Aliens, Tequila & Us: The complete series

by Michael Herman

“‘What kind of craft is it? Does it move on wheels? Does it fly?’ Twizzle asks.

  “‘Must be some kind of earth borer to be underground,’ I suggest.

  “‘Does it still work?’ Forbes wants to know.

  “‘Oh, yes. It functions. We’ve seen evidence of that.’

  “‘Like space guns?’ Forbes asks.

  “‘No space guns, Forbes.’

  “‘So you think the ships that destroyed our home have something to do with it?’ my sister asks.

  “‘The entity we discovered has been there for a long time. But our explorations led us to conclude others would follow.’

  “My dad calls from the other room, ‘Maggie, come see this!’

  “‘We’ll pick up in a few minutes. Let’s see what your father has for us first.’ She walks out of the room, and we all follow close behind.

  “My dad directs her attention to the big center screen. ‘Notice anything?’ he asks.

  “She studies an aerial view of what used to be our ranch, which now is home to three massive spacecraft situated on the ground. One corner of each triangular craft is pointing toward a common center point. On screen, my dad moves a cursor to the centroid created by the three craft. GPS coordinates at the bottom of the screen change as he moves it. When he stops, the coordinates stop changing.

  “‘They’re all oriented toward the point directly above where our buried craft is,’ she guesses.

  “‘Correct.’

  “‘How did you get that feed?’ she asks about the satellite coverage of our property.

  “My uncle chirps, ‘Know the right people, and you can get anything!’ He always seems to know the right people. Money has a way of enabling that sort of thing.

  “‘They are here for us,’ she says casually.

  “‘It would seem so.’

  “I look at my sister, who looks back at me. ‘Us?!’ I say. ‘Why us?’

  “My mom gives my dad a knowing look. ‘You can’t tell?’ she asks.

  “I shake my head.

  “‘You don’t feel anything?’

  “‘What am I supposed to feel? Maybe if I knew I could tell you.’

  “My mom turns to Twizzle. ‘And you?’ Getting nothing, she turns to Forbes. ‘Anything?’

  “‘We take them down!’ he says and turns his hand into a gun with the index finger pointing at the screen. He makes shooting sounds with his mouth.

  “My mom nods. ‘Forbes has the right idea. They are not here to wish us well or be friends. They have come to harm us. You can see that, of course, but you can’t feel it?’ she asks.

  “Again, we both shake our heads.

  “‘Interesting.’ Her delivery is more observant than concerned. ‘Very interesting.’

  “My dad calls our attention back to the center screen. Openings on top of each ship have appeared. Tiny objects are flying from them in groups that spread out around the craft. The objects slowly form a dome shape over the area, enclosing the alien ships within. The objects are uniformly spaced, like the vertices of a three-dimensional computer-generated surface model. Then, starting with the lowest, they begin to emit light beams, making triangular connections, until, moving up and up, they form a vast web of interconnected points over the entire area. The final construct is a huge, orange-glowing webbed dome enclosing the alien craft inside.

  “‘The barrier is set,’ my uncle announces.

  “‘What barrier?’ I ask.

  “Forbes says, ‘Can’t get through that, can they, Uncle Ted?’

  “My uncle agrees. ‘They sure can’t, son. Interesting, wouldn’t you say, Bob?’

  “My dad is nodding agreement when Soliloquy breaks in. ‘Those things are evil incarnate!’ Her face is red, her voice angst-filled and colored with a shade of hysteria.

  “My mom wraps an arm around her, gives her a gentle hug, and says sympathetically, ‘I wanted to explain it all.’

  “‘You didn’t show them the movie we made?’ my dad wants to know.

  “‘Broke down right at the beginning.’

  “My uncle calls our attention back to the aerial view. Black objects are streaming out of one of the ships. They are scattering about the grounds, moving randomly until they all stop and begin moving to a single point near one of the craft. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ my uncle asks.

  “My dad moves his cursor over the spot and stops it there. He is nodding his head. ‘Yup. They found the tequila.’

  “‘Oh shit!’”

  Messenger’s Soliloquy Chapter 4

  “One of the monitors shows the aliens disappearing down the hole.

  “While tequila distillation, fermentation, and filtering take place above ground, all storage and aging are down in the ice caves where the temperature is more consistent. This is what my uncle and dad are referring to when they say the aliens found the tequila: The aliens are going down the entry hole to the underground storage area. The tequila the aliens will encounter is not the cheaper Blanco (which is unaged and bottled immediately after distillation) or Joven (which is flavored, unaged and bottled immediately after distillation) types of tequila. We are talking Reposado and Añejo and Extra Añejo types of tequila, which are aged in barrels. The aliens will be walking into caverns lined with racks of wooden barrels filled with one-of-a-kind rare tequila.

  “‘Flip on the remotes in the chambers,’ my mom says. A moment later, we are looking at multiple feeds from various cameras in the underground storage.

  “The monitors initially show black with no lighting in the rooms, but then the one facing the entry begins to fill with small, glowing, moving lights.

  “‘Walking glow sticks,’ my uncle observes.

  “He’s correct. The alien things have glowing bodies on top of black crab legs. They’re pouring into the room, walking along the floor, crawling up the walls and onto the cave roof. Small and spiderlike, they are everywhere, hundreds of them. Every square inch of the cave is illuminated by the light cast from their combined bodies. Once total illumination is achieved, weird little black hummingbird-like creatures fly into the space and buzz around, stopping and hovering for a moment before darting over to some other point.

  “‘Reconnaissance,’ my uncle guesses.

  “Thirty or so of them dart and stop and dart and hover. After a few minutes, they stop darting and just hover, turning to face the entry. As if responding to some command, they shoot back through the room to where they came from, disappearing back up through the entry.

  “A few moments later, a huge creature that looks like an armored praying mantis slowly crawls through the entry, ducking to avoid the ceiling. An iridescent sheen of blues and magentas colors its dark gray body. Sharp tipped spikes marching down its legs give it a deadly appearance. When it’s completely inside the cave, it halts. A thin appendage on each side of its insect-like head unfolds and starts touching, one by one, the facets that compose its two multifaceted eyes. When each facet is touched, it glows briefly then returns to its original inky black color. Each time a facet glows, the creature turns its head as if looking in a new direction.

  “‘What do you make of that?’ my dad asks.

  “‘Look at how many optical glows there are on its eyes. Just about the same number as those little flying things we saw in the cavern. I’d guess each glow is a feed of what the flying things recorded. It’s looking at a bunch of little movies fed to it by those winged reconnaissance creatures,’ surmises my uncle.

  “The creature starts forward into the cavern and then stops in front of the first batch of barrels. This is the Reposado batch, aged for nine months—short-term storage in newer, smaller barrels. Two more praying mantis creatures appear at the entry and slowly walk up to the barrels to watch. The first praying mantis thing reaches inside its body with one of its appendages. It pulls out an object that looks like a mechanical spider with a round black body. It places the spider up against a barrel end. The spider’s legs snap out to the edges of the barrel and grasp on tightly.
It lifts its body away from the barrel and then slams it against the end cap. Seconds later, a holographic display of changing symbols emanates from the back of its body to hover in the air between it and the praying mantis creatures.

  “‘Analysis,’ my uncle says. ‘Look closely and you’ll see liquid leaking down from the end of the barrel. It looks like it’s tapped into the keg and is feeding back chemical analysis of the contents to the bugs.’

  “One of the other bugs takes the barrel next to the tapped one, pulls it out, and lifts it up.

  “‘Strong,’ my dad comments, ‘those things aren’t light.’

  “Other appendages from its side unfold and slide over the surface of the barrel, moving wiggly little fingers over the curved wood. Then it stops and shakes it vigorously. It cocks its head like it’s listening.

  “‘See me, feel me, hear me, touch me,’ my uncle remarks with dry humor.

  “The creature stops the shaking and turns the barrel to its side. An appendage shoots out from its chest. It holds another spider thing. It slams the spider onto the end of the barrel. The spider’s legs pop out and grasp the edges to slam into the wooden end cap. A moment later, a small stream of liquid arcs out of the spider’s back toward the alien praying mantis. The alien twists its head, and two mandibles jut out to intercept the stream. The tequila pours into and over its mouth-tongue-mandibles.

  “‘Incredible!’ my uncle comments. ‘Tequila-drinking aliens! Who would have thought?’

  “The alien praying mantis drinks for about thirty seconds or so while the other two tilt their heads to watch. Then one of its appendages rises and touches the spider’s body. The tequila stream stops. It passes the barrel to the alien mantis next to it, which takes it and holds it aloft. The first mantis alien takes a few steps, stops, and then a massive shiver shakes its huge body. Of its eight legs, the rear four rise up in the air, and the spikes along their ridges begin to vibrate.

  “‘Give us sound,’ my mom orders.

  “My dad punches in a command. Our room is now filled with the eerie call of hundreds of crickets. Wild animal grunts and gurgles punctuate the drone of the crickets’ chorus.

  “‘Is it purring?’ my mom wonders.

  “‘And that’s not even the good stuff!’ my uncle jokes.

  “‘This is not good,’ my dad says. My uncle gives him a nod of agreement.

  “The alien mantis holding the wooden cask touches the spider’s back, and a stream of tequila pours out once more. It catches the liquid in its mouth, just like the other, only this one drinks for a full minute before passing the barrel to the third mantis alien next to it. It takes a few steps, and then a shiver runs through its body. Its back four legs rise up, and the spines begin to vibrate. The chorus of cricket noises doubles. The next alien drinks like the previous two and then finishes by tapping the spider to stop the flow. It gently lays the barrel on the floor and does as the other two did. All three stand motionless while their leg spines vibrate. It’s totally weird.

  “‘Sounds like nature,’ Twizzle says, ‘like camping on a beautiful night in Yosemite.’

  “‘Lovely,’ Soliloquy adds. ‘Like waves on an evening beach.’

  “She has touched on what I’m feeling. The cricket chorus changed to synchronized sounds as if they were singing, delivering the sounds in slow, undulating waves.

  “‘Nirvana attained,’ my uncle remarks. ‘Maybe we should feed in some Mariachi music to complete the experience.’

  My dad makes a burped laugh. My mom says nothing.

  “More alien praying mantis creatures flood into the room, touching, feeling, listening, and then drinking, going from the Reposado batch to the Añejo batches and then to the Extra Añejo batches.

  “‘Think they’ll stop at just the barrels?’ my dad asks, his voice now tight and tense.

  “‘Only if this wasn’t real life,’ my uncle muses sadly. ‘The question is: What will they do when they get to the Orchids?’

  “The Orchids are a batch of Añejo tequila that had been bottled with a small orchid at the bottom. Very pretty, and nothing like it anywhere on the market. But it hasn’t made it to store shelves yet. In fact, it has been in storage for years. My parents have it locked up behind a set of iron doors that are opened only a few times a year to check on the bottles’ well-being and add more to the collection.

  “In answer to my uncle’s query, one of the monitors shows an alien mantis inspecting the doors concealing the bottles. It pulls a spider out from a fold inside itself and slams the spider to the door. A moment later, the spider falls to the ground. Where the spider was, there is now a hole in the door. The alien mantis pulls a hummingbird thing from a different fold of its body and pushes it through the opening. Glow stick spiders race to the door, clamber up the face of it, and then disappear into the hole. The alien mantis reaches up to one of its bug eyes and touches a facet. The facet glows and the mantis remains still, apparently focused on the feed from the hummingbird thing.

  “‘Let’s hope it loses interest,’ my uncle says.

  “My uncle and dad seem to be holding their breath while the hummingbird creature sends back its information. Then the mantis comes to life. It pulls out more spiders from its body and places them along the seams where the doors meet the frame. It steps back and waits while the spiders move along the joints, melting everything beneath their black bodies. The doors fall forward, crashing to the floor. The mantis steps over them and into the room.

  “‘Orchid Reserve cam,’ my mom commands.

  “The image on the monitor changes, and we see the creature walking along the rows of bottles, tilting its head up and down. Inspecting, I guess. It stops in the middle of a rack and pulls one of the bottles out, bringing it to within inches of its two big bug eyes. It rotates the bottle and then gently shakes it. The orchid inside the bottle barely moves. The alien mantis delicately runs its snaky fingers over the glass surface, caressing it.

  “‘Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t open it,’ my uncle softly commands.

  “The alien mantis places a spider on the cork at the top.

  “‘Shit! It’s got it figured out.’

  “Sure enough, the spider uncorks the bottle. The spider drops a tube into the liquid, and then a holographic display of moving symbols appears above it.

  “‘We’re screwed,’ my uncle notes. ‘This is where things go bad.’”

  “This is where things go bad? I think to myself. Really?! I mean, our entire farm was just wiped out. A lifetime of blue agave destroyed. All the ranch buildings, including our home, smashed. Our cars and trucks turned into junkyard dust. And aliens that look like deadly, monster-size praying mantises are banging at our door, and this is suddenly bad? When was it ever good?

  “The alien watches the holograms for a moment, then, like some cat when it’s puffed itself up, everything on its body stands out. It’s definitely agitated. It rears back the hand holding the bottle and snaps it forward, sending the bottle flying into the wall to smash and shower everything with tequila, glass, and orchid parts. It un-puffs itself and begins inspecting everything about the room, checking corners, lifting bottles, moving furniture, until it turns and spots our little camera. Its head fills the lens as it brings its eyes right up to the camera.

  “Then the screen goes blank. We hear smashing sounds coming from the room.

  “‘Don’t need to see to know what’s happening inside that room right now,’ my uncle says sorrowfully. My dad shakes his head, looking distraught.

  “Their Orchid Reserve, for my thinking, is pretty small in the overall scheme of things. But who am I to question their values? Maybe there is more to the batch than I understand.

  “‘Check this guy out,’ Twizzle says, pointing to a feed from the storage area.

  “A smaller alien, nasty looking, like a cross between a scorpion and a spider with shiny black skin that looks like armor, has just appeared. Its stinger pulses and fidgets while it stares at the mass of p
raying mantis aliens that are making their cricket sounds. It advances, weaving its way through them to come to the opening where the Orchid Tequila is stored. It faces into the room for a moment, then fluffs up just like the other alien and darts through the opening. We hear a huge smashing sound, and then the praying mantis alien inside the Orchid Tequila room is flying through the opening as if it has been tossed. It smashes against the wall and crumples to the floor. Instantly, the cricket sounds cease, and all the praying mantis aliens crowd around the downed mantis, touching and prodding the lifeless body. There are lots of grunts and gurgle sounds—then silence. The aliens at the entry part themselves for the scorpion alien as he walks from the Orchid room. The scorpion alien holds a single, uncorked Orchid Tequila bottle aloft in one of its appendages.

  “‘We would have been better off if they had smashed them all,’ my uncle remarks. ‘Now they know for certain.’

  “My dad shakes his head. ‘They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t know. It doesn’t make a difference.’

  Messenger’s Soliloquy Chapter 5

  “A small display monitor in our cave still carries the aerial feed. Soliloquy glances at it and notices new above-ground movement from the aliens. After she brings it to my mom’s attention, my dad throws it up on the larger screen. We all see a stream of black figures disappearing into another hole in the ground.

  “’The bat cave,’ my dad says.

  “’Give us a picture, Bob,’ my mom commands.

  “Six camera feeds from the bat cave replace the tequila storage facility feed. My dad has thrown the feed from the entry cam onto the big screen. We watch the cavern fill with glow stick crabs and hummingbird observers. Alien praying mantises slowly move about the cave, examining everything they encounter. They have not yet reached the area where thousands of bats hang from the ceiling and walls.”

  “This cave is an important part of the farm. Bats pollinate agaves. Not the farmed agaves we have that are never allowed to reach full sexual maturity, but the wild agaves outside the rows of agaves we harvest annually to make the tequila. My parents and uncle value the wild agaves for providing them with fresh disease-and-bug-resistant babies for their operation. They want a biodiverse crop to work with. The bats are an integral part of the whole ecosystem. And the bats eat tons of bugs every night when they come out at dark. They are the natural guard dogs to our crops.