Chapter 18

Odin slunk to the back of the Armory with Sprinkles hot on his heels. There was so much they needed to do to prepare. The Hive would not stop at sending this newcomer to take the weapons...if the Hive even wanted the weapons in the first place.

"You seem uneased," Sprinkles said.

It's best to use the Link to speak now, Odin said as he caught sight of Freyja undressing at the other end of the building. She had pulled her mind out of the Link entirely and was going to just, bed down and sleep.

Are you sure that won't disturb her?

It won't. She's no longer in the Link.

Sprinkles leaned around Odin so he could see what he was looking at just as Freyja covered herself in her blanket and turned off the work light near her air mattress.

We are her prisoners.

She is our ally, Odin corrected. Possibly the only one we will encounter on this planet.

You trust her not to kill us? Is she not only using us?

If she wanted to kill us she'd use the Link to overpower and eclipse us both, taking our knowledge in the process. She may be using us, yes, but that doesn't mean she's our enemy, Odin explained.

What do you propose we do? Sprinkles asked, still watching as Freyja's breathing slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep.

She looked vulnerable.

We could kill her, Sprinkles suggested after Odin had remained quiet for too long.

By all means do so, if you'd like to see the gods before the sun rises.

Even she said she's not the gods.

Odin turned his head slowly to stare at Sprinkles. How could the Hive have left the mission up to this one? Sprinkles was gullible, fear filled, and dim. He shut his eyes when the answer hit him.

What is it? Sprinkles asked.

Did you make your communicator to contact the Hive before you came here? Odin asked.

Yes. The Local Probe gave me directions to reach the Armory, Sprinkles replied.

Did it tell you about when the rest of your unit was to arrive?

No.

Odin knew the answer would be 'no' but asked anyway, Do you still have your communicator?

I was told to destroy it.

Were you told to make another communicator or await orders some other way? Odin asked.

No.

Odin shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. They were both meant to die. It was the only explanation. The Hive wanted Odin to die via a decrepit Host and lack of viable Spark. There was no way the Local Probe would have missed that the Old Man had been taken to a hospital well before Odin was in his Host. It also wouldn't have missed the shape his Host was in to begin with. Meanwhile, Sprinkles was only a mindless grunt. He'd only serve well to monitor the area temporarily. It was possible the Local Probe would be in the area itself to hold the location once the Invasion was closer to being public. It was also possible the Armory was merely a dumping ground for those the Hive wanted to kill off.

Is there a problem? Sprinkles asked.

It's nothing. Try to get some rest. These bodies do not have the stamina of a Human unless we modify them greatly.

Odin found a spot where he could still see Freyja's bed, curled up in a ball, and did his best to sleep.

***

Odin's best wasn't good enough. His dreams were filled with visions of the Hive shirking tradition to bring the full brunt of their technology to bear on the people of Earth. There were reasons they used resources already on planets they targeted beyond making it sporting to take over. It often did less damage to the planet and its natural life. Humans had nuclear weapons, but the Hive wouldn't use them during their invasion. The world itself was as much their goal as gaining new Hosts.

We preserve and protect the planets we take, Odin thought to himself, careful not to wake either Sprinkles nor Freyja.

The fact that the Hive had betrayed Odin was indisputable. They had intended for him to die on this planet well before the Invasion was underway.

Would the Hive raze the planet?

Other worlds with creatures similar to Humans had been invaded in the past. Yes, it was always an expensive endeavor. Odin had spoken several times before the Top Cats in the last one hundred years about why it was necessary to continue the practice of using local Hosts and native weaponry. His opinions had been met with respect, or so he thought at the time. It could have been veiled contempt, hidden just well enough so as not to appear they were outright spitting in his face.

It became more obvious the more he thought.

He hadn't been popular for a number of reasons, his ardent support for the old ways and traditions chief among them.

No wonder the Hive wanted him dead.

Odin gazed over at Sprinkles, who slept in a little ball nearby. There was no telling why the Hive wanted him dead. They didn't have enough information about what was really going on. He had to find a way to gather intelligence. Normally, contacting the Local Probe would be how one got updated on the status of their mission.

Is there even going to be an Invasion? He wondered.

Speculating with no real information was infuriating.

He had to do something.

The sun started to filter in through the window of the Armory as he formed a plan. If the Hive had written him off for dead he could force their hand by contacting the Local Probe. It would put them at a bit of a disadvantage but it might also prevent the Hive from sending any more grunts like Sprinkles. That was, if they were even interested in the weapons within the Armory.

He didn't know exactly what the building held aside from Freyja's supplies, the safes themselves, and the armored infantry suit under its tarp. It was unlikely he'd find the supplies he needed to create a communicator in either the Armory or the house itself. Which meant he'd need to leave to find the necessary materials. Traveling by foot to get them would take too long, even if he shapeshifted to a larger size.

Odin quietly got to his feet and slunk over to the door of the Armory. Sprinkles didn't notice and continued to sleep. Freyja showed no signs of waking either. The sounds of birds outside made his ears and tail twitch. He needed to leave as soon as possible.