Lunch was busy, eaten standing up, and involved several calls between hosts and governments, but eventually it was decided.

The North American teams would pair up with South America and go after the pack of aliens spotted east of Florida. Europe and the teams from West Asia would target the pack of aliens lurking up near the North Pole. East Asia and the teams from the Middle East would go after the aliens in the Indian Ocean. Finally, the South African and Oceania teams would target the final pack of aliens in the southern Pacific.

Agreements were made, hands were shaken, and calls were placed to heads of state. Officially it would take a day or two to confirm with the various governments and inform the full chain-of-command, but unofficially, it was a done deal. A massive world-wide strike that involved well over fifty countries had been organized and mostly settled in an afternoon.

Anya had been paired with Samaira, Pan, Chell, and Gary from America. The Canadian “squad” consisted solely of Harrison the demon-summoner and another young man from Ottawa named Francis. He had a light tan, dark brown hair, and crisp blue eyes. His face was youthful, almost boyish, but his smile was tight and reserved.

He was dressed in tight black body armor that looked ideal for sneaking around, and had some short swords across his back. He seemed nice enough when he met Anya, but looked a bit nervous when he met Gary and Samaira. Chell gave him a funny look when he shook their hands, and then quietly dismissed himself from the group.

“What was that about?” Anya asked Chell when Francis had left. Chell shook her head and shrugged.

“Dunno. He just had some kind of panic spike and then left,” she said. “I don’t tend to pry at people unless they’re trying to think at me. Seems kinda rude.”

Anya smiled at the girl. “Good to know, she said, then looked back at the next group of hosts that would be joining their team.

The Caribbean had sent a sizable band of hosts with one each from the Bahamas, Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, Trinidad and Tobago, and the Dominican Republic.

There were no hosts from Mexico or Central America or the Western side of South America. Anya had a chill as she realized that was where Alien Omega had gone.

Galtero, the mecha pilot from Brazil, was the highest level among the comparatively small South American team. It was just him and a middle-aged woman from Brazil, and a man in his thirties from Uruguay.

Anya and all the other hosts had been given files on everybody and instructed to go over them that night and prepare for the joint attack. It was scheduled to happen by the end of the week, barring any problems while the various governments communicated with their militaries.

“A pleasure to be working with you,” a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark skin and short, white dreads told Anya as the North and South American teams started to mingle. “I’m Kemuel, from Trinidad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Anya replied and shook his hand. Kemuel wore a sleeveless robe that showed off his thick, muscular arms and long swirls of black tattoos.

“The Caribbean hosts have formed something of an unofficial coalition,” Kemuel said. “I have reluctantly been made leader. Alejandro from Cuba and Alvita from Jamaica here are my second-in-commands.”

A slender Cuban man in his forties and wearing a deep purple cloak shook her hand next. He had a wide, open face and his smile was so big that Anya felt her own mouth bowing upward to meet it. “Hola,” he said.

“We’re looking forward to expanding our little group of allies,” Alvita said next. She was a little taller than Samaira, and willowy-thin. Her black hair fell in lazily spiraling ringlets around her face. A pair of intricate sabers hung on her hips, one on each side. She wore a pair of thigh-high leather boots that had tiny, fluttering wings on their heels.

“How have you all been holding up?” Anya asked.

“Not too bad, actually,” Kemuel said. “Most of the aliens hit the mainland at first. By the time they started to come into the Caribbean, we had already found each other for the most part. We were very lucky. It seems Central and South America were hit very hard.”

“It was that Omega thing,” Alvita said. “They never stood a chance.”

“We’ll get it,” Alejandro said.

“First we have to get that pack in the Atlantic,” Anya said. Kemuel smirked, Alejandro laughed, and Alvita just tapped her elegant fingers on the hilt of her sabers.

“We’re not letting any freak into our homes,” Kemuel said. “We’ve kept them at bay so far with minimal losses. With you and the others, we hope to do more of the same.”

“We really were lucky though. It’s not easy patrolling so much ocean,” Alvita said.

“Maybe for you,” Kemuel said and laughed again.

“We’re just glad to have some help,” Alejandro said. “And hope we can be of service as well.”

“Believe me, we feel the same,” Anya said. They enjoyed a bit more small-talk, and then the hosts all separated for the evening.

Anya and her fellow Americans had retreated to the makeshift dorm-rooms deep within Gary’s factory. Gary had called them “makeshift,” but they were far larger and nicer than Anya’s apartment in Brooklyn had been. There were enough individual rooms to house most all of the North and South American hosts, but they had constructed their own safe houses in their own countries once they’d acquired the scrambler bands.

The rooms themselves were designed in a way similar to studio apartments or luxury dorm rooms: a single closed off bathroom, a large bed behind a privacy screen, a kitchenette, and a common living space. The expansive wall of the living space doubled as a floor-to-ceiling holographic screen that could play movies, or better, a crisp, realistic view of anywhere in the world. Anya’s wall was currently tuned to the Manhattan skyline. It was in real-time, and showed the ongoing reconstruction of 26 Federal Plaza and the surrounding area.

Tori was in Anya’s room going over the files with her, her heels and jacket discarded by the door. Reggie was coiled up and draped over the privacy screen in a U-shape. His bright eyes watched Tori as she flipped through the paper copies of the files and Felix as he floated above the desk and helped Tori cross-reference the paper copies with the data he had in the menu.

Anya emerged from the bathroom in a thick cloud of white steam and a blast of heat, dressed in her pajamas and with a towel draped over her shoulders.

“Damn, I can feel that from here,” Tori said as she waved the files at the dense steam wafting towards her.

“Sorry,” Anya said and flicked a switch nearby. A vent Gary had had specially installed in Anya’s bathroom sucked up the steam. Anya had tried just removing the heat from the steam, but that had just turned it all into puddles. The vent and a few other measures helped keep Anya’s room temperate.

“Can you even enjoy a hot shower anymore?” Tori asked.

“Kind of. It’s easier to enjoy a hot bath, but it basically has to be boiling for me to really feel it,” Anya said.

“That dominion stuff is something else. A few of your new squadmates have them too,” Tori said and held up a number of files.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to look at them in detail yet. I’m kinda surprised everybody is being so open with their builds. I’d figure it would be some big secret,” Anya said as she sat down on a plush couch across from the desk. Reggie immediately slithered through the air and draped himself over Anya’s shoulders. Her head was filled with soft contented oranges and rippling waves of gold. “Good boy.”

“That thing is so weird. I’m not sure he likes me,” Tori said.

“From what Felix was telling me, these Yjana elementals are plenty loyal, but just to their summoner. They’re just whatever towards other people most of the time unless you spend a lot of time around them. So who has the dominions? Anything fun?”

“That Kemuel guy from Trinidad and Tobago has the Wind Dominion. Looks like he built himself for speed. Those cool tattoos on his arms aren’t just for looks either: some kind magical ink to enhance strength and focus or something,” Tori said and Felix brought up the contact list. Since Anya had shaken his——and everybody else’s hands——he was on the list with the other hosts.

“Felix, put all the information in the files into the appropriate contact tabs when I read them,” Anya said.

“You got it boss!” Felix said and Kemuel’s details began to appear next to his name and picture. While Kemuel didn’t have any overt or obvious attack skills, he was fast enough to take a lap around the planet in a matter of seconds, and move quickly enough over short distances to effectively make copies of himself.

Thinking of a host that could multiply, Anya immediately thought of Renn. He had telekinesis or some kind of gravity power, and could duplicate himself several times over.

“Felix, do we have Renn’s stats?” Anya asked. “Or Mona’s, Kan’s, or Harrison’s?”

“Just Harrison, since he’s part of our squad,” Felix said. He pulled up the list and Anya stroked Reggie’s feathers as she studied it. It was about what she expected: focused on demon summoning and skills to aide him in that like squad tactics and demonic speech, among others.

“What about that redacted dominion skill? The Abyss one?” Tori asked.

“I’ve tried asking Felix about it before, but apart from the name, zero data,” Anya said.

“She’s right I’m afraid,” Felix said. “No idea why only that Dominion and skills were redacted, what they do, or anything else. Sorry about that!”

“Mmm,” Tori said. “So, as interesting as forbidden cosmic skills might be, I’d rather hear about how you asked Immonen out.”

“Yeaaaaaahhh,” Anya said. “Wasn’t much to it. Just asked him out.”

“So are you guys going this weekend?”

“We both agreed we’re too busy right now. After this strike,” Anya said. “If this is all successful and the four alien packs are taken down, there’s going to be some big meeting about how to go after Big Al. Doc…Garreth and I will set some time aside then.”

“Ooooooh. Garreth,” Tori said and fluttered her eyelashes at Anya. She rolled her eyes at her friend and smirked. “Not that I’m expecting things to go sideways, but do you think that’s smart?”

“What?” Anya asked.

“Waiting. I’m not saying you should hop into the sack with the guy but…well, anything could kinda happen at any time,” Tori said. “I certainly hope everything works out okay but things haven’t exactly been predictable and steady lately.”

“I thought about that, mentioned it to Garreth, but he’d already promised the EU he’d help them with some medical issues,” Anya said and shrugged. “And I didn’t want to sound like a selfish asshole. ‘Hey, I know you’re teaching people how to make life-saving alien medicine but I really wanna get some pizza and make-out.’ Not exactly a good first-date impression, y’know?”

“Yeah that’d be kinda crappy.”

“So to not focus on what could happen or how I might make an ass of myself, I’m doing homework,” Anya said and gestured at the stack of papers in front of Tori and the various menus Felix was making pop up around her. “The attack’s going to happen day-after-tomorrow. It should just be another wait and bomb like Canada, and like other people have been doing the last week.”

“Has Gary been giving everybody those bombs of his?” Tori asked.

“No, Gary doesn’t give out any offensive tech. Ever. But people have been managing. Zoya got some aliens with a Czar Bomba, Brody and Cooper and the Australian Navy used some sort of crushing vortex thing, Galtero flew up into the upper atmosphere and fired something he calls his orbital lance, and so on. It’s a lot easier to kill these things when we know where they are and we don’t have to worry about civilian casualties.”

“Well, here’s hoping. You think Renn’s right? That something’s fishy?”

Anya paused and thought. “Yeah. They’re alien, and whatever reason they’re here, why they take these weird-ass shapes, I don’t get it. But I’ve never once thought of them as stupid. The second alien I fought, the fridge, it built itself specifically to counter Gary and Samaira one day after fighting them. But now they’re all just rushing into what seem like obvious traps. I don’t think trying to take any of them in alive is good idea. Just kill them. Can’t play any tricks if you’re dead.”

“Yeah,” Tori nodded. “But Immonen and a lot of other people are dying to get their hands on a live specimen. And hey, if they do, maybe it’ll help us defeat the last big ones more easily?”

Anya sighed. “I hope so. God I hope so.”

“Well, hope in one hand and spit in the other,” Tori said.

“That’s not how that saying goes,” Anya replied. “But I get your point. You gonna help me go over these files?”

“Yeah. Maybe Reggie will start to warm up to me the more I hang around you. Oh! Accidental pun!”

“I got it!” Felix said. Anya rolled her eyes and sorted through the screens in front of her. She had to start somewhere, so decided to start with the hosts from the north and work her way down, and pulled up the two Canadian hosts as Reggie hugged her within his feathery coils.

Two Days Later

Mayaguana Island, Bahamas

185 miles West of Strike Point A

Anya stood on the eastern tip of a small island that probably would have taken her all of fifteen minutes to drive across. The air was balmy, the sun bright, the sky clear. The susurrus of the waves mixed with the quiet hissing of Reggie next to her ear. It was easy to forget that they were mere minutes away from a coordinated, global attack against some of the last remaining aliens.

“We have a problem,” Gary said behind Anya. Her stomach knotted and Reggie ruffled his feathers as he sensed her displeasure.

“Oh god,” Anya replied. “What?”

“Nothing too serious. Sam’s a little upset with one of the Canadian hosts. Not Harrison. The other one. His name’s Francis. Remember how when you first met Sam and me, how we said we’d lost a couple hosts fighting on the beach the night of the invasion?”

“Yeah,” Anya said.

“And after they were dead, some other host stole all their stuff?” Gary asked. Anya shut her eyes and let out a long breath through her nose. Actual steam came out and a few licks of flame. Reggie began scanning the area for any sign of what was disturbing his master.

“And this Francis guy is it. He stole the dead hosts things, looted their bodies instead of helping. And let me guess: Sam is pissed,” Anya said.

“A bit,” Gary said and barked out a short, humorless laugh. Samaira hadn’t mentioned her first alien fight much, but she’d brought the thieving host up once or twice when she and Anya had stayed up late talking in their quonset hut in Alaska.

Anya had told her how she still felt so bad about letting Carl and the cops die, about being so foolish and thinking she could keep points in reserve for “a better time,” when if she had spent them, taken a class, nobody would have died.

Samaira had told her she felt much the same way about the two hosts who had died during her first fight, but most of her ire had been directed at the looter. They could have helped, could have turned the tide of the fight and saved two innocent people, but their deaths were worth the price of their loot.

Anya had never seen Samaira get mad before. Fierce during a fight, sure, determined, almost always, and serious most of the time, but never mad. But just talking about the looter had made the woman’s blood run hot.

As if on cue, one of the field command tents a quarter mile away from the beach flashed in a sudden column of glowing blue aetheric light.

“Ah hell,” Gary said. Anya pushed herself the hundred yards or so to the command tent with Gravity Dominion and landed gently in front of it. The aetheric light had been mostly harmless, only damaging some assorted files and disturbing the hair of everyone near the tent. Samaira’s hair glowed with a galaxy of sparkling stars and Chandrali’s hackles were fully up.

Woman and tiger both closed on Francis, his light tan paling and his blue eyes wide.

“Back the hell off!” Francis said, hands up as he backed away. “Christ, they were already dead!”

“That’s not the point!” Samaira said. “And how am I supposed to trust you during a field operation like this when you’re clearly only interested in saving your own ass while others die?”

“That’s not what happened!” Francis said.

“Sam!” Anya said and touched Samaira’s shoulder. She was surrounded by raw aether, the formless, mutable energy of the cosmos. Her Light Dominion picked up on the potential of the pure energy around the other woman, sensing its boundless depth for creation. The raw energy shifted to a series of razor-sharp, aether-coated spikes of ice when Anya got close and she backed away at once.

“Hey!” Anya said. Samaira looked at her over her shoulder, saw the spikes and immediately calmed down.

“I’m sorry. Just a reaction. But this…” she said and bit her lip as she jabbed a finger at Francis. “This person has no business here. He can’t be trusted and I have first-hand experience!”

“The Canadian government feels otherwise,” Harrison replied. “And whatever he did before, right now he’s not the one interrupting vital field operations before we begin our attack on the aliens.”

“Ask Gary then if you won’t listen to me!” Samaira demanded.

“Sam, easy,” Gary said as he jogged up behind Anya. Samaira looked at Gary and started to protest before she saw all the military grunts and officers and USAIF agents staring at her, their eyes wide.

“Fine. Sorry,” Samaira said and left the tent.

“Holy shit. She crazy or something?” Francis asked.

“Look son, I don’t know much about you except you stole from the dead instead of helping the living. That makes you lower than a snake’s balls in my book,” Gary said. “But for now I’m gonna let it slide. Just do your job and keep your mouth shut.”

Francis started to say something before Harrison clamped a hand over his mouth.

“He’ll be very cooperative,” Harrison said and smiled.

“What the hell is going on?” Director MacDougal said as she strode toward the tent. Riley and Ramierez at her sides. Chell and Pan were close behind her, both of them looking worried. Kemuel landed behind them in a gust of wind and stared after Samaira as she stalked off.

“Minor disagreement. Taken care of now,” Gary said.

“I hope so. We’re an hour out from decoy activation and I don’t need any super-powered kindergarten antics,” MacDougal said.

“Go check on her?” Gary asked Anya and she nodded. She left Gary behind to smooth things over with MacDougal and hurried after Samaira’s distant figure. She stood at the edge of the beach, where the swaying grass turned to pale yellow sand. Her slim arms were folded across her chest, and her translucent, glittering blue shoulder cape fluttered in the wind. Chandrali sat beside her, her big head tilted to lean against Samaira’s side.

“Sam?” Anya asked as she approached, but Samaira didn’t turn to look. “Hey. Gary and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m just being stupid. They’re right. I shouldn’t bring this up now. It probably won’t even matter. Gary’s bombs will do all the hard work. We’ll go in and mop up, worst case scenario. It’s not like that first fight in Chicago,” Samaira said.

“Yeah, but it’s still okay to be pissed at the guy. He sounds like a real fucking——”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, all right?” Samaira said as she turned her head just enough to look at Anya out of the corner of her eye. Her words were soft but she said them quickly enough to stop whatever else Anya might have said.

Anya balked and stepped back. Samaira had never spoken to her like this, ever. After Alaska, they’d gotten almost as close as she and Tori. Two weeks crammed into a freezing quonset hut tends to make or break people, and Anya thought it had made them closer friends.

“Uh, sure. I’m sorry,” Anya said, confusion obvious in her voice. “I’ll just head back.”

Samaira didn’t answer. Anya left her there on the beach and returned to the command tents to ready what she hoped would be one of their final attacks.