Alien Diplomacy

like the ickiest, scariest dog in the world. “I guess it’s, um, attached to the remote.”
    “At least we’ll know where it is.”
    “Good point.”
    We took a look around. The hotel was huge, and we weren’t in the parking garage, we were in a basement of some kind. While it was actually quite spacious from a height perspective—the supersoldier didn’t have to bend over, and there was at least two feet of clearance between its head and the ceiling—it was, naturally, one of those rat maze basements, because my luck wouldn’t allow me to fall into a wide-open room with exits clearly marked unless there was a nuclear bomb set to go off in less than a second.
    “We should hear something, wouldn’t you think?” I asked as we crept along, the supersoldier making far less noise than I’d have expected. I checked its feet. “Wow, rubberized soles. It’s nice to see today’s evil geniuses going Old School and really adding on those extra touches that mean so much. Craftsmanship and attention to detail are always appreciated.”
    “If they’re stationary, we won’t hear anything,” Adriana said.
    No sooner were the words out of her mouth than I spotted light reflecting off of something very shiny. We both flattened against the nearest wall. The supersoldier did the same, although, with all its arms, prongs, blades, and such, “flattened” was more of an attempt than a success.
    We were near a hallway. I listened but didn’t hear anything, so I risked a look around the corner. I was rewarded with a great view of a platoon of supersoldiers. I counted eleven, meaning my personal robotic pal made the even dozen. These people were really into the number twelve for some reason. I was sure it would end up having some weird, evil bad-guy significance in numerology or something; it sounded like the way they rolled.
    The supersoldiers resembled each other, though a quick count showed that some had different numbers of appendages. I gave upcounting the different extras on each one. Bottom line was they were all ten feet tall, encased in what I knew even without asking was a special kind of hard-to-destroy metal, each with a parasitic superbeing inside.
    What I didn’t see was anyone in charge of them.
    But before I ran out and got shot by someone I merely hadn’t seen, I examined the remote. There were a lot of buttons on it. None of them were marked. Naturally. I considered hitting some at random but decided I was thrilled to still be alive and unscathed.
    This left us with a couple of guns as our entire assault force. I didn’t feel like channeling General Custer.
    Nothing for it. I did the silent motions to tell Adriana to stay put and stepped out. Sadly, Spiky wasn’t clued in to hand signals and stepped right out with me. I froze, waiting for someone to speak or shoot. Nothing.
    Adriana joined me. “I think we’re alone here.”
    “Huh. Cartwright was pretty confident she was going to kill me.” I considered this. “And she’d have been right if not for your grandmother.”
    We stepped closer to the other supersoldiers, and as we did, Spiky took its place with its brethren. They were three abreast in four lines.
    As we walked around the platoon, I heard a bonging sound. It sounded far away. “What’s that?”
    Adriana cocked her head. “I believe that’s a fire alarm.”
    “Huh. You think that was the signal for them to attack?”
    “I doubt it. Fire alarms tend to make people run out of the building.”
    The light dawned. “Amy figured out my clue!” As I said this, I heard the sound of voices in the distance. Adriana and I looked at each other and moved so that the platoon hid us. I took my shoes off; she did the same. I considered and ripped the bottom of my dress off, though I held onto the skirt, just in case.
    I heard a scream. It sounded like a scream of rage more than grief. “They’ve found Cartwright’s body,” I whispered.
    She nodded. “They’ll come looking for us, then.”
    I studied the remote. “God, I wish Chuckie was down here with us. He’d probably have a decent guess for how this works.”
    “It has to be simple enough for the average person to use.”
    “Does it? These are the prototypes.” I looked back at the remote. There were twelve buttons on the top, arranged three across in four columns. There were also buttons on the sides, three of them, whereit would be easy for someone to use their thumb to activate. No time like the present to find out. I hit