Layla glanced into the clear, navy, starred sky. The mother ship was more revealing during the hours of darkness. It must’ve been hundreds of miles away but still appeared large, vivid. A bright strip ran across its center.
Pouring in and out of the strip, minute specks of light headed to and from earth, shuttles on their supply runs. Hundreds of them like worker bees, probably landing at different farms around the world in other time zones.
The moon looked like a scarred apricot as it had for a while. She’d seen it that color before when on vacation in Sydney. A bushfire took hold in the Blue Mountains, smoke scattering the rays of light from Earth’s natural satellite.
Layla knew the croatoans were terraforming but avoided the inconvenient truth. The requests to update land conversion and the experiment on the paddock brought it into sharper focus. Survival instincts that motivated her to work on the farm were now pushing her in the opposite direction.
Monitors faintly glowed through the frosted glass of the chocolate factory door. Vlad was probably watching them at the far end of the building. Nothing in the immediate vicinity suggested the presence of surveyors.
The square was quiet. No signs of any outdoor alien activity.
She slowly twisted the handle, slipped through the gap, and closed the door behind her. Vlad slumped over the desk in front of the bank of monitors, probably getting a snatch of sleep. It wasn’t a huge issue to doze on shift. The harvester alerts sounded like the grating buzz of an old, electronic alarm clock.
Ambient light was sufficient enough for Layla not to use her flashlight. She crept around the empty surveyors’ table to a walled-off area on the left-hand side.
Croatoans usually carried their equipment and charts there before leaving. The space was used by the alien with the red-rimmed helmet visor. It usually sat surrounded by three of their little computers. Layla watched the alien enter the chocolate factory two weeks ago. The devices sprang to life when the croatoan touched them. She hoped it would be that simple. Just like their tablet devices.
All three trapezium-shaped computers were folded open. Layla took a deep breath and touched a central pad with a silver outline on the first.
The screen filled with bright electric-blue background. A black square in the middle streamed unrecognizable, light green digits. Layla swished her finger across the pad. Nothing happened.
She touched the middle computer. The screen burst into life and split into four sections, each showing a different graphic. The top right was a bizarre picture of planet Earth; the bottom three-quarters of the globe were orange-tinted. It spun around, showing hundreds of black dots across the continents, probably farms. In the top left was a graph, some kind of measurement, impossible to read.
The bottom two pictures showed North America. One she recognized as the land they’d farmed colored in red. It wasn’t a surprise that the croatoans were also tracking progress; she expected that. The final picture had a shaded-in area of previously untouched land to the north of their location. She guessed it covered a hundred square miles.
Layla focused on the last image and wondered if she was looking at the tipping point for the required atmospheric change. It looked too small.
She touched the last computer. It flashed awake.
The display looked like a timeline. Thirty tasks in alien language. Twenty-eight struck through. Whatever they were doing, it looked close to completion.
None of the information was as compelling as the experiment. Collectively, it all led to the same logical conclusion.
Something gripped Layla’s shoulder.
She flinched. Turned.
Igor smiled, his face bathed in a blue glow from the computers. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Layla put her hand to her chest and felt her rapidly drumming heart. She let out a deep breath. “Jesus. I thought you were…”
His right arm was behind his back. He never failed to look shifty and dangerous.
“Thought I was an alien?” Igor said. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She glanced to his side. “What have you got there?”
Igor stepped toward her. “Things are going to change around here. You need to make sure your colors are nailed to the right mast.”
Gregor poured a whiskey into a shot glass, slammed it onto the table, and pushed it across to Ben. The dog from the harvester had earned it.
“Drink. It’ll put hairs on your chest,” Gregor said.
Ben frowned and twisted the glass. “What is it?”
“The water of life. Now drink. Do not insult me.”
Ben the dog held the contents of the glass in his cheeks and swallowed with a single, exaggerated gulp. He screwed up his face, squeezed his neck, and coughed.
Marek, who stood beside Ben, roared with laughter. “Looks like he enjoyed it.”
“You do realize what’s going to happen if I find out you’re lying?” Gregor said. He swiped a finger across his own throat.
“Why would I lie? It’s been a nightmare since he attacked our harvester.”
Gregor held up the necklace and gazed at the bead. “Jackson pretended to be my friend when I first arrived. It was all an act. He was gathering information for his assaults. He risks all our lives.”
Marek pointed at the dog. “What are we going to do with him?”
“I’m with you guys. You can trust me,” Ben said.
Gregor stared at the dog, mulling over three options. Ben quickly broke eye contact and looked down at his empty glass.
They couldn’t return him to the Operations Compartment of the repaired harvester. This dog had seen the outside world. He could easily open his mouth during a moment of weakness and compromise the whole crew. The second option was to turn him into silver trays of slop. It seemed like a waste.
“I’m going to reward you,” Gregor said. “Because of the information you provided, you can have a job on the farm. Be under no illusion; what I give I can take away with a bullet. Do you understand?”
It wasn’t much different from the speech Gregor used to give to new recruits in Yerevan. Before anyone became fully integrated, they had to prove themselves. Ben the dog had already done this to some extent, but Gregor was wary. Jackson had shown to be a sly operator in the past. Leopards didn’t change their spots.
Gregor smiled as the frightened dog nodded.
“Yes. Thank you, sir,” Ben said.
Gregor winced. “Don’t call me—”
Two knocks boomed against the door.
“Who the hell is that at this time?” Marek said.
Before anyone could respond, Layla flung the door open. She looked immediately at the dog.
“Strange time for a visit,” Gregor said.
“I’ve been carrying out a little bit of the investigation work you asked me to do. Who’s he?”
“Let me introduce you to Ben,” Gregor said. He held up the necklace. “He’s given me the location of a hideout used by the little wasp. Jackson tried to use him as his new bitch. Recognize this?”
“Is that?” Layla said.
“Jackson’s necklace. Yes. I’m going in a few hours.” He turned to Ben. “He’ll show me the way. And you’re coming with us.”
“Me?”
“If you’re bullshitting, I’ll leave you in the forest.”
Layla sat on the couch. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
“Bigger things than Charlie Jackson?” Marek said. “We’ve wanted that bastard for years. What could be bigger?”
“Yesterday, I watched the croatoans carrying out a test. Did you see a large transparent structure in the paddocks?”
Gregor nodded. “We passed over it. Why?”
“It was some sort of atmosphere box. They tested five different levels on humans and aliens. Let’s just say we wouldn’t survive in an environment where they can take their helmets off.”