Alien Mine Ch. 11

Sorry for the long delay; a family emergency has kept me from writing. I am back at it, and more chapters are to come.

Leslie threw up again in the sink, surprised there was anything left in her stomach. The smell, the blood, the sheer horror of what had happened here was more than she could take. Kiania held her hair out of the way while Leslie threw up again. It had been bad, worse than she had imagined. Leslie had seen her share of bodies, not a lot but some, but this was something worse. Blood was everywhere, on the walls, furniture, everywhere, like someone had taken a can of red paint and thrown it around her home. Her beige couch dripped with it, and the sunlight made the blood shiny fire engine red.

The first thing she had seen was her colleague. He was just inside the front door and was almost unrecognizable as a human. His clothes had been shredded, and his chest ripped open, the ribs cracked and gnawed. His internal organs were gone, leaving his body cavity like a hollowed-out shell. Only his face was untouched, pale eyes staring in terror.

The kids' bedroom had been worse. The mother must have heard something, probably her husband screaming, and had gathered the children into one of the rooms. The door had been shattered, and the mother and children had been slaughtered in their bedroom. Leslie had stood and stared, and all she could see were lumps of bloody meat. Her eyes saw it, but her brain refused to recognize what it was being shown. The carpeting squeezed underfoot like water had gotten to it, but it wasn't water. There were toys scattered around, a coloring book, a toy train; it only made it worse.

Leslie felt the room spinning and was grateful for Kiania's support, the arm wrapped around her keeping her from falling. She turned away from the bodies and found herself staring at the dresser, a child's dresser. Its mirror was covered in blood, Cherry Red blood. Leslie closed her eyes, counting to ten, and felt Rhys dull her emotions, enabling her to function. Grateful, she made herself see the entire room, examining the remains.

Leslie had known these people, not well, but she recognized the face of the youngest daughter. Or at least what was left. Extreme violence, she had seen it before but nothing like this--more than human strength. The bodies had been ripped apart and eaten by something. There were what appeared to be claw marks and perhaps teeth marks on the remains.

"I killed them," Leslie whispered, her head hanging down in the sink. "Jesus Christ, this is my fault." She could feel her rage, she wanted to kill something, and that something had a name, the Om. The surveillance equipment had captured all of it--the dark thing entering, slaughtering her colleague, then the wife and kids. Leslie couldn't watch all of it, the part where it ate them. At least the darkness had obscured the details, the darkness the Om created to hide itself.

Due to the nature of the crime, and because the victim was a CIA employee, the FBI was the lead investigative agency. It must have happened yesterday.

"Are you okay," Kiania asked? "Do you want to leave?"

"No," Leslie replied, making her stomach stop by sheer force of will, "I owe them this, and besides, the FBI is going to want to question me; it will be at least another hour if we are lucky.

"Come on then, let's at least get outside."

She wasn't the only one who had lost their breakfast; most of the agents looked a little green. It was horrific seeing this, knowing what had happened but not able to tell anyone. Leslie lied convincingly, telling the agents she stayed in a friend's apartment while they were gone. Barely able to hold it together, she continued, her colleague had needed a place to stay while he was adding onto his house. More kids were planned, and they needed more room; now, they were all dead.

Kiania looked around carefully; they hadn't been sure it wasn't a trap. Rhys and Amancia were nearby but out of sight in armor and heavy weapons. Sandy and Thea were overhead in the shuttle. She didn't think it was a trap; it didn't have that feel. The best guess was the Om had come looking for Leslie and had found this family instead. It was a grim reminder of what they were dealing with, and she wondered where the Om were hiding. And what, or who they were feeding on.

"No sign of the bastards," Sandy said, all clear as far as I can see."

"Nothing here either," Rhys said. "I don't think the Om are here; get Leslie out of there as soon as possible," he told Kiania.

"What are we going to do with Leslie," Sandy asked. "We can't just leave her here now even if it does disrupt our plans."

"In the short term, I am going to leave Kiania and Amancia here for a week. She can't just disappear after something like this; everyone will assume she had something to do with it. However, we need to beef up security, something we should have already done. We need a better-armored vehicle, and Leslie needs to be better armed and protected. In the long term, we need a secure building here, some place we can armor and protect."

"That's a good idea," Sandy said. "Amancia, find us a building we can acquire, not too big, an office building we can rebuild and secure. If we can build a base on Miranda, I am sure we can sneak in enough materials and machines to refurbish an office building and turn it into living quarters. A safe house here in the Capital. We will need something here in the future. In the meantime, I will have Thea see what we can do with the existing townhouse, something to make it more Om proof."

Rhys nodded to himself in satisfaction; Sandy and Amancia would make it happen; Sandy had really blossomed as his deputy. Rhys wondered what other hidden talents she had. As for this mess, well, Rhys should have seen this coming, but he became overconfident after the battle in space. He had expected some kind of attack but didn't think they would strike like this.

The Om had come themselves for the first time instead of using human proxies. He wondered how an alien race could so easily manipulate people. Still, there seemed no shortage of humans willing to do their work. So far, he had been content to keep the battle in the shadows; it suited his plans to keep humanity ignorant of the threat until he had control, but attacks like this made that problematic. He didn't think they would try another attempt right away, but he and his team would be ready this time if he was wrong.

One of the Om observed through its human eyes as the police and the pseudo-Drans came and went from the feeding area. Trying to capture one of the symbionts and host had been a mistake; the mind had underestimated them, and one of the warriors had been damaged. The collective mind still didn't understand what the Drans had done on this world; it had never encountered a native food animal infected with the Drans symbiont. Trying to capture one of them had failed twice, but it was imperative to understand what the Drans were doing and was it possible these new Drans creations could become a threat if allowed to spread?

The hive had to conserve warriors as there were not many. Reproduction was already underway, but the technical base was limited since the two small nests were lost in space. The nest could not risk warriors until newly grown units had replaced the losses. The Pseudo-Drans would be eliminated from this area as soon as possible, but the nest would have to rely on the food animals to do its bidding. The mind had conceived a new plan; the food animals were easy to manipulate.

For Leslie, being back at work was surreal after the attack. It had taken several lies to explain where she was living and why. The FBI and the CIA had been concerned that this was an attack on her, not a random crime. They were right, of course, but she couldn't tell them that. The FBI and the police struggled to explain the missing parts, the strange teeth marks that didn't resemble any known animal. Leslie knew there were suspicions about her, first the mess with Nazir and killing robots, and now this.

It was hard going through her regular duties, meetings, updates, future activities, but she managed. Amancia had said it was her symbiont helping her cope, but she wasn't sure how she felt about it. It seemed like she should feel something more. She felt rage like never before but was still coping and able to function in a way she had not expected. Now it had been a week since the killings, and there had been no new attacks, no sign of the Om or Trangrods.

Leslie thought briefly about the events in the past week, then forced her mind back to the present tasks. Multitasking came easy to her now, and she was dealing with the deaths and the attack on herself better. Keeping different compartments of her mind busy with problems was a blessing because there were lots to think about. At least it was Friday, she consoled herself, and she would be seeing Rhys, Sandy, and Thea again tomorrow and helping kidnap a Chinese scientist. She still couldn't believe she was doing this, but between the trip into space and then the attacks on her... well, reality had changed things.

The attack on her had reinforced the dangers, but then she was in the danger business, but the senseless slaughter in her home, that was something different. They had been eaten! And that only made it worse, but it drove home the danger they all faced. She was now pretty much on board with Rhys' plans, at least for a while. The misgivings were still there, but she was willing to move forward for now. In the future, well, that would depend.

Security for her had been vastly upgraded; Rhys was obviously mad at himself for what had happened. He was still overbearingly arrogant, not asking her opinion, but at least he meant well. The new arrangements came with a new SUV covered in smart armor. There were small drones following the vehicle that she could monitor and control, and what she had to admit were some cool weapons.

The loose pants and blouse she wore concealed a tight-fitting armored bodysuit. Strapped to her thighs were two small but very powerful pistols she could reach through her pockets. They were new, 'Trangrod killers' Thea had designed and built and would do the job Amancia had assured her. There were also small grenades, a knife in each sleeve, and a larger one strapped to her thigh. There was even a stiletto woven into her hair (smart metal) and two bracelets. Each bracelet had a 'come and save me' button, but they also contained enough electrical power to stun an elephant.

Finally, they had put her in the med unit, and now she had implanted comms gear they could use to locate her. That took some getting used to, just subvocalize a name, and she was connected, or use an emergency setting that went out to everyone. The best part was that she could walk through a metal detector without a problem. Then inside the townhome were the dangerous guns. Thea had just built bigger ones like she had been using; it was like having a small cannon, but even Leslie could handle it. The projectiles would go through a modern tank, so they had to be careful where they aimed them.

She was also getting stronger as muscle was replaced with biopolymer, her reactions quicked. Leslie had to be careful at work not to crush a coffee cup or grip a colleague's hand too hard and accidentally crush a few bones. Her eyesight beginning to shift into frequencies like infrared had scared her until she learned to control it. While these changes took getting used to, the best part was her ability to begin sparring with Kiania and Amancia. She was not as fast or as strong, but she could and did train every night. They would push the furniture back (or rather, Kiania would just pick it up by herself and move it) and turn the living room rug into a gym mat.

Since Amancia and Kiania were staying with her, they both rode to and from her office, and one was always awake and armored while in the townhome. Leslie loved the feel of her new muscles, the way they rippled and stretched as she grappled with one of the girls, the other still in armor standing guard. Kiania was the most dangerous, but Amancia was close behind, her skills improving daily. Amancia worked hard to improve her combat skills, but she could only do so much away from the base. Still, with every conceivable book and video downloaded by her Bob, she had lots of material to work with. The girls all found the training bouts arousing, and these sessions were always followed by highly passionate sex.

Leslie had given up pretending she was heterosexual; who was she fooling. Besides, Amancia had been right about her libido; "the sex drive of an eighteen year old boy on steroids had been her description. Kiania just called it super slut, but now Leslie felt like she was a teenager again, just discovering sex and couldn't get enough of it. Her inhibitions (and apparently her shame) had just run away and hid over the last week as Leslie just embraced the changes. If she just didn't have to wear that butt plug, everything would be great.

The girls insisted that Rhys had ordered her to have it in her whenever she had an orgasm. Every day Amanciaa or Kiania would bring her to the edge and hold her there until she begged for it. It was humiliating, but Leslie secretly loved it. Her bottom cheeks clenched as she thought about it and the sex she would be having tonight when she got home. Kiania had something different planned for tonight, and Leslie was looking forward to it, whatever it was. In the meantime, she thought with a sigh, there were reports to go through, meetings, and more meetings.

Leslie finally wrapped things up for the day, ready to head home. Her thoughts shifted back to her body, the changes. One thing still bothered her, well, several things, but this one had nothing to do with sex. She had felt something during the kidnapping when Rhys arrived. Leslie hadn't talked to anyone about it yet, but something inside had shifted; it was like the world had slowed down. Then the fear had disappeared and been replaced... with what wasn't clear even now. Something predatory, an almost sexual desire to hunt, to kill? How was any of that arousing, but she had felt it. Amancia had been holding her down, protecting her. Still, she had struggled to get back up, to attack whatever Rhys was fighting.

"Are you about ready," came Kiania's voice in her ear?

"Just about," she said, her heart racing just a little. Kiania was in the parking lot waiting, and her body was telling her that it was time to go. She needed her nightly fix, and she preferred to get it from them rather than by herself.

***

"I've traced some of the men who attacked Leslie," Rhys said, "but I can't figure out how the Om are recruiting them to do their work. Some of these are serious bad guys, muscle from drug cartels south of the border--others from here in the US. Bob and I were able to trace some of them back

"Of course, but what did you have in mind?" Sandy asked.

"Well, some general mayhem as payback for the attack, but also to see if the Om left any traces for us, something to give us an indication of how they are recruiting people to attack us."

"It's been a different group each time, though," Sandy replied, frowning as she thought about the series of attacks.

Yes, but the others seemed all random thugs; this was something more organized. The smuggling organization provided some of the muscle and probably helped organize it. I was thinking a quick visit to their offices was in order. I have been through all their computers, or at least Bob has, and there are no indications of contact with someone unusual. Lots of stuff the police would be interested in, though."

Sandys smiled, but there was anger in her eyes. "I think a visit is in order; it's about time we got to strike back. They may just be pasties, but they should never have attacked Leslie. They raped her, and I am looking forward to shoving a gun up one of their asses. Let me get Thea; we will be ready to go in fifteen minutes."

Raul Penaloza strode into his office on the second floor of a large but rundown apartment complex in south Cincinnati. It was centrally located to his business; many of his customers lived in the area. It was also someplace the police did not come to except by necessity, which suited his business model. Raul had control of the heroin and fentanyl distribution in the city and of most of southern Ohio, with a steady supply from the Sinaloa Cartel in Mexico. His position was well established now; competitors had either packed up and left or were buried in farm fields he owned just for that purpose.

Nevertheless, Raul looked around with distaste at the neighborhood, the dilapidated buildings, trash everywhere, the drugged-out bums and hookers on the sidewalks. He had come a long way, clawing his way to the top, and even if he worked out of here didn't mean he liked it. Raul was trying to fit in now. He had a nice but not ostentatious McMansion in the suburbs, private schools for his kids, a second penthouse apartment for his current mistress, but this was where business was conducted, where the dealers and whores were recruited. It was also part of his image, the man it was dangerous to cross.

It was also the place where he had made the recent deal with a new source from Asia. It had already proved lucrative though he had lost all the men involved in the job. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had been rewarded handsomely, and his first shipment of drugs was due to arrive in a few days. He hadn't been happy about losing the guys, they were some of his regular enforcers, but he had replacements on the way from Mexico and had already recruited some new muscle locally.

But something about his new source bothered him, he thought as he wound his way up the stairs. Nothing he could put his finger on exactly, but he had a feel for these things; his gut had gotten him where he was. Reading people was his specialty; he always knew when someone was about to betray him or was holding back on the cash, but his gut had abandoned him when it came to the new one. "Call me Juan;" what kind of Asian was named Juan, but he played along because he paid cash for the muscle and promised a new source. The Cartel guys wouldn't like it, but they didn't need to know.

Raul opened the door and walked into his office. It was large, actually two apartments with a few walls taken out. He started to shout for Dominic, his second in command but stopped when he saw him lying on the ground, his head turned almost backward. Another of his men who were always on guard was in the corner, a large hole in his chest. He saw all this in a second, and Raul reached for his pistol but stopped when he realized he was staring into an enormous rifle held by one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Another woman was sitting in Dominic's chair with a strange pistol with a man standing beside her in some kind of body armor. Despite the beauty of the women, his gut screamed danger, especially after seeing the man standing there between them.

He carefully kept his hands away from his body while thinking furiously; he had never seen these people before, they weren't cops, but otherwise, he had no clue.

"Hello, Raul, have a seat over there," the man said, motioning to an uncomfortable chair Raul himself had used to keep unpleasant visitors waiting in. If you were told to sit in the chair, it usually meant you would only get a beating if you were lucky. He was surprised they let him keep his gun; perhaps that was a good sign.

"You sent some men to DC who attacked one of our friends," the man said in a low voice. None of your men survived, of course, but we are not happy, as you can see," he said, gesturing to the guard and Dominic on the floor. "He couldn't tell us anything, and Sandy lost her temper," he added in a menacing voice nodding at the redhead on the left. "We hope you are going to be more cooperative."