Major Collins, my liaison with the military, appears on the screen. “We’ve cleared another five sectors with no sign of Amos. Are you sure he’s in the L.A. area?”
Amos is the code name Earth’s military gave the enemy scout. We’re under orders not to let the local population find out there is a grud in their midst. Eventually, someone will spot him. With their scales and yellow eyes, grud stand out among humans.
“Yes,” I reply, no desire to recite, yet again, the chain of intel and events that led to me searching this area of Earth.
Lights blind us as a bus turns onto the road. I need to speak with Kenzie before she boards.
Collins scowls at my failure to explain further. “Our logistics and topography consultant Dr. Parsons says there are no good places left to search. That Amos is east of here.”
His consultant is a fool. A grud scout ship is small enough to land practically anywhere, including most of the rooftops in this city. But aerial searches revealed nothing.
“Listen to me,” Collins says, raising his voice, “Unless you can give me a good reason to continue the search?—”
The bus slows and opens its doors, the squeak drawing my attention.
“I cannot force you to continue searching, Major,” I say, barely containing my frustration. I cannot end the call given the threat he’s levied. I need all the help I can get in my search. I mute the comm for a second. “Kenzie?—”
“It’s okay. Take your call.” Without warning, she grasps my hand and pulls me onto the bus with her. “You’re coming with me, Kobrik.”
I raise a brow at her brazenness, but I don’t resist. That would be impolite. And foolish. I don’t want to lose her.
“Your consultant doesn’t know Amos like I do,” I continue my call as Kenzie slides into a row of seats toward the front.
Major Collins shoves his comm at Dr. Parsons, an ordinary looking male with brown hair, brown eyes, glasses, a small scar along one brow, and an unremarkable expression.
“I’d rather not,” the consultant says, pushing the comm back at the major. “Just tell him I’ve run all the simulations and don’t believe Amos is in L.A. His calculations are off by a few hundred miles. It depends on more than trajectory. Speed, angle of entry, and?—”
“Enough, Doctor,” the major scolds. “This isn’t a secure line.”
It is, but I’m in a public place, so the major is correct in reprimanding the consultant.
“We need to focus on Oklahoma,” Parsons insists.
“Where is Oklahoma?” I ask.
“About 1,300 miles from here,” Kenzie whispers. “There’s nothing there. Not since the war.”
“Major, I’d like to speak with you in private. Without your consultant.”
The major faces Parsons. “Dismissed.” His focus returns to me. “Go ahead.”
“I suspect your consultant is intentionally misdirecting you.”
“I vetted him myself. He’s human.”
I tamp my anger down at this male’s presumptuousness. “Species is not the issue. He could be part of the Brotherhood.”
“As I said, he’s been vetted. And he comes highly recommended.”
“I wish to meet him. Assess why he’s ignoring the data I sent him.”
“He’s not ignoring it. I’ve seen him feed the data into his computer myself. Twenty-four more hours, then I’m reporting up the chain to end this waste of time and resources.”
“I’ll continue working my way west, toward the Pacific Ocean.” There are a lot of parks and abandoned industrial locations, locations with ample debris or foliage to hide a ship.
“That’s your choice. Twenty-four hours. Collins out.”
“Who’s Amos?” Kenzie asks when my comm goes dark.
