When Aliens Weep: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga

by J. K. Accinni

  “It is called a skate.”

  Like a five-inch cobra, it focused on the block of wood in the far corner of its shared space. And then it vanished. The Elders laughed nervously, glancing at one another as if to ask “Did we see that?”

  “Allow me to caution you, my Brother and Sisters. Do not take your eyes off the skate.”

  “But it’s gone, Forbation,” declared Jose. “There is nothing to keep our eyes on.”

  Forbation bristled. “Patience and well-trained powers of observation are skills I recommend highly, Brother Jose.”

  “Look!” shouted Wil. Before the word had fully left his lips, the skate reappeared. It was hanging in the air three feet over the piece of wood. Its head dipped down and what everyone had assumed was its eye detached from the body like a projectile and attached to the wood, sending up a spark of light that promptly blinked out, taking the block of wood with it.

  The corner where the wood had stood was now empty. All eye turned to the skate. Where the previous eye had detached sat a brand new eye, milky and new. As they watched, the milkiness disappeared, shed off in a clump of discarded cells to float to the floor.

  The skate then turned back on itself and dropped down toward the remains of the cube where it had been housed. Landing on the shards, it curled itself into a ball. The shards reattached and sat as seamlessly as it had been before the disappearance of the stick of wood.

  “Huh.” Jose turned to Forbation. “Well, that was cool. It made the wood disappear.”

  Wil rested his hand on Jose’s shoulder. “I think there’s more to it than that, Jose.”

  Forbation seemed pleased, though his aura plucked somberly. “Have you not learned that all is never exactly as it seems here in the Womb?”

  “The wood didn’t just disappear, did it, Brother Forbation?” asked Wil.

  “That is correct, Brother Wil. It was actually evaporated. There might be some cells left from the wood that we could locate on the floor but I doubt it. The temperature inside the cube is now high enough to create the energy it would take to power what was known as New York City from your vanquished planet for three hundred years. The power of the skate is immense. We have never been able to completely measure it.”

  Forbation raised his staff, the signal for several minions that stood by to go into action. They hurried up to the cube with a slender black contraption that sank into the cube. Elaborate tubing of a never-before-seen metal emerged from the contraption.

  Jose scoffed. “A book of matches would do the same thing, just take longer.”

  “That is where you are dead wrong, my Brother.” Forbation faced the group. “The skate is quite a weapon. It adjusts its power based on the size and composition of its adversary. Had it been a piece of metal, the spark would have been larger. Had it been a city, we would not be standing here.”

  Forbation’s statement was met with surprise. “A city? The skate has that power?”

  Forbation turned to Netty. “Yes, my dear Sister. The skate has the power of all of the bombs that destroyed your planet so long ago all rolled into one . . . and more.”

  More than one face drained of blood.

  “Brother Forbation, isn’t it a risk to house it here?”

  Forbation smiled, his aura calm and confident. “There is no better place to contain it. We cannot risk it falling into the wrong hands or worse yet, escape. It could destroy our planet or any other it found in its line of sight. We discovered a cold environment renders it mostly harmless. It’s alive yet not entirely organic. It does not have a brain as we know brains but does respond to electrical and some chemical stimulation. It cannot communicate. It is a very ancient weapon and at one time was controlled by its maker. We do not attempt to control it. Merely subdue it.”

  He pointed to the minions who held the tubing up to the cube. “We are sucking out the energy for use elsewhere. The frigid atmosphere will re-establish itself and the skate will ‘hibernate’ until another object crosses its path and dares to challenge it. It only takes a few minutes before the skate is armed again, as you saw.”

  “Maya, please leave Echo alone.” Netty had turned to see her daughter tugging on the hapless minion. She squatted down, her wings lifting high to clear the floor. She clutched her daughter in her arms as the child attempted to squirm away. “This isn’t playtime, Maya. Now behave or I will have you taken back to the nursery.”

  “I don’t want to be with the babies,” Maya sulked, continuing to twist in her mother’s arms.

  “Stop. I mean it, young lady.”

  Wil’s arm shot out from nowhere to subdue his truculent daughter. “That’s enough, right now.”

  As her father cowed her, Maya stood silent, all of the adults’ attention now back with Forbation as he moved them along to another display.

  “You will be pleased to see we did not forget the weapons of Earth.”

  And there they were. Laid out as proudly as any earthly gun collector could dream about. The array was mind-boggling. From the antique long guns, flintlock pistols and infantry rifles to the more modern Glock, Walther, Sig, and Smith & Wesson. Further down the line sat machine guns and torpedoes. Alongside every weapon sat open boxes of ammunition.

  “We test them from time to time. They are kept in top-notch condition,” Forbation’s aura preened.

  Jose reached out to examine a little Beretta 3032 semi-automatic pistol. “I bet you wish you had something like this in your pocket way back when, Netty, huh? Perfect for a woman to hide in her apron.” Jose aimed the Beretta at a passing minion.

  “Jose!” A panic-stricken Abby knocked his hand aside.

  “Brother Jose.” Forbation’s cane struck Jose’s hand, knocking the weapon to the ground with a clatter.

  Jose stood perplexed, his gun hand cradled, wincing in pain.

  “I was just playing, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Who plays with weapons, Jose? Really.”

  Wil bent over to pick up the Beretta, placing it back on the table to rest alongside its neighbor. “I’m so sorry, Brother Forbation. Your hospitality and heart is immense. But I think we will accept this as the end of our tour. I’m sure you understand.”

  Forbation bowed at the waist. The crowd moved to the front of the room, Jose’s face beet-red.

  With the attention off the weapons table, no one noticed Maya snaking her small hand out to lift the Berretta, jam it into her fanny pack, and skip happily back to her mother.

  ***

  Dezi mopped the floor underneath his work bench. Setting the mop aside, he pulled his stool up to the bench and reached for the paper Forbation had left with him. He turned the pages on what had started out to be general notes and recipes with comments regarding the likes and dislikes of the survivors. It had morphed into a diary of sorts with Dezi jotting down other observations in the kitchen. It was surprising how many secrets and adventures were aired over a hefty slice of sweet pie with its fluffy lemon texture that had been ground from the slender but prolific vines cultivated in the minions’ growing field. The vines also made an unbreakable rope when dried and woven together.

  Dezi picked up his ink pen and started writing. He shook his head and laughed to himself over the antics from dinner last night. He wondered if Jose was ever going to be allowed back with the rest of them. He almost felt sorry for the poor guy. But you just can’t go pulling a gun on someone and threatening to kill them.

  And if it hadn’t been for Hud, who had liberated the gun from Jose, they might have a dead Cobby on their hands. Dezi wondered if Forbation would have let Cobby die. Or if they had some kind of healing procedure like they had in the Hive back on Earth.

  Dezi felt an ache in the back of his abdomen as he thought of Earth. Pushing the yearning aside, he forced himself to continue to write. It was getting late and he wanted to drop in on Bonnie before he went to bed.

  He’d seen the navigator minion hanging around earlier. What was her name . . . IV? He wondered what the attraction was.
He thought he’d seen the minion’s fire butterfly leave ribbons of light down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  He looked down on the paper at his childish doodles. He would love it if some day Bonnie would take him seriously. But he knew it would never happen until that last spark about rescuing Peter faded from her mind, and that might take years. He sighed. That’s just the way women are, he mused, sighing again. Always a groomsman, never a groom.

  ***

  Ivey stood at the entrance to Bonnie’s bedroom, watching as she played with an infant on her bed. The infant crawled toward the edge and Bonnie scooped him up, shaking and tickling until the baby burst with shrieks and laughter, baby blather flooding the room.

  “Hello, Ivey. Come on in,” shouted Bonnie amid the squeals. “This kid is exhausting me.”

  Two minion heads peeked around the edges of a chair, ecstatic golden faces that had eyes only for Bonnie and Baby Peter. Bonnie nodded toward her fans. “They’re waiting to take the baby back to the nursery. You would think the baby was theirs the way they fuss over it. I can’t even get into the nursery . . . it’s so crammed with minions that want to hold the babies.”

  Ivey made her way to the bed, her aura casting out to Bonnie. “Do you mind if I touch him?”

  “Not you too, Ivy?”

  “The babies are special. We don’t bring the young of any species here. And we are born fully mature with all memories of our history intact. Our cells contain all the information we need and anything that is missing is supplied by the collective mind of our species. So we have very little exposure to newborns or young. And of course, the babies have come from you. You who are part of us yet very separate. We don’t get a chance to establish relationships with our birth parent after we are born. They expire shortly after giving birth. It is more like providing a replacement to continue the missions for the Womb.” Ivey’s aura slowed. She glanced at Bonnie from underneath her long eyelashes. “You are so mysterious and special to us. We are trying to understand some of your customs.” Bonnie covered Baby Peter, snuggling him tightly into the covers as the nursery minions looked on, golden noses inching closer to the baby.

  “And what customs are you wondering about, Ivey?”

  “Well, I know you are still mourning the Brother you call your husband. If you need a husband, why not just chose another one? I can tell Brother Dezi will be fine with that. He wants you to pick him next. Then you will be happy again.”

  Bonnie laughed as her cheeks burned. “No Ivey, it doesn’t work that way. I’m not in love with Dezi. I mean, I love him but I’m not in love with him. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ivey’s aura slowed. “What about me? Do you love me? I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you when I was coming in from a mission. Do you remember that, Sister Bonnie?” Bonnie was shocked to silence.

  Ivey’s aura continued, “You were so sad. I wanted to make you happy. That is love, is it not?”

  Bonnie clasped Ivey’s hand in hers. “There are many kinds of love,” she started slowly. “I love both you and Dezi. You are my friend. But Peter was my husband. It’s different.”

  “Yes, I know. You have intercourse to have babies. You don’t want to have intercourse with Dezi?”

  Bonnie looked aghast and laughed at the same time. “You are very funny, Ivey. But no. I don’t love Dezi the same way I love Peter. Dezi does things for me because we are great friends. Best friends. But that’s not enough to build a married life.”

  “He does things for you? I can do things for you. I will marry you, Sister Bonnie. We can have offspring. I will implant your eggs and give birth for you.”

  “Oh honey, come here.” Bonnie took Ivey into her arms. “I love you for making such a fine offer. But my heart still belongs to Peter. It’s the human way. He will always be my first love. Maybe in time I’ll get over it but I doubt it. Besides, I don’t think an interspecies mating . . . er . . . coupling would be the right way to go here. We are both females by the way. In my race, we mate with a man to have a baby.”

  “Yes, I know, Sister.” The aura whispered the dead serious thoughts of the eager navigator. “But I will check with Forbation.” Ivey slid off the bed. “I will tell him of my need and we will make a new rule. I will go find him now.” Before Bonnie could dissuade the misguided minion. Ivey wobbled to the door, encountering Dezi, then disappeared.

  “Hey, babe. What’s up? Dezi strolled into the room, waving to the minions drooling over the baby.

  Bonnie fell back on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “It looks like I have another problem on my hands. Turns out Ivy, the navigator, has become a big fan of mine.”

  “What’s new about that? She’s been hanging around here every chance she gets. Just like a hundred other minions.”

  Bonnie shook her head. “I don’t think so, Dezi. This is something different. Something personal.” Bonnie swallowed, pensiveness deep in her voice, “I can always use another friend but she said something about wanting to have a baby together. I get this gender confusion with them all the time. It’s hard to tell the males from the females in the first place and they don’t seem to care since either sex can have a baby.” She laughed ruefully. “I guess science really has come far on this planet.” Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “Do you suppose she’s serious?”

  Dezi rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. It might be another form of worship. They’re all crazy about us, or haven’t you noticed?”

  Bonnie yawned. “Yeah, I guess it’s just their way. Maybe if I see Echo, I’ll ask her about it.” Turning to pick up Baby Peter, Bonnie asked, “Wasn’t that something with Jose and Cobby tonight? I think Forbation and the rest of them have had just about enough from him.”

  Dezi moved to the bed to take the baby from her, swinging the now-awakened infant to his hip. “We gunna take him back to the nursery or let them?” The minions swung into attention as they realized it was time for the baby to go.

  Bonnie gave them a smile and asked, “Do you mind if we all go together?”

  Their mind auras danced happily in her brain, “Of course, Sister. We would be honored.” They scrambled from the end of the bed to accompany Dezi and Bonnie with the baby.

  As they carried the baby down the hallway toward the nursery, Dezi commented, “I can’t blame the poor guy, ya know.”

  “What poor guy?”

  “Jose.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know what you mean. I feel bad for him too.”

  “If anyone was putting it to my wife, I’d have to kill ‘em.”

  Bonnie looked askance. “It’s not like any one of us are strangers, Dezi. Cobby’s like a father to me and a brother to so many others. That makes it sticky. I’m surprised nothing like this had happened before. We’ve all been married for so long. I’m happy for Abby and Cobby. Even though it means someone gets hurt.”

  Dezi saw the damaged look coming back into her eyes. Changing the subject, he asked her, “So you’ve decided to work in the nursery with Chloe and Kenya? That’s a lot of squalling babies, isn’t it?”

  Bonnie gave him a swift punch on the arm. “Yes, silly. What else would you have us mommas doing? Chloe is close to term and Kenya is gaga over babies now. Remember when she just wanted someone to cut the baby out of her stomach?” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “That seems so long ago . . .”

  Dezi lifted Baby Peter from her arms, tucking the infant under one arm and slipping his other companionably through Bonnie’s.

  “Yes so much has happened . . . so long ago. I feel like I could write a book.”

  Bonnie turned and made a face at him. “You can leave me out of that.”

  Dezi gave her a bear hug, squeezing Peter between them. “I’m only kidding, you little dummy. Who would read it, after all?” They laughed together and happily made their way to the nursery, picking up more adoring minions along the way.

  ***`

  Jose clenched his teeth painfully as he continued to pace in his segregated bedroom on the ot
her side of the Womb. Banished again to his punishment space, he had slept badly the night before. Now he was on Forbation’s shit list again and would be unable to join the rest of the survivors for quite some time. He wondered what assignment he’d be forced to do today. Probably cleaning up shit, I’ll bet. His bitter thoughts got the better of him.

  He had thought he was making progress, especially when he tried to win favor with Netty by sucking up to Maya. The little girl had been walking around like the cat that ate the cream and resisting anyone that tried to play with her or get her to take off her fanny pack. With plenty of coaxing and one eye on Netty, he had managed to lasso the child and keep her attention long enough to recognize the odd bulge in her fanny pack. Unzipping it and nicking the small Beretta, he surreptitiously placed it in his own pocket as Netty’s brow furrowed over Maya squirming in his arms.

  Letting the child wriggle away, he took a seat at the end of the table. His eyes swept the empty chairs, calculating how to position himself so he would get a chance to talk to Abby. He just had to talk to her and make things better between them.

  “Hello, Jose.” Abby stood at the corner of the table looking down on him. She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m glad to see you back.” Before he could answer, he saw an arm snake around her waist from behind her wing and lift her off her feet.

  “Eek, you nut . . . let me down.” Abby pealed with laughter as Cobby swept her off her feet and gave her a big kiss, not seeing Jose steaming in his chair. Abby rolled her eyes, trying to signal Jose’s unexpected presence to Cobby.

  Finally spotting Abby’s soon-to-be ex-husband, Cobby set her down with a shrug and devilish grin, not missed by Jose.

  “Excuse me . . . Abby and I were talking,” said Jose, rising to his feet, his face a mask of tightness and controlled fury.

  Fully understanding the boiling pot that was Jose, Abby stepped between the men. Attempting to be casual, she commented, “I’ll have to get back to you, Jose.” Glancing around the room, she saw most of the survivors had taken seats. Raising a hand, she waved to Chloe. “Save us a seat, hon. We’ll be right there.”