Parting the weeds just a little, Red saw an alien on the bank holding a metal rectangle; she spread it out like a fan full-circle until it opened into the shape of a Frisbee. A low-pitched buzz filled the air. The sound started softly, gradually building into a high-frequency pulse with the volume of a tornado-alert siren. Red felt the gun in his hand vibrate and lurch toward the Celerun, as if a powerful magnet had grabbed hold of the metal barrel. He fought to hold on.
“Whoah!” Nate cried out, his own weapon torn from his fingers. Both men watched it whisk toward the retractor plate. It gave a dull clang when it hit metal.
Red clutched his own gun with both hands. Even when the force dragged him along the ditch bed, and up the steep bank, he refused to let go. No, it wasn’t a rational thing to do, but since there was no chance of outrunning these alien thugs, at least the gun would give him the chance to die fighting.
Nate grabbed hold of Red’s ankles. “Let go, Bossman!”
The gun floated five feet in the air, with Red hanging onto it like a zip-line. When the aliens were a few feet away, he squeezed the trigger. The spray of bullets shot up at the two Celeruns patrolling the bank, but the gun stopped firing before he’d released the trigger. Out of bullets—damn. He let go of the gun and landed on the slope of the drainage ditch. The gun hit the retractor with a thud. Red found his footing as he came face-to-face with the Celerun holding the retractor plate.
“Get off of our planet!” he ordered.
Celeruns wrestled him and Nate to the ground, their resistance laughably ineffective. In less than ten seconds, his hands were bound in front of him with some kind of stretchy cord.
Nate said, “Shoulda let go.”
Chapter 17
The Celeruns forced Red and Nate to walk across the highway, through a field, over a county road, and into another field. This one was harrowed into the finest dirt he’d ever seen. Neatly plowed furrows, ready for planting, disappeared over the crest of the hill and off to the horizon. His countdown watch showed the time as 9 p.m.
The shortest alien among them was a head taller than Red. There were no nipples on their chests or any sign of belly buttons. Wide at the shoulder, narrow at the hip, the only clothing these particular Celeruns wore was utilitarian—arm bands, leg bands, and belts—used to hold impressive gadgets with blinking LEDs. He still wasn’t sure if they were male or female. Hell, maybe they were genderless. Was that even possible?
“They’re big dudes, aren’t they?” Nate commented. “And what’s with their hair?”
He pointed to a Celerun with a head full of black almonds—that’s the only way Red could describe the weird bumps. From the tip of each almond, a fuzzy white wisp of hair sprouted like a firework frozen in space. From a distance, her head reminded him very much of a dandelion gone to seed. Another one had a thick mop of yellow at the crown. Some of them had bald heads that looked like green golf balls covered with divots.
A Celerun with yellow hair spoke. Without a translator between them, the alien sounded like a squeaking hinge, with a few drawn-out tongue rolls, and clicks. He hadn’t a clue what she was saying. He twisted his wrists to free himself, but the bindings clung like spider webs.
“What do they want with us?” Nate asked.
Red realized that he had made a mistake in going toward the bunker. Traveling in the opposite direction would have confused the aliens and led them away from the rest of Hewego, but that would have meant certain death for both him and Nate. “My guess is they want us to lead them to the others.”
“I hope they made it to the...”
“Shhh!” Red chastised. “Don’t say anything we don’t want them to know. They’re probably translating everything we say.”
“They can do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“How do you know?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve tangled with the Celeruns.”
Nate’s eyes widened. He looked impressed. “Whoa.” His eyes got even bigger as he lifted his bound hands to point straight ahead. “When did that get here?”
A gleaming sphere made of metal grids and green, slightly iridescent glass, came into sight. It looked like a twelve-story high, glittering Christmas ornament. Apparently, the Celeruns were already making themselves at home.
The force of his resentment took him by surprise. How dare they violate Earth with Celerun architecture! It was as if each pore of Red’s body was crying out for retribution. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.
The aliens forced Red and Nate to sit on the ground just outside the round building.
Humans separated from their guns weren’t much of a threat to the aliens, so Red and Nate were all but ignored. He listened as the aliens held a discussion amongst themselves. The tone was urgent, but the words were indecipherable. Elizabeth would be useful to have around about now.
A weird non-Celerun creature, as big as a man, with skin as white as virgin snow, scurried over the sphere like a like a four-legged spider, busily wiping it clean with an advanced-looking squeegee. Nate’s mouth still gaped. He was looking around, eyes wide as he watched its every move. If Red hadn’t had time to absorb the idea of aliens in their midst, he’d probably be wearing the same bewildered expression.
Now that he was so close to the Celeruns, Red was able to study them in detail. They had three fingers and two opposable thumbs. The general had said they were half plant, half animal, and it certainly looked that way to him. Their fingernails looked like woody thorns. The surface of their skin looked like ribbed celery. Each of their irises were layered like a rose in bloom. In a way, they were beautiful and gruesome at the same time.
Occasionally one of the aliens would point a digit at him, making squeaking and clicking sounds at her comrades. The tone sounded agitated, and a lot of gesturing was traded back and forth, so he guessed the conversation was a heated one.
“I wonder what they’re saying,” Nate whispered in his ear. “It can’t be good.”
All at once a large number of aliens climbed aboard hovercrafts and took off toward the east. Please, let it be coincidence that they had left in the direction of the bunker.
Four stayed with Red and Nate. The others who had remained behind wandered out into the freshly tilled field. Red watched with interest as they circled around the field, studying the ground, occasionally stopping to pick up a handful of dirt, letting it rain through their fingers. His countdown clock said 1 a.m.
One of the guards got Red’s attention with a sharp kick to his thigh. She took out a palm-sized metal wafer and held it a few inches from her mouth.
There was a barely detectable lull as the device translated alien squeaks into monotone English.
“Where were you going when we apprehended you?”
A second alien held a different translator to Nate’s mouth.
Nate replied, “The North Pole.”
A Celerun flipped open a hand-held case, grunting into the device. A multi-dimensional map of the western hemisphere floated in the air above the device.
“You lack the means to journey to the North Pole,” a Celerun with divots on her head said evenly. “How do you intend to accomplish such a feat?”
Red and Nate couldn’t help but laugh at her for taking the sarcastic comment so seriously. This seemed to confuse the aliens and the conversation with them ended.
The hostages sat next to the green sphere a long while. As long as Red and Nate remained quiet, the aliens seemed mostly disinterested in them. As the buttermilk moon sank lower and disappeared below the horizon, and the stars winked at Venus, he wondered how long it would be before human eyes gazed upon such beauty again—if ever.
Right now though, the aliens were fascinating enough to hold his attention, despite the danger they presented to him and Nate. Their movements had slowed down, their bright eyes had faded several shades, and their postures began to droop. Many of them, except the ones guarding Red and Nate, went to the plowed field in groups, then foun
d a spot to dig their toes into the dirt. Tendrils covered by hairy fibers wormed out of the end of their toes, stretched, then thrust into the ground. Anchored by the toe tendrils, the alien leaned backward at a steep angle without falling. With their eyes closed, and their arms crossed over their chests, they almost looked peaceful.
“That is frickin’ weird,” Nate said.
“Maybe they get their nourishment from the ground the way plants do—from roots.”
One of the guards pointed a pulse gun at Red. “Oh, crap,” was all he could say. For a moment, the surroundings turned into dripping watercolors. A nanosecond later, his skin felt like it was on fire. He cried out in pain. Nate writhed like a worm on the ground. The sensation was over in thirty-seconds, but while it had lasted, his brain had drowned in an ocean of pain. “Son-of-a…”
“No talking,” a Celerun guard said through the wafer. “Or I will phase you again.”
Red collected his thoughts and pulled his knees up to his chest, wondering how the rest of Hewego had fared. He watched aliens still roaming the field, moving from row to row. One found a spot, spun around in place several times before rooting into the soil. It reminded him of the way Zena settled down for a nap on the rug, how she’d spin in circles before settling down. Good ole Zena. Knowing she was with Elizabeth and Michael made him feel better. She was a fierce protector.
The longer the Celeruns rooted in the field, the deeper green they became. He resented how they were feeding off the earth. They were not invited and they had no right to
dine here.
“I draw my superpower from the ground, too,” Nate quietly commented. “I’m absorbing it right now.”
Red wished he’d shut up. Idle conversation wasn’t worth risking another heat pulse.
More non-Celerun aliens began to appear on the scene. A puma-like creature with sleek black fur, yellow slit eyes and perky ears arrived, pushing a floating cart full of gleaming metal garden instruments. It walked upright and a metal collar circled its elegant neck.
“Whoa,” Nate commented. “What the hell is that dude?”
A second creature with one large eye lumbered on all fours, pulling a floating wagon full of red goo. Shaped like a rhino, it rippled with muscles, while it glared hatefully at the Celeruns. It also wore a collar around its neck. One of the Celeruns spoke at the strange pair through the translating device. The cat-like creature showed its teeth and growled in a show of defiance. A moment later, it grasped at the collar and fell to its knees in pain. Its large muscular companion bellowed mournfully in a show of concern for the puma-like alien.
“I bet they’re some kind of slaves,” Nate commented as the pair found their feet and began spreading the goo on the field with shovels. “From some other planet.”
“And I thought these Celeruns were so advanced,” Red frowned. “Slavery—it’s such a primitive concept.”
Four Celeruns returned from the field to relieve the four guards. The first one appeared to be in charge. Her hair wasn’t wispy at all. It was shaggy yellow. She used a translator to speak.
“How is it that you’ve managed to elude our sensors for so long?”
“Magic.”
The word magic sent them to their electronic tablets. They held an un-translated discussion full of squeaks and clicks, but quickly returned to address Red.
“There is no such thing as magic.”
“Says who?”
The Celerun pulled out a heat pulse gun. Red cringed. Nate held up his arms in defense just before they were blasted. The two of them screamed and writhed on the ground. In a moment it was all over, but the incredible pain would be something he could never forget.
“Why did you kill my siblings on the highway when your defeat is inevitable?” the lead Celerun continued as if there hadn’t been a pause in the conversation. “Killing without any chance of gain makes no sense.”
Devices were held up to both men’s mouths. Nate spit on the one offered to him, but Red replied with a question of his own.
“How can you condemn us for killing two of your kind when you wiped out billions of my kind? And for that matter, who are you to decide that only Celeruns are worthy of life?”
“You misunderstand our intentions. Our sole purpose is to spread our genetics throughout the cosmos,” she said. “Killing is not our objective. It is only a means to our goals of peace and prosperity.”
“Screw you and your goals,” Nate said bitterly, “bitch.”
“From our perspective,” the alien said, “the Earth is more peaceful and productive than it has ever been.”
“You talk of peace?” Red was still trying to wrap his mind around that one. “What do you call killing ninety-nine percent of the human race?”
“A good start in realizing our goals.”
Nate took a swing at the nearest alien. “I hate you!”
A heavy alien foot against his chest knocked the young man to the ground. Red heard Nate wheezing. Surely, he had sustained a broken rib, but he struggled with his bindings like a wild banshee. “This is our planet! And we’re gonna take it back. Do you hear ME?”
The aliens were unmoved.
“Your statement is absurd and your anger serves no purpose,” said their leader. “Our mother ship is landing in Iowa at this very moment, but the resettlement started weeks ago. Many of our children have already been planted. This is our home now. Humans have no place here.”
All the sinews and muscles in Red’s body tightened. Thinking about the mother ship landing, even though it was two states away, made bile rise up in his throat. He glanced over at Nate, who had stopped fighting. His skin had taken on a strange bluish pallor.
“I hate you,” Nate muttered under his breath.
“Hate has no part in what we do,” the Celerun continued. “Our purpose is to plant our seeds throughout the universe. Earth is conducive to our needs. The death of humanity is merely a secondary cause of seeking the optimal good.”
“Spin it however you want,” Red said. “From my perspective there is nothing good about what you do. You killed my children so you could raise your own. In my eyes, you’re lower than a snake’s ass.” The Celeruns fiddled with their tablets. Their translators were on and he heard them discussing the phrase snake’s ass. His little metaphor had thrown them for a loop. He rolled his eyes. “It means you’re evil.”
“Our children are our sole purpose.”
“Why can’t you reproduce on your own damn world?”
“We do, but it is not enough. Our children need fresh air, soil and sunlight to grow strong.”
“So did ours,” Red responded bitterly, voice catching in his throat. “You had no right to take it from them.”
The Celeruns were quiet a moment. A few of them even looked away as if his response had shamed them. Then again, perhaps he was misreading their expressions; it was difficult to know with aliens.
“We have visited thousands of habitable planets. Earth is one of the richest we have found and you were ruining it,” the lead alien broke the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over her group. “Fresh water falls from the skies. Nourishing soil lies on its surface. The central star is of optimal size and distance from this planet, and at the correct stage in its evolution to produce ideal temperatures. Humans do not appreciate what they have. Their industry was destroying this paradise, making even their own children sick with cancers and other diseases. This planet needed our intervention. Our offspring are beginning to flourish here beyond all expectations. This world was meant for us—not you.”
Red listened, appalled by the Celeruns’ sense of entitlement.
“You are not peaceful,” Red said. “You are warmongers.”
“Incorrect. We are not the warmongers. We cured the world of what ailed it.”
“And what ailed it?”
“Humanity. You are the warmongers. In all our travels, there has never been a species with so much potential and so few accomplishments. It took us many years to unders
tand why an intelligent and industrious species like yourselves advanced so slowly, if at all, but eventually the reason became clear.”
“Enlighten us,” Nate said. “Oh, great ones.”
Sarcasm was lost on the Celeruns, but Nate hadn’t figured it out yet.
“We attribute humanity’s lack of progress to the War Effect. Travel the entire universe and you’ll find only a handful of sentient species that kill their own kind. Even rarer is the sentient species that kill their own children. Yet, it’s common practice here.”
“It’s not so common.” Red felt the need to defend his people, even though part of him knew the aliens were right. “Most humans never take another life, especially a child’s.”
“Celeruns value every seed, every sprout, every child. Before we made the decision to send the plague, we saw human children die from lack of food while others had more than enough. If humans are unwilling to share their food with children of their own species, what hope did Celeruns have to convince them to share their land? We learned that humans destroy their own seeds without any thought. We saw armies of men hack infants apart with big knives…”
“Okay, okay, some humans are pretty bad, that is true. But most of us would die for our children. I think you refused to acknowledge this fact because it was easier to judge all of humanity based on the actions of a few bad examples. This was the reason you were looking for to justify stealing the Earth for yourselves. You Celeruns are hypocrites and murderers who kill without remorse because it’s conducive to your needs. And that makes you more like us humans than you dare admit.”
Again, the aliens exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Do not engage these prisoners,” a second, older-looking, alien said, her voice unintentionally picked up on the translator. “Some of us have seen this one’s face in the unfurling.” She pointed at Red. “He’s dangerous.”
Red the First Page 12