Theme-Thology: Invasion

by Inc. HDWP

  The shock rippled through. This was the story of the first alien contact. Not ‘Take me to your leader’ but ‘take the ship, just stop punching me in the throat.’ This was the perspective of the people who were deciding our fate.

  “I see,” said the man who had asked the question – what the hell was his name? James?

  I could tell how much that bit of restraint had cost him. Maybe the outrage was going to play second to the survivalist training they all had. Maybe I had bet on the right side; even if I had no idea that this would be the battlefield. I could see the debate warring on those five faces: do I speak out or do I focus in getting out so I can fix this? There wasn't hint of any other option. Unfortunately, if I could read it, our keepers probably could as well.

  “Why go around the world to stage the fights? Are you local to where we came from?” I asked. I’d ask nearly anything to keep him talking.

  “If we are going to make mischief we do that in someone else’s neighborhood. Our neighborhood isn’t in Australia or the United States.” he said.

  It was starting to come together for me. He looks down on people from ‘elsewhere’ and assumes we look down on him for the same reason. The aliens had the misfortune of being from a lot further elsewhere. It was possible that every person in his little band grew up within a few blocks from each other. How else could he trust them? Have to keep him talking.

  “What’s the long term plan? You can’t run the fights forever, right? Only a limited supply of aliens?” I asked.

  I knew my question might break the thin control my team was maintaining over themselves but I hoped it would help steel their resolve instead. The more he talked about the intergalactics as expendable, the more my team should draw strength from their hate of him. I need them laser sharp in their focus. All our unnamed captor had to do to kill us was to walk away and let hunger and thirst visit with us for a few days. They figured out how to beat the last force field, I needed them to be wits-together enough to beat this one. We were probably a mile or less from civilization right now. If we could leave the cave, we could live.

  “Long term? We've been breeding them. Got six or seven babies so far. I figure that the ones born captive will be easier to manage. Not that the adults we have were that hard. I’d say they had no guts, but we've cut a few open, so I know different,” he said.

  The smirk on his face made it clear that he was pleased with his own cleverness. Breeding aliens as slaves for his private arena. If I wanted my team angry and focused, that’s what he had just accomplished for me. Now I had a choice, keep him talking in the hope that he might let us out -- or arrange food -- or encourage him to go so we could start planning our escape. The choice was taken from me when he faded out of existence. I guess that’s what we looked like when the teleport took us.

  I waited for one of us to start digging or build something out of bellybutton lint or whatever they would think to do. Other than sitting down on the sand, no one was really doing much of anything. If they were waiting for me to save the day, we might as well draw up a schedule of who gets eaten first.

  Little discussions broke out eventually as the sun began to wane. I stayed clear of it as I had nothing useful to contribute. When they had a plan, I’d be happy to help, but this was out of my league. Eventually, I went to sleep. The early dawn light woke me to find us all still trapped in the cave. As I mentally bemoaned the lack of coffee - stupid, I know - something started to bother me about our situation. I voiced my thoughts and suddenly had everyone’s attention.

  “Why did they march us off the ship and into the cave when they have teleporters? Why risk someone seeing them land? Why risk the chance that one of us might have made a successful break?” I asked, one question spilling out after the other.

  “The walls,” someone said.

  Those two words ran through the group like a shockwave. If they can’t teleport into this cave, the walls might have some special property. It was a stretch to assume that what blocked the teleport would block the force field, but that was obviously what they concluded, because they all started banging on the walls, trying to get pieces of the wall, stone dust, anything onto the floor of the cave. Out came the weapons. They were smart enough to not shoot in the confined space, but pistol butts make passable hammers when you don’t have a better choice. I grabbed a small rock and joined them at their destructive task.

  We were all pretty winded after an hour. I was actually winded well before then, since I lacked their training. As our strength flagged, we stopped beating the walls and instead started concentrating the debris along the edge of the field that blocked the entrance. When we were done, I reached out over the debris and found that the field was still there. In frustration, I hurled my rock at the field and watched it sail through. Before I could fully digest the fact that the rock made it, Ollie backed up against the far wall and ran full speed at the barrier. He sailed through unharmed. The cheer was loud and immediate. We each took a turn running to freedom

  Once outside, I couldn't help myself. I had to run my hand along the spot to confirm that the field was still there. It was. I realize that the debris wasn’t what let us through. I’d once read a book by George Hurbert, or somebody Herbert, called Dune. It featured a force field that was permeable to slow moving objects but impervious to bullets and other fast attacks. This, apparently was the reverse. I wondered if our former captors knew. That was the problem with stolen tech. Even when you get it working, you don’t necessarily know what it was doing.

  The ship was, predictably, not on the beach. We climbed onto the top of the small hill that the cave was part of, and there was a highway within view. We started walking toward the road, which took us over a small rise. Looking down from the top of the rise, we saw a strip mall. As it turned out, we could have starved to death less than a mile away from three restaurants and a coffee shop.

  I pointed out to the team that before we dealt with the extra-terrestrial matters, we had to deal with the terrestrial ones. We were in a foreign country without having entered in any conventionally legal fashion. I reminded them that ‘Oh, the spaceship controlled by the guys who bum fight aliens dropped us off, after teleporting us in’ was not going to sit well with authorities. They agreed, but I was not sure that they would miss even this chance to tell their story of abduction. I decided that I needed to make separate travel plans.

  Fortunately, being that this was Australia, the waitress spoke our language. The owner was amused by us, so our American money was good enough; he would have preferred local currency. As we ate, we tried making phone calls. My phone was working again but there would be roaming charges - big roaming charges. Some of the others could not get service, so we had to share around the phones which worked.

  I assume that our former captors checked up on us, because we were all teleported out of the parking lot as we left the restaurant. Finding myself back in that same holding room after all we did to get free was just too much to bear. This had to come to an end. I was getting fed up.

  This time, when the door opened, we found out that this wasn’t the same ship after all. Six alien guards entered the room. A seventh strode in with some sort of tablet device in his hands. This was what my team thought first contact should look like. Aliens in dress uniforms, proclamations; much more in keeping with their expectations. Until, of course, the seventh alien spoke.

  “You are being brought to our home world to be executed for the kidnapping and death of the crew of the scout ship Bok Hlaug,” he intoned.

  “But we aren't the ones who did that,” I exclaimed.

  “Doesn’t matter. Someone needs to be punished, you all look alike, and the only good alien is a dead alien,” he said as they left.

  It was the worse nightmare scenario of first contact. They are just like us.

  Yellow

  Bill Ries-Knight

  Prologue

  The grass was very green. The rocks were very hard. The snow was bitter. The ice was razor sh
arp and sliced his feet to ribbons. Onward was the need, and then rest. He made the journey without complaint because it had to be done.

  The herd was now in a very big hurry make it down the hill to the green grass. Try as he might, Yellow was unable to slow them down with commands. It was his responsibility to guide this herd safely across the mountains to the land of summer down below, and it was not looking good. A quick dash brought him in front of the old granny leading the herd, and she was finally nudged to where he desired. The herd was bred to follow and the granny was the guide. They followed her without hesitation toward the valley chosen for the coming arrival. A rise in the landscape took them up a gentle slope to a narrow opening in the rocky landscape. The granny carefully picked her way to the top and made a contented bellow which calmed the herd as they steadily filed into a meadow on the other side of the passage.

  There was a loneliness in day to day life because the only conversation you can have when herding is the one with yourself. He knew others were there, just not with him. There was no emptiness in this time alone. Yellow would stand at the ridge looking down the valley for the stirring of the birds. They would be the first clues that someone was about. He liked their freedom in the air and envisioned at times to be as they were when their shadows soared above.

  The hillside facing the midday light was filled with lush forage belly deep for the grazers. There was a brightness that glowed deep into the shadows. Nothing was hidden in shadows. For the other herd there was a near continuous scramble of small crawlers. The crawlers were hungry, and fed constantly in the meadows. Until they themselves were crunched.

  Red approached in stealthy silence knowing the herds were easy to disturb. As she topped the ridge Yellow turned to greet her. “Thanks for coming by. I was beginning to think the messenger was lost.”

  “No, the messenger was simply unable to come up here. Something about the last run did not agree.” replied his life companion. “Here is the latest from the far side.”

  A chuckle came out as Yellow remembered the joke. “We must reach out again,” he said. “The fields are filled and the balance seems right. I think we need something new.”

  Act 1

  Yellow stood at the top of the ridge waiting and waiting. He knew the arrival was to be soon, and the anticipation was tempered with the patience of a timeless existence.

  The sky was blue, clouds were scattered and it almost seemed like home as I looked out at this new planet. I set the systems in operation testing the outside. As long as the protocols were followed it was unlikely that I would encounter a tragedy soon after stepping out of the scout vessel.

  I had finally composed myself after the last planet. The world had seemed promising until the seasonal rains began. The river near my landing zone overflowed the obvious channel and found it’s way to a cavern nearby. As the cavern filled, the 8 legged inhabitants had crawled out and headed for higher ground. I had no warning of trouble aside from a rumbling in the distance that steadily grew in intensity. I looked toward the apparent source, the cavern, and saw a spreading wave of the 8 leggers seemingly zeroing in on my vessel. With only minutes to spare I dropped my gear, ran for the ship and found myself trapped inside while they chewed everything in sight to bare soil and rocks. It seemed like forever as I sat inside the hull, hearing them bounce off the metal in a seemingly endless cacophony.

  After a few weeks the rains subsided and the 8 leggers vanished. I had spent much of my time observing them consume anything in sight. I waited a few days after the knocks on the hull had ended before cautiously venturing out. As I had feared, anything that was not metal, ceramic, glass or stone was gone. All of the organic materials were gone. If it had carbon, it was nonexistent. I gathered the bits I could and packed them with my trash for use as reaction mass. Thank you, Madam Forte’, for these wonderful engines.

  The sky was bright as I reached for the door panel after first light. The ship was satisfied all was well within the norms and it would be safe to begin evaluations. I pressed the wall and the door opened with a quiet woosh.

  “Where am I?” I spoke out, talking only to myself as I looked around. There was an odd familiarity to this place. Wandering up and down the landscape within clear view of my ship I had a feeling that this was not going to be an easy evaluation. From orbit I had seen many widely scattered communities. A few ridges over there was a larger community with obvious activity. This spot was selected because it was off the obvious routes, but close to the residents of the planet, and in the midst of lush vegetation..

  I had surveyed the planet from orbit carefully, looking for the normal signs of life. The spectral analysis showed the atmosphere had only traces indicating artificial creation and manipulation of organic chemicals. There was, it seemed, a history of an industrial civilization here on this planet. A closer examination showed no major surface artifacts of industrialization. No paved roads. No artificial water works beyond the existence of small lakes or ponds that were scattered randomly.

  The need for this planet to fit a useful profile was very high. The earth was dying. After millennia of human activity, we had poisoned the well, and irreversible changes were occurring. The planet would survive, there was evidence that evolution was accelerating, and people were not going to fit in the new earth.

  My mandate was clear. Orbit a planet and evaluate the environment. From space the ship could use multi spectral imaging to evaluate the atmosphere and surface as had been done on earth for centuries. If the world below met the criteria I was to land in a promising location and begin the surface survey. It was necessary to understand how life operated, and be certain we were unlikely to be harmed by incompatible metabolic systems. The last stop was great until the 8 leggers decided to have lunch, and the planet went from yellow to red on the habitation scale while I was trapped.

  I set up an outdoor living space and started with my tasks evaluating the planet a bit more in depth. There were no signs that the weather here was extreme, so I set up a screened pavilion to take advantage of the refreshing landscape. With the last planet fresh in my mind, it was nice to relax, but I had to be ever vigilant. I took the time to step back and look at the tiny orange flowers, purple trumpet structures and lush foliage. The variety was extensive and suggested a well developed ecology. I was soon well refreshed and relaxed. I found myself feeling calmer with each passing day, and sleep finally came easy.

  * * *

  After several days of work I noticed a figure up on the ridge that appeared to be observing me. I continued with imaging the small scurrying creatures and the lush vegetation while tracking my observer. The figure on the ridge was there every day and watching it watch me became so routine that I barely noticed my observer sidling down the hillside one day. Somehow it had evaded the carefully placed proximity alarms and had drawn close enough for me to see body details. Slowly it circled the area I was using and spiraled in.

  I stood by in a relaxed posture. There was no possibility of securing myself in the ship before meeting the observer. I moved a few steps to a clear area and took more than a few deep breaths. I had to compose myself.

  “This is not an eight legger I” repeated to myself, making it into a mantra.

  I hoped that I was not seen as aggressive and that a sudden tragedy was not in my near future. I had been through this dance many times in the past on other planets and never had an altercation come my way. Others of my trade had shared tales of a less than joyous conclusion. Everything from scars to missing limbs were evident on many veteran surveyors. We had to return to earth as there to deliver our findings and would, naturally, share experiences. In a few instances the injuries had been overwhelming and the surveyor had died before the ship could liftoff. This was generally discovered after a surveyor did not return and a recovery team was dispatched.

  The circling came to an end and the observer approached me. I waited quietly as it cast a sweeping scan of all that was visible. After an extended period of standing there, w
aiting for something to happen, I gently and slowly raised my arms to my chest and folded myself into a lotus pose for meditation. I slowed my breathing, closed my eyes and relaxed with my legs crossed and hands across my body in hope that it was seen as non-threatening and I would survive.

  After a while the observer turned and left the area. I could hear the vegetation rustle as it worked back up to the ridge. I opened my eyes and watched as the vegetation showed the path of departure. Once I could no longer hear or see the vegetation being disturbed, I unfolded myself and logged a report. I took my time, detailing everything I could about my visitor.

  The visitation event was repeated at irregular intervals with other observers. They would quietly approach from the same part of the ridge, and move in close to me. Stature and color told me I had at least 6 companions, but they always arrived alone. After many cycles the first observer returned with an object. Once I had taken my customary lotus position the object was placed in front of me. It was within easy reach. I looked at the object and then up at my companion.

  Communication

  As I touched the object a sound was made. I could not place if it was from the object, my companion or even my ship. I gently put one hand on it and lifted. It was warm. Soft and firm in my grasp. I was aware of a gentle and pleasing fragrance. I gently placed it back to the ground and looked to my companion. In a slow motion I lifted my hands together, palm to palm, between us and bowed my head in a gentle nod.

  The observer remained before me and gestured again to the object. I lifted it again and felt a calm come over me. It was as though a gentle breeze with all of the flavors of spring was surrounding me. I felt a warm flush that brought back memories of a warm motherly hug. It was a calm like no other.