“Love is a poor timekeeper.” Crispin Beasley.

Ben paced behind the sofa, wringing his hands. He turned to Raul and Crispin. “It's been forty-five minutes.”

The Prince and the Royal Secretary sat at opposite ends of the sofa facing one another. They watched Ben pace and were concerned. Raul said, “Dios Santo! You'll wear a trench.”

Crispin said, “She'll call. She said she would. Sit and wait.”

Ben's voice pitched high. “How can I wait?!”

Raul looked at his wrist comm. “And, it's only been thirty minutes,” he said.

Raul looked to Crispin for support. Crispin shrugged and replied, “Love is a poor timekeeper.”

“We need to do something,” said Ben.

“What?” asked Raul.

Ben stopped pacing and threw up his hands. “I don't know,” said Ben with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “Go to Hell's Balls and look for her.”

“Ben. Ben,” said Raul, rising from the sofa to confront and calm his friend. “She's an armed Constable. She has military training.” Raul placed his hands on Ben's shoulders only to see Ben droop into a dispirited state. “Trust her.”

Just then, Raul's wrist comm chimed. Raul tapped it on and Heaven spoke immediately. “It's as I thought,” said Heaven. The transmission ended with a loud noise.

Ben looked between Raul and Crispin, fear in his eyes, then pulled away from Raul and raced up the stairs, leaving Raul with one hand in the air as he gaped.

“Go,” said Crispin. “I'll finish up.”

Raul raced through the upper hall of the Embassy. The Orlainese guards ran close behind him. As he pulled his Ambassador's jacket over dusty work clothes, Raul called over his shoulder to the guards. “We'll take your cruiser. I want weapons for myself and Ben.”

Raul and the guards slammed through the admitting door, and as Raul skidded to a halt to look around, the guards made a dead run for the cruiser in the circular drive. Raul spotted Ben beyond the open gate; he stood on the street attempting to hail a public skid.

The cruiser pulled up beside Raul and the back door opened. Raul shouted for Ben's attention. “Ben! Ben!”

Ben turned. Raul balanced in the open door as the cruiser pulled up. Even so, Ben ran to it like a man grasping at straws. Ben dove through the back door of the moving cruiser; the driver closed it from the controls.

Raul spoke in a commanding voice. “Five kilometers due north. Top speed.”

The cruiser landed by The Dinglemeyer General Store. Ben jumped out gun drawn. Raul and the Orlainese guards followed. Raul clutched at Ben's elbow.

“Wait,” said Raul. “This way.”

As the guards swept the immediate surroundings through the sights on their guns, Raul pulled Ben up on the wooden boardwalk of the general store. To the right of the door were stacked crates and odd boxes; it looked like someone was moving.

Raul said to Ben, “The old mine is to our left, down this street. To our right is a small city center. This was the Dinglemeyer store.”

Ben looked at the worn lettering of the store name and asked, “Who makes up these names?”

At that moment, the door opened and the elderly proprietor came through carrying a box, and breathing laboriously.

“Mr. Dinglemeyer,” said Raul. “It's me. Raul.”

The old man passed Raul the box and wiped his brow with a rag from his hip pocket. “Raul?” asked Dinglemeyer, squinting. “Why are you here? I thought you left.”

“Dios Santo!” said Raul. “The place looks so dead.”

Four ear-piercing clicks rang out. Dinglemeyer fell. Both guards fell. A piece of the store front exploded. Ben dove behind the crates and rolled to a ready position. Raul followed with less graceful moves. As the crates behind which they hid took a salvo of enemy fire, Raul stuck his weapon around the side of the crates and fired blindly. Ben closed his eyes and listened with the pirini.

Five armored werewolves marched up the street alternating fire. They walked boldly forward using their firing pattern as a shield. The pirini listened, and Ben knew the pause in their pattern. He stood and made five precise shots. Five bodies fell in the street.

Amazed, Raul stood and looked. He began to smile but noticed another group of aliens walking around the corner of a distant building. He grabbed Ben's elbow and pulled him into a run.

“Chingale! Vamos!” said Raul.

The street wound around and down toward the mine. Barren trees dotted the street with spots of melting snow on the road verge. Ben and Raul raced ahead of the alien advance. Trees exploded behind them as weapons fire missed them by millimeters. The abandoned mine was just ahead in the lowest part of the street.

The barricade tape gave way as Raul and Ben slid into hiding behind steel drums. Ben stood and took several quick shots. Raul turned and shot the lock that sealed the mine entrance. While Ben dropped the advancing aliens, Raul pulled the chain free and pried open the rusty iron door.

“Hurry!” he called to Ben.

Ben joined Raul inside the dark mine. He dropped five more of the enemy; some thirty of them still advanced. Hunkering in snow melt, they inhaled.

“Keep doing what you do,” said Raul. “I have to find something.”

The iron door rang as it took sustained enemy fire. Ben watched Raul walk into the dark recesses of the mine, then returned fire. He stopped and listened. He could briefly hear Raul slogging through deeper snow melt. Taking a quick peek around the door, Ben estimated some twenty of the hairy beasts remained. A second group of fifteen marched down the incline packing larger guns.

Ben turned and called into the dark, “My charge is low.”

Raul answered, “Use mine.”

The gun sailed out of the dark. Ben sensed it before he saw it. His senses amazed him, as Ben picked the gun from mid-air, turned, and dropped several aliens. Ben ducked inside just as the iron door rocked from a larger impact.

Ben called anxiously, “Whatever you're looking for, please find it now.”

Raul emerged from the dark dragging a case through the melt. He held a mining injector in his other hand. “Found it,” he said.

Ben took shots and asked, “What is it?”

“Pyrox, man.” Raul opened the top of a case, removed a tube of the explosive, and screwed a charge to one end. He slid the timer to the low end while he explained. “We can use this mining injector like a bazooka. I just have to set a null charge. It'll explode in their faces, take out maybe, I don't know, ten, I guess.”

Ben turned and watched the Prince make light work of the explosives. With five primed Pyrox tubes in one hand, Raul looked up with a smile. He nodded. Ben turned and fired Raul's handgun. Several aliens fell; Raul stepped quickly beyond the door. He dropped a tube into the business end of the injector and pressed the stud.

He had counted a dozen or so rising from behind the steel drums. He ducked behind the door with Ben and the Pyrox detonated. The blast wave rushed through the door with a sound that made their ears ring. Dust and smoke billowed in; Raul peeked. The blast area was a black circle on the street, bodies lay strewn and unmoving. A lone steel drum rolled through the smoke and stopped against the iron door.

“Woo-hoo!” Raul exulted. “Hell yeah!”

Ben took a look and was impressed. He slapped the happy Prince on the back and said. “I'll carry the case.”

Crouching low, running with focused stealth, Ben and Raul made their way up the street and toward the city center. Caution was in every breath, as they peered around walls and building corners in all directions. They took cover among leafless bushes that afforded a view of the downtown skyline. One building stood out, a metal-clad warehouse with an upper loft and pulley.

From the open loft came gunfire. Enemy fire returned making the loft door swing out. Then a large strike knocked the loft door from its hinges. As the door fell, distant and soundless to Ben and Raul, Ben turned to the Prince.

“She's there,” said Ben. “Heaven's in that warehouse.”

Raul said, “I know a shortcut through the alleys. Follow me.”

Small alleys, filled with trash, had the singular advantage of stealth. While the hairy armored hoards freely roamed the streets, Ben and Raul advanced unnoticed. Raul stopped Ben at the back door of a corrugated workshop; the door was chained and locked.

“Give me a minute,” Raul whispered to Ben.

Raul drew on experience and memory to open the lock. A bent paper clip wedged into the door frame had remained for years untouched. Raul pulled it free with a smile and turned the lock up. Beside the keyhole was a small drilled hole. Raul inserted the paper clip and the lock opened without a sound. Raul took down the chain with great care and ushered Ben into the dark interior.

“Over here,” said Raul to Ben.

Ben followed Raul around crates and between work benches covered in tools and dust. They walked beside a mammoth vehicle meant for the mine, its exterior like an armored tank. Raul beckoned and Ben joined him near a sliding garage door next to boarded showroom windows. The light from outside bled through cracks in the boards. Raul peeked between them for a look outside.

Raul whispered, “The warehouse is in the next block, but the streets are crawling.”

Ben counted thirty aliens. Some left, others returned. Squads, armed to the canines, marched in and out between the abandoned city offices. The back-pointing knees gave the hairy aliens a stride like an ostrich. Ben got Raul's attention and turned to look at the large mining vehicle. Raul nodded.

Ben winced at the noise as the hood of the vehicle came up grudgingly. Raul checked the engine using his wrist light while Ben held the injector and Pyrox tubes. Raul pressed the hood shut with slow careful moves and gave Ben a nod as he retrieved the injector and charged explosives. The Prince pulled Ben close and whispered in his ear.

“I'll drive,” said Raul. “I'll show you how to work the injector so you can ride shotgun.”

Raul sat behind the steering wheel. Ben sat in the passenger seat with the case of Pyrox between his feet, his window rolled down. Raul checked his settings before tapping on the engine. He turned to Ben, and the two of them shared a mutual nod. Raul tapped the ignition pad and immediately felt the familiar vibration of the ore transport vehicle. Depressing the foot brake, Raul cycled the transmission to drive and took a deep breath.

The OTV lurched forward and crashed through the sliding garage door. Daylight stung their eyes as they barreled forward into the enemy ranks. Aliens scattered, raising weapons to fire. Ben, turning his face away, pressed the injector stud. The detonation followed immediately, rocking the OTV and raising it briefly on two wheels. Bodies flew through the air while smoke and fire roiled and billowed.

“Too close!” shouted Raul as he fought to right the vehicle and make a left turn. “¡Eso no es una pistola, viejo!”

They raced between the buildings and came to the next block; the warehouse was just ahead. Unfortunately for the intrepid pair, so was a squad of more than fifty aliens, all of them firing their weapons. The armor plating took the alien fire, but the windshield cracked in several places.

Raul shouted, “¡Hijo de puta!”

Ben shouted, “Turn left!”

Raul yanked the wheel left, and Ben leaned out the window to fire the injector. There was an immediate shock wave that rocked the OTV. Alien bodies flew into the air as Ben loaded another charged tube.

Raul said, “¡Santa Madre! My life is flashing in front of my eyes, man.”

Ben said, “Turn right.”

Raul turned right around the corner of the warehouse. At the intersection ahead of them stood another squad of alien werewolves. Getting the hang of the injector, Ben reached out his window and fired forward.

Ben said, “Turn right.”

Raul could feel the front tires lift from the pavement and moaned, “Ah, man!”

Raul made the turn, and to his relief, there were no aliens at the intersection ahead of them. Ben pointed to the sky where three police cruisers hovered overhead. They turned right again and Ben fired ahead at a small group of disoriented aliens. The final turn brought them to the front door.

With no moving aliens in sight, Ben leaped from the OTV and ran to the front door. Of Course! It had to be locked. Ben kicked the door and was thrown back. He kicked again as Raul came to his side.

“Just shoot it,” said Raul.

Ben looked at Raul, then said, “Oh, yeah.”

Ben pulled Raul's gun from his belt, and the two of them stepped back. Turning his face away, Ben fired at the lock. The lock was destroyed but the door still stood. Raul kicked the door; Ben joined him. On their third attempt, the door came open and Ben raced inside.

“Heaven! Heaven!” Ben called at top volume.

Finding the stairs, Ben raced to the upper level calling Heaven's name. Raul followed, but with a wary eye on the open door. Heaven could not be found. As Raul caught up to Ben, Ben was kicking a crate in frustration.

Raul said, “We'll make a thorough search. If she's not here, she got away.”

Ben, searching his friend's earnest face, took a deep breath and gave a nod. Raul and Ben searched the upper area. Then, they searched the main area downstairs. Raul called for Ben's attention. Raul stood pointing at the back door as Ben approached.

Raul said, “It's open. Looks like she got away.”

Stepping into an empty street, they saw a blue military Dart fly overhead.