Clones vs. Aliens

by M. E. Castle

  The Gemini cocked their heads slightly at Veronica’s speech.

  “Advanced vocabulary,” Anna muttered, shaking her head a little. “We’re having difficulty interpreting that statement.”

  “Try interpreting this,” Amanda said, and in three large steps had reached the jock-looking Gemini. She put a foot into the side of his knee and he collapsed to the floor. Amanda stood over him and locked his left arm behind his back with one hand, her other hand pulling his head back by the hair.

  “Now,” Veronica said. “Go back to your little bus.”

  “Very well,” one of the Gemini on the couch spoke up. But before she’d finished saying “well,” an explosion shook the windows. Fisher, Alex, Veronica, and Amanda turned to see a fireball pluming up from Mrs. Bas’s garden. The Gemini stood up, as one unit, and left, the disguised ones gradually shifting back into their original girl forms as they walked.

  Alex rushed to the window.

  “Nobody’s hurt,” he said. “Looks like one of the Gemini was exploring the garden—”

  “Eating the garden, you mean?” Fisher interjected, gesturing to the giant cornstalk, which had been chewed to bits and flattened by a giant blast.

  Alex nodded.

  “Poor Fee,” Fisher sighed. Charred vegetable matter now mixed with Gemini glop in the smoking brown grass. He turned away from the window, frowning. Something wasn’t right. Or rather, something was even less right than the fact that a bunch of aliens had just thrown a party in his house and nearly incinerated his mom’s garden.

  There was no way the Gemini in the garden had overheard Veronica and Amanda demanding that the Gemini leave. All the windows had been closed. And yet the explosion had come only moments after Amanda had declared the party over. It was almost as if…

  “By the protractor of Pythagoras,” Fisher said. “I know what the Gemini are.”

  Amanda narrowed his eyes at him. “You mean other than a bunch of vicious, porcelain-eating predators?”

  Fisher ignored her. Other students were still clustered in the living room. It wasn’t yet safe to talk. Now that the Gemini were gone, however, it didn’t take long to shepherd the other kids out of the house. One by one, Amanda ushered the students to the door, smiling menacingly and cracking her knuckles whenever she encountered any resistance.

  “Phew. That’s the last of them,” Fisher said, closing the front door and sagging against it.

  “Not quite,” Alex said. He pointed down the hallway to the kitchen, where three kids were still sitting at the dining table, staring into space. Oops. Fisher had forgotten about the memory serum. He searched around for the counteragent, hoping he’d made enough for all of them. It wasn’t in the drawer he thought he’d put it in, and he was about to give up and hope the stuff wore off when Paul sidled up to him, holding a small plastic case in an outstretched tentacle.

  “Oh … thank you, Paul,” Fisher said, petting the little octopus. “I … don’t know how you knew I needed this, but it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened today by a long stretch.”

  Fisher tossed a pellet with the counteragent to his memory serum at the feet of the three kids. As they shook themselves out of their stupor, Fisher, Alex, and Veronica led them out of their chairs and out the door.

  Once the party had officially disbanded, Fisher gestured Alex, Veronica, and Amanda over to the ant farm, where hundreds of ants were busily tending to their ant business, seamlessly organized into different task forces, controlled by unified instinct.

  “Strictly speaking,” Fisher said excitedly, “the Gemini aren’t a they at all. The Gemini are a single being. It can divide itself into many physical pieces but they share the same consciousness. One mind.”

  “Of course,” Alex said, snapping his fingers. “No wonder they act together so well. Each of its human shapes is just an extension of one will. When one of them blows up it doesn’t really matter to the creature as a whole.”

  “So that’s why the Gemini in the garden blew up …” Veronica said. “She didn’t hear the conversation. She just … knew about it.”

  Amanda shivered. “Creepy.”

  “Another thing,” Fisher said. “They keep blowing up but their numbers stay the same. They can regrow their shapes.”

  “But not right away,” said Veronica slowly. “After one explodes, the Gemini must have to regain energy to make new ones. Maybe that’s why they eat so much. What happens when they start making new drones faster than they explode?”

  “That means there’s no telling how fast this thing could grow,” said Amanda as they moved through the living room, plumping couch cushions, cleaning up spilled drinks, and searching for any stray ants. “For all we know it could keep growing and eating until Gemini drones outnumber humans. With enough time they could turn the whole planet into a desert.”

  All four of them were silent for nearly a minute as they imagined Earth as a dried-up husk covered in Gemini drones.

  Alex shook his head. “We won’t let that happen,” he said determinedly.

  “What are we going to do to prevent it?” Veronica said.

  “First,” Fisher pointed out, “we can start by cleaning up. We won’t be doing much of anything if we get grounded for wrecking the house.”

  After another hour of picking up, tossing, scrubbing, and vacuuming, the house was spotless. And just in time. The whispery hum and sweet smell of the car’s corn syrup-powered engine announced Mr. and Mrs. Bas’s return.

  “Oh boy,” said Alex. “Okay, let’s go try and explain the crater that used to be Mom’s garden.” He nodded at Fisher. “Will you two wait in Fisher’s room so we can make a plan for dealing with the Gems?”

  “All right,” Amanda said. She and Veronica went upstairs, followed by FP, as the Bas boys walked out to the front yard.

  There was still a thin smoke trail curling up from the garden. In addition to Fee, the garden had previously boasted a collection of string beans the size of small trees. Two of them were in tiny fragments and the other four had been felled, with charred spots mottling the green.

  Mrs. Bas’s face turned white as soon as she stepped out of the car. “How?” was all she said.

  “The Gemini threw a party without asking us,” said Fisher, deciding honesty might be best.

  Mr. Bas clasped his hands behind his back, solemnly surveying the wreckage.

  “The house was in danger,” said Alex. “We tried to keep things under control but it was too much to handle. We had to kick them out. They didn’t like that. And so …” He gestured weakly at the garden.

  Mrs. Bas looked at the garden, then back at the boys.

  “Well …” she said in a thin voice, “I guess it’s just lucky that nobody got hurt.”

  “And I guess dinner’s already cooked,” said Mr. Bas, pointing to the charred plant life. “But I’m afraid we won’t be at the table. We’ve got a lot of work to do tonight. We’ve made an important discovery about Gemini neurobiology. They’re—”

  “A hive mind,” Alex said before Mr. Bas could finish. “We figured that out, too, from their behavior. And they’re starting to take on new forms. They could be trying to blend in with us.”

  “We think … maybe they came to Earth to do more than just study us,” Fisher said slowly, though he hated to even think the words, much less say them out loud. We think maybe they came here to …” He swallowed. “Eat.”

  The parents looked at each other grimly.

  “They’re a potential threat to us, no question,” Mr. Bas said. “We’ll have to deal with that threat cautiously. And we need to do more research before we decide what has to be done.”

  “In the meanwhile, try to be nice to them,” Mrs. Bas said. “The less they think we know, the better position we’re in. And remember, you two: bringing them here was our idea, and our responsibility. We tracked them, we built the M3.” She put her arm through her husband’s, and took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s up to us to fix this.”

&
nbsp; They took a step toward the front door when Mrs. Bas’s pocket buzzed. She held up her phone.

  “Blocked number,” she said, putting it to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is …” A stony paleness spread across her face. “Yes, sir. Understood. We’ll be there.” She hung up. “That was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon. They need us to attend a meeting at once.”

  “Where?” Alex said. “About the Gemini?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me over the phone,” she said. “But several other leading scientists, the secretaries of defense and state, and the president are going to be there. He said that a car would be …” Before she could finish the thought, the low growl of a powerful engine was heard outside the front yard’s wall. “That’s our ride.”

  “Keep your eyes on the Gemini,” Mr. Bas said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” The look in his eyes made it clear that, as much as he was trying to hide it, he didn’t really have any idea when that might be. Fisher’s parents disappeared through the front gate.

  “Well,” Alex said, “that’s a little strange. Maybe they’ll figure out exactly what they need to do.”

  “Maybe,” Fisher said darkly, “but I’d rather not wait to find out. We need to have a meeting of our own, or it’s going to get a lot worse.”

  Upstairs, Veronica and Amanda were perched on Fisher’s windowsill. Fisher closed the door behind him as Alex sank into Fisher’s bed.

  “Do you have anything to say to us?” Amanda said, crossing her arms.

  Fisher looked at Alex. Alex nodded. “We’re sorry,” Fisher said, picking up FP and looking at his still-tender ear. He gave the pig a scratch under the chin. “We wanted to believe that aliens were enlightened. That they were friendly.”

  G = growth rate for Gemini Girls

  let:

  x = probability of exploding spontaneously

  F = pounds of “food*” eaten in kg (includes plastic, paper products, porcelain)

  t = time in hours

  m = theoretical Gemini metabolic rate in kJ/hour

  *study eating habits of goats, ants???

  “That they had answers,” Alex added.

  “What you wanted,” Veronica said, with a softer tone than Fisher had expected, “was for aliens to be just like humans, but kinder.”

  “So how do we get rid of them?” Amanda said, cutting straight to the part of the conversation Fisher had been afraid to reach. “Can we make them so angry they all blow up at once? If none of the drones can eat, maybe they can’t gather up enough energy to regenerate.”

  “That’d be dangerous,” said Alex. “The force of the blast might be exponential. Thousands of people could die.”

  “Maybe we can convince them there are greener pastures elsewhere,” said Fisher. “If they realize Earth is going to be more trouble than it’s worth, they might move on.”

  “If I may, kids?” said CURTIS as Fisher’s computer screen popped into life. Ever since Fisher had rescued the artificial intelligence from TechX, he’d proven quite capable, and at times indispensable. “That could be a tough proposition. I’ve been lookin’ at the MORONS research, and it looks like the Gemini ship took a big hit when it crashed. Definitely fixable, but it’s not at the park anymore.”

  “Maybe your parents could help us find it,” Amanda said.

  “Our parents just got whisked away by a mystery car to a secret meeting with the president,” Alex said. “I tried calling them both a minute ago just to see if it would work. Signal’s blocked.”

  “Figured that,” Fisher said. “I got NASA’s number after the Gemini landed. Maybe we can try them.” He dialed the number and put his phone on speaker.

  “Welcome to NASA,” an automated voice said. “If you are calling to inquire about satellite launch services, press one. If you wish to contribute to the next robotic mission to Mars, press two. If you are a robot on Mars, press three. If you have other business, press four. If you are attempting to reach the Nautical Armwrestling Society of Alaska, please hang up and try again.”

  Fisher shrugged and pressed four.

  “Thank you,” the voice picked back up after a moment. “If your business is related to current space missions, press one. If it is related to NASA publicity or tourism, press two. If you are an astronaut from the future who has risked everything in a last-ditch attempt to avert global disaster, please stay on the line for appropriate dramatic music.”

  Fisher jabbed the end call button as an orchestra swelled into an adventurous theme.

  “By the time that becomes helpful we’d have been up to our hair in Gemini drones,” Veronica sighed.

  “Now what?” said Amanda.

  “I just called Agent Mason while that was going on,” Alex said. “But the call didn’t connect.”

  “Where could he be?” Fisher said. “And how else are we going to find the ship?”

  “Ahem!” CURTIS said. “I think I may be of assistance. During that call I took the liberty of using your phone connection to hack into NASA’s mainframe. I got the ship’s location. They took it to a secret NASA facility. It’s only a couple of miles from here.”

  Fisher, Alex, Amanda and Veronica exchanged a look as the implication of CURTIS’s statement sunk in. Slowly, Amanda smiled and hopped off the windowsill.

  “A couple of miles is walkable,” she said. “So what are we waiting for?”

  NO TRESPASSING. VIOLATORS WILL BE MADE TO SORT 10,000 MOON ROCKS BY WEIGHT.

  —SIGN SPOTTED ON M.O.R.O.N.S. FENCE

  Exactly fifty-seven minutes later, Fisher, Alex, Amanda, and Veronica were staring out over the top of a low ridge. On the other side of the ridge was a flat expanse of long brown and tan grasses, lit up weakly with the last red rays of the setting sun. A chain-link fence made a giant square around a collection of dilapidated barns and grain silos. As darkness fell, Fisher popped open a pair of night vision binoculars that collapsed to the size of a postage stamp, and aimed them at a sign posted on the fence.

  “‘US Department of Agriculture Crop Testing Area,’” he read. “Nice. That’s why there aren’t a lot of guards around the perimeter. It would spoil the illusion.”

  “Here comes a patrol,” said Amanda, pointing. “It looks like there are just two of them.”

  A pair of tan-clad guards rounded the far corner of the fence, passed only a dozen feet from them, and turned their backs at the near corner. The kids waited for more guards to pass as a cold wind whipped up the dust at their feet. An owl hooted somewhere in the trees, followed by a second. The chilly breeze kept up, and Fisher rubbed his hands together.

  “Looks like it’s just the one patrol,” Veronica said, shivering.

  “Okay then, let’s move it,” said Amanda. They crested the ridge and ran as quietly as they could down to the edge of the fence. Fisher removed a vial from his backpack as Alex and Amanda pulled on Fisher’s strength sleeves—Alex had kept even more of them tucked away in his room. The dodgeball experience had given them a better idea how to use them. Fisher put a drop of his patented Screw Liquefier, which handily liquefied anything made of steel, at several key points in the fence. The fence began to drip like melting cheddar. Alex and Amanda pulled in opposite directions, opening a hole through which they all slipped.

  When Alex and Amanda set the fence back in place, Fisher immediately reapplied the rapidly solidifying metal, and the fence was back to normal.

  “Okay,” Fisher said, looking over what appeared from the outside to be decrepit farm buildings, including several grain silos and an old barn. “So where’s the ship?”

  “I overheard Willard bragging about his dad and this place to Brody,” Amanda said. “I think the key point in this facility is the biggest silo.” She pointed to a massive, round silo in the middle of the compound. “Let’s take a look.”

  Ducking low, they ran toward the building’s dark silhouette, scanning the landscape as they went. So far, they hadn’t seen a single person other than the two guards.
/>   Fisher was baffled. If there really were an extraterrestrial spacecraft concealed here, the place should be swarming with scientists and researchers. But the place was almost totally silent except for the occasional calls of the owls and the whispering wind. Could CURTIS have been wrong? Could this really be a place for agricultural crop testing after all?

  “Down!” whispered Amanda harshly, pointing to the two guards in the distance.

  They dropped as a group to the grass and Fisher took a thin, dark sheet from his pack, covering them with it. The sheet had a complex sensor system that quickly analyzed the colors and textures of the material around it. The sheet’s material itself could then change its appearance accordingly. After a moment it turned a mottled green and black, and filmy blades of green sprang up from the tarp in imitation.

  Fisher could only hear his own breathing for a few seconds, and then footsteps, growing louder. They had good camouflage, but it wouldn’t do much good if they got stepped on.

  The steps got closer. Twenty feet, ten, five. A boot came down two inches from Fisher’s right ear, and he tensed every muscle in his body to keep from springing up and running.

  The guards passed. Fisher waited another minute before throwing off the tarp and gesturing to his friends to move on.

  The grain silo’s wall was solid steel all the way around. No doors, no buttons—no way to enter at all.

  “What now?” said Alex.

  “Brody didn’t believe Willard,” Amanda said. “Willard demonstrated the password to back up his case. Let’s see if he was telling the truth.” She sighed, cleared her throat, and started whistling. The melody was weirdly familiar. Still, it took Fisher a minute to identify the melody.

  “Is that … is that the tune to ‘Gift-Wrapped Heart’?” Fisher said, flabbergasted.

  “Yep, that’s it,” Veronica muttered. Even in the dark, it was obvious that she was blushing.

  Pop sensation Kevin Keels had written “Gift-Wrapped Heart” back before he had been revealed as a tone-deaf lipsyncher, but maybe NASA was a little behind the times. The song had saved them once before, when it turned out Keels’s real singing voice could literally kill robots.