They stopped to refuel within a hundred miles of CAM-3. Marinakis could see it in her mind’s eye, and as she leaned against the door of the forward observers’ CATV she could almost will its white radome into existence, something spherical that was actually good. Her joints were starting to ache. She hoped that it was from sitting so long. She knew that probably wasn’t true.
She heard crunching behind her, and McAiden appeared at her side. “So am I basically your second-in-command now?”
Marinakis snorted but kept staring ahead. “Sure. Field promotion. Get on your knees and we’ll do it like the knights. I’m the queen of the smallest kingdom in the world.” She looked over and he was crying. She didn’t do anything but look back to the north.
Then she saw movement on the ice. What now…
They were shadows at first, indistinct blobs of black, but they were getting closer. She stood up straight, and looked up to the gunner. Silently, she pointed at him, and pointed forward. He slewed the gun around. More of her platoon crunched up behind her to look.
They were more distinct shapes now, and clearly humanoid. But they were tall, and they were walking towards the platoon. There was a settlement one-hundred miles north of CAM-3. That was a long way to go on foot. Any motors would have carried over the ice.
“Lieutenant…” the gunner whispered. She brought her finger to her lips.
Whoever they were, they were very thin, and very stretched out. There were three. They walked as if on stilts, deliberately and almost unbending.
At fifty yards she saw that the torsos were as thin as the legs. Concerningly, the heads were narrow as well, cylindrical lumps of stretched flesh.
The figures had a haziness to their borders. The interface between their bodies and the environment seemed to be statistical in nature, fluctuating due to some unknown physical law.
McAiden started walking towards them.
“Hey,” Marinakis whispered, “get back here. Don’t go over there.” When he kept walking she tried, “That’s an order, don’t move.” He ignored her. She wanted to go after him, but was frozen in place.
The soldier, the newly promoted second-in-command, kept walking, taking long lurching steps. The figures continued to approach.
“Want me to shoot?” the gunner asked.
“No, but get ready. On my order.” She turned to the rest of her platoon. They were all, fortunately, rooted in place.
McAiden continued to approach. The figures noticed him. They walked to him, and when they were within a few feet extended out long, spindly arms. She watched as McAiden reached back, a chunky arm weighed down by military equipment.
They touched. The strange tableau froze. She wondered if they were saying anything.
Then McAiden collapsed.
The gunner yelled and opened fire, but the figures had already vanished.
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