on several occasions, not enough to damage the equipment, thank God, but combined with everything else, it makes for an eerily convincing pattern.”

“What pattern?” March asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting the explanation for Langley’s sake.

“Detective, we’ve all seen the video. I know the government tried to suppress it, but I’d be surprised if there’s a person in this country who hasn’t seen it. The aliens use invisibility and their tech cools the ambient temperature based on the ice around the pod. My people spent several days after arrival just pouring over the footage.”

“I still haven’t seen it.” March admitted.

“March, for fucks sake…” Langley put an embarrassed hand over his eyes and rubbed them.

“I’ll get around to it!” March protested.

“Will you be investigating these occurrences?” Dunsen redirected, “our internal security has been unable to find anything, and the FBI has been blowing us off.”

“Not my case, but I’ll bring it up to the chief. Outside our jurisdiction, though.” March gave a sympathetic smile.

The detectives continued their tour, going through various laboratories and workshops where parts and computers were being designed and built. March and Langley received strict instructions not to touch anything or read any documents that might be lying around. The tour completed its circuit, and the detectives departed the facility with a promise to update Vance when or if they found Mr. McKee.

Outside, Langley pulled up the video that had so shocked the world, “This might be important to the case, you.. really do need to see this.” he explained. The two detectives leaned against Langley’s car and watched.

The video began with a scene of chaos inside of a lecture hall. People recovered from an earthquake that March knew must have been caused by the landing of the alien pod outside. A middle-aged man, who seemed to be leading the group, shouted for the camera to follow them outside, just barely audible over the fire alarm. The cameraman followed, panning over injured people on their way to the emergency exit.

Outside, the camera locked immediately onto the object that had landed there. A multifaceted sphere much taller than a human sat dumped into the parking lot. The leader approached it as did the cameraman and a few other people. After a long moment the pod opened, and the alien emerged from before a strong white light that was pouring out of the vessel.

The alien towered over the leader, regarding the man with what seemed like curiosity, tilting it’s head the same way it had at March. The leader fell to his knees before the creature and began to utter a prayer, the full Hail Mary, if March heard correctly. After the man finished his prayer, he looked up at the creature. It reached one of its four clawed arms out, grabbed the man’s arm gently, and pulled him to his feet. They seemed to be on the verge of embracing, with the odd tone of the video feeling almost intimate, then the alien turned its head. The camera panned to follow its gaze and focused on the convoy of military and police vehicles speeding into the parking lot.

The alien vanished, gone invisible as the man uttered, “we didn’t know, I’m sorry.” And the video cut.

March lit a cigarette. That was no “enemy of humanity” rather, it seemed if anything, a bit confused in the video. The man’s impromptu act of worship had gathered the same response as his own noticing. He reached into his briefcase, always secured around his shoulder with a strap, and pulled out the goggles.

“Well, now we know the alien was definitely interested. Maybe we can even entrap it.” Langley looked at March, who didn’t meet his gaze, “We should get the FBI in, they probably have a way of finding this thing.”

March held up the goggles, “got one right here.” He put them on, accidentally ashing his cigarette onto his shirt as he struggled to get the straps secure. He looked over the building. On top of one of the rooftops sat two glowing yellow and red human figures. He moved the zoom up and saw the men were watching them with binoculars, a sniper rifle casually leaning against an AC unit nearby. They were almost certainly some of the same men who had paid him a visit earlier, he figured. March waved to them. The men looked at each other and then the man with the binoculars nodded enough for March to see through the goggles.

 “March, who are you waving at?”

“Some assholes who think they’re running the show.”

“March, are we being watched? By who? I really don’t fucking like this.” His voice took on a tone of panic.

“It’s our case, we’ll handle it. These guys are harmless, paid me a visit to try to intimidate me last night.” He looked across the windows.

“We are in way over our heads. We need to back out, there’s a government contractor and need I remind you, an actual, literal alien, maybe even in that building right now!”

“I’m hoping it is.” A shiver went down March’s spine as the thought hit him. He panned the device over the windows, stopping as he saw the creature, cold as ice to the camera. It was in a window under the men. His mouth gaped open, words struggling to find their way out. The creature didn’t seem concerned with the men’s presence, simply standing and watching March and his partner. “Yeah, it’s in there, fuck that thing gives me the creeps.”

“Jesus Christ, March, call up the FBI! Call the damn military, we need to get this thing!

“we’ll get it, don’t worry. After all I need to ask it a few questions.” First and foremost on his mind was why it didn’t shoot him for spotting it, let alone when he was chasing it. It didn’t add up, here it was sabotaging and kidnapping CEOs, maybe even killing them, but it didn’t take out one detective who was getting too close.

“March, I want out, I’ll ask the chief to assign you someone else, but I want out.”

“What? Come on!” March took the goggles off and looked at Langley.

“I’m serious. You should think about just reporting in to the FBI and letting them handle this from here. We’ve got a literal alien infiltrator on our hands, and we know where he’s going regularly. We can’t handle this, March, we’re cops, not military.”

The two got into the car, Langley in the driver’s seat having refused to let March drive, “Ok, spill. You’ve been keeping things from me, what happened? Why are you so calm about a literal alien within sight.”

March sighed, but relented, “The alien, this alien I think, paid me a visit earlier today. I was trying out the goggles and there it was outside my window, watching me. I chased it down to the Industrial district, down by the docks, but I lost it. I think it’s holed up around there somewhere.”

“Why didn’t you go to the FBI?” Langley’s voice was high and cracking.

“It had a chance to kill me, it didn’t. I think it’s.. I don’t know, I think it’s investigating us, studying us. It landed near that gathering of scientists, right?” Langley nodded and March continued, “I don’t think it’s hostile. I think it’s trying to understand us, figure out why we’re so aggressive towards it. I think I have a chance to talk to it, we have… rapport, after this morning, where we both didn’t shoot each other.” He hadn’t consciously realized the idea until he said it.

“March. They are alien invaders kidnapping people for God knows what reason. They fucking EMP’d half the country. They’re sabotaging our technology, they’re mind controlling people…” he trailed off as he reached the end of the known list, the suspicions of their involvement in the Pacific war left unsaid.

“I think… Yeah, I think that’s all just study. They just want to understand us, or this alien does anyway, maybe they’re not a monolith. I think this one is a diplomat or a scientist. It’s trying to figure us out but we keep trying to kill it, both in orbit and on earth. You saw the video, it picked that man up off his knees, it wants to talk, but then the military moved in and ruined the chance.”

“and what about the EMP? Was that study? The greatest act of terrorism in human history just a way for it to see how we reacted?

“We launched the…”

“It doesn’t matter, March!” Langley pounded on the steering wheel and raised his voice, “They are the ones who chose to detonate them! They are the ones who chose to launch a comet at us so we were all scared out of our wits that it would hit! They are the one who came here in the first place! They are the ones who made it so I don’t know if my own fucking family is dead or alive!”

“I didn’t…”

“No, March, you fucking didn’t. You didn’t know, because you never asked! These aliens have destroyed lives, killed good people, maybe my own fucking parents, and you want to talk to them?”

The two sat in silence for a long moment, Langley stewing in anger and March staring at his shoes, “They were inside?” March said eventually.

“Yes, March. They were in the zone. When the aliens blew up those nukes, my family lost contact. They’re all in Wyoming, center of the zone. Every day since then, I’ve still had to come into this damn job and put up with your shit, and you never even noticed anything was wrong. We’ve been partners for a year, March.” March just nodded, feeling like he had just been deconstructed. After a moment Langley continued, “so we are going to the FBI, the military, whoever it takes to kill that thing, and then we are done.”

“I won’t do it.” March said simply, in a quiet, somber voice, resolving himself to his course even as he discovered it. A small voice in the back of his mind questioned if his thoughts were his own, it was known that the aliens could influence people. It didn’t really matter, he decided, if the alien was putting that into his mind it just meant it wanted to talk too.

“I’ll do it myself.” Langley declared.

“You don’t have the number, sure you can…”

“Give me the agent’s number, I’ll call him right now and I can drop you off at the station.”

“No, Langley, I won’t help you do this.”

“Give me the fucking number!”  his voice took on the tone of a growl.

“No! I need to talk to it, then you can call the FBI.”

“It’ll run!”

“I have to try.”

“Then get out of my fucking car and try.” Langley’s tone was flat and final, “I’ll get this thing taken down before you can blow our chance.”

“I can talk to it! I can get it to stop!” March pleaded.

“March, get out of my car, before I do something that will end both of our careers.”

March nodded, a final goodbye, and left the car. He stood watching the tail lights as Langley sped away. As soon as he was out of sight, march turned and ran back towards the building, fumbling with the goggles. He got them onto his head, stopped running and looked back up to the alien’s position to find it missing. He scanned over the building and then the parking lot, hoping desperately to catch sight of the creature. He saw a brief cold flash in the tree line surrounding the complex far to the other end and knew it was gone. March cursed and stopped himself from slamming the goggles into the ground.

Then, with an abruptness like being hit by a car, March was swimming in the East River, looking up at the Industrial District. He reeled from the shock of the transition and started swimming to shore on instinct. He found himself, in just a moment, on one of the docks like he was in a dream that was skipping time. No one was around, no one, it seemed, was in the city at all. The air was dead quiet, and March shouted out, “What do you want?” at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off the buildings. The vision responded by moving him again, now deeper into the Industrial District. He looked up at a warehouse, one he had noticed during his chase of the creature. The alien stood in the doorway, dwarfing it with it’s height. It held up an arm, clawed palm facing towards the sky, and motioned March towards it. A simple thought appeared in his mind, not words but just a message, “Come, communicate, negotiate.” And march was summarily dumped back into reality.

He came to sitting on the ground, Dunsen looking down at him with a hand on his shoulder in support, “Detective! Can you hear me?” she shouted.

“Yeah.” March decided, kneading a new headache out of his skull, “You got a ride I can use?”

“You collapsed!” she shouted, “We saw you from inside, I think you hit your head.” A few other people had gathered around, and March saw the woman motion for a nearby medic.

“Yeah, about that ride?”

She looked at March absolutely dumbfounded, “We have a few fleet vehicles, but…”

“I’ll take one.”

“I can’t just let you…”

“Police requisition, I need to go confront a suspect.”

Her eyes widened in realization, “You’re going to go talk to it?”

“Yes, before some idiots kill it.”

“Then I’ll help you, detective. I was at Cambridge, I know the nature of this thing. It doesn’t want war, it wants to talk. if you think you can…”

“It just asked me to.”

“Then go!” She ran inside and fetched the keys, tossing them overhand to March at a distance, he caught them.

March climbed into a delivery semi truck, devoid of trailer, and sped off as fast as the rig could. His thoughts raced on the drive. Was he being controlled? He knew the aliens had the ability, but it could be overcome. He had a gut feeling he couldn’t stop himself, driven not by an outside influence but by a certainty of purpose. He could end the war before it started, he could get the alien to release its captive and talk to mankind instead of testing them. He still didn’t know why it took Mr. McKee, but he was sure the man was alive. What did it matter, he decided, one way or another if the FBI or, God forbid, the Brigade got to the being first, it was over, mankind would be sucked into a war.

He pulled into the industrial district after several hours of speeding down the highways and making his way through New York City traffic in the big rig. There was no sign of a police or military presence yet and he wondered if he had beaten the creature back to its hideout. He put on the goggles and got out, scanning the surroundings for signs. One building was colder than the rest, he realized, it gave off a faint blue glow in the infrared of his augmented vision.

He ran to the building, out of breath by the time he reached the door. The industrial steel doors opened with a creek; the handle was cool to the touch. He was certain that this building hadn’t been exhibiting its frigid properties when he had previously pursued the creature here. The air inside hit like a hammer, freezing his sinuses and filling his lungs with the smell of electricity and petrichor.

The alien stood at the far side of the room, the scraggly mess of Terrence McKee kneeling facing the door in front of it. The creature turned away from the bank of arcane machinery that took up the back wall of the warehouse and looked at March.

The thought filled his mind, foreign and implanted he was sure, that he didn’t need the goggles. He took them off and looked directly at the creature for the first time. It’s skin was a faint purple and it’s four eyes bored into him with a violet curiosity. Another thought entered his mind, not in words but unmistakable in its meaning, “What now?”

“Now, we talk.” March stated and moved into the room, he closed the door behind him and suppressed a shiver from the combination of looking at the inhuman creature and the chill of the room, “Let McKee go.”

“Leverage” came the idea into his mind, “Soldiers approach.”

“If we can talk, if we can work this out, man to alien, I can stop the soldiers.” March didn’t know if he could, but he figured he had to try.

“Eliminate threat.” The thought came with a picture of the alien using one of its arms to slash himself across the chest, and the alien vanishing.

March shuddered, “I’m on your side, don’t you get that? I want to stop them, but we have to talk.”

“Communication ongoing.”

March laughed and the alien cocked its head, “Explain meaning.”

“Humor, or rather, I’m laughing at the absurdity of an alien being a smartass. Ah… don’t worry about that one. What matters here is you agree to stop. Stop abducting, stop messing with people’s minds.”

“The experiments must continue until an understanding is ascertained. You defy definition, one must be compiled.” The implanted thoughts had begun to clarify with practice, he noticed.

“You’re a diplomat, right? Or a scientist?”

“I am The One Who Comprehends/Defines/Rewrites”

March scratched his head, “I’ll take that as a scientist. You want to understand us, I get that, we want to understand you. My people, the ones coming, they want to do that aggressively, like you are doing.”

“I have not killed, harm has been minimized.”

“I respect that, that’s part of why I’m talking to you. You spared me, in the window, you let me follow you. At any point you could have killed me.”

“It was considered. Peace must be established for definitions to be made. Peace must be established for physical existence to continue.”

“Your species would kill us if we go to war? All of us?”

“We are many.” Images of thousands of stars and planets flashed through his mind, making him feel as though his head would burst. He clutched his hands around his head and the alien stopped, “Threats to unity must be contained. Death is unnecessary.”

“How would you…” he struggled to catch his breath after the upload, images of stars and unpronounceable names flooding his memories as though they had always been there.

“Irrelevant.” The alien made a chopping motion with its lower two hands, “time runs short. I will release the hostage if you stop your soldiers.”

“Alright. Alright, and you’ll stop the experiments, and talk to our scientists, our ones who understand.”

“This was always the intent.” The alien cocked it’s head again, “Your soldiers interrupted the process. This one agrees to your terms, others cannot be reached.” The alien looked down as if disappointed, “They are lost.”

March nodded and heard the thumps of boots and the clatter of weapons. The alien vanished, going invisible again with a final message, “I will wait for your completion.”

March turned and opened the door and faced a wide eyed Commander Laderas. The man was suited in full body armor, as were the half dozen men behind him, each had a rifle and infrared goggles on their black helmets.

“You have found the enemy. The man flipped down his own pair of goggles and attempted to look behind March. March interposed himself in the doorway, blocking Laderas’ view and path, “Move, detective, we can handle the rest.”

“We’ve reached an agreement. It will stop the…”

“Move, detective, or have you changed sides?” March heard the soldier click a pistol out of his belt, his rifle slung loose and unused around his chest.

“We have a chance here!” March shouted and took a step towards the man, getting close enough to smell the adrenaline wafting off him.

“Move, or be forgotten as one more enemy of mankind.” The Commander leveled his pistol at March’s chest. March slowly reached for his own gun, knowing he would be to slow to make any difference. Laderas’ eyes showed a flicker of sympathy, quickly replaced by his firm, hateful gaze, “I have respect for you, detective, do not make me take your life.”

“It will stop. It will talk to our scientists, we can negotiate, maybe even…” March felt the gunshot before he heard it, a firm punch to the abdomen. He toppled to the floor, his head impacting the rough concrete hard enough to leave a spatter of blood, or was that from the gunshot, he wondered distantly.

He felt his consciousness slipping away. He heard Laderas’ voice like it was in the far end of a tunnel, “Leave him, we have our mission. Goggles down, move in!” March struggled to find his pistol, to make one last stand for the chance at peace even as the men stepped over him and into the warehouse. March felt the chill breeze from inside even as his legs began to feel cold from the loss of blood. He found the pistol, half sitting in a growing pool of his own blood. He recognized from the amount, in a detached way, that he was dying.

He wrapped his hands around the pistol, and aimed it towards the men inside. He tried to identify Laderas, but the men looked the same in their identical black uniforms from the rear. He aimed at the closest of them with a tiny prayer to no one in particular. Even as gunfire erupted from the room, the men unloading their rifles at the alien, he pulled the trigger.