When They Saw

by Kody Boye

A spherical mark on the ground marked where we were to land.

  Once we were over the design, the ship’s tripods came out, then settled down upon the Mothership’s grounds.

  After all this time, we were finally here.

  “Please wait while I arrange for our departure into the Mothership,” Grayson said.

  I stole a quick breath as the alien began to converse with the outsiders in the Gray language, which consisted of a series of undulations and clicking sounds that resembled small monkeys in the Amazon rainforest, and tried, without success, not to feel dread in the face of what was undoubtedly the next biggest test of my young life.

  “Are you afraid?” the president asked.

  “No,” I lied. “Are you?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I weren’t intimidated,” the woman replied as she watched and listened to the proceedings that occurred before us. “Being here, on this ship—it’s unlike anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

  “It’s pretty incredible,” I said.

  And it was. There was no denying that. The size of the docking bay alone compared to a small gymnasium, so if the ship was even ten times this size—which I doubted it was, considering the awe-inspiring structure we’d witnessed out in the upper atmosphere—then it would be a titan of a machine, a monument to some of the greatest minds the universe had ever experienced.

  While waiting for Grayson to conclude its negotiations with those spacesuit-clad Grays onboard the Mothership, I took note of the metalwork that appeared unlike any material I’d ever seen on Earth. Black, with a slight chrome sheen, and glimmering in the light streaming from the string of lights arranged at the highest parts of the room, the metal—if it even were metal—was beautiful: comparable to onyx and black diamond found only in the deepest parts of the Earth. I also looked at the glass viewing panel on the opposite side of the room and wondered what, if anything, might be looking back at us. Then I saw the massive doorway and realized that it was likely the entrance to a hall that led into the deeper parts of the ship.

  “Is this going to take much longer?” the president of the United States asked.

  “No,” Grayson said. “We are preparing to disembark as you speak. Please, step away from the floor panel.”

  Everyone—myself included—stepped onto the raised section of the floor just in time for the panel to open and a set of retractable stairs to slide out of a floor compartment and onto the ground below.

  “After you,” the president said.

  Grayson took the lead, followed shortly by me, then by the president and her men, who surrounded her immediately when she stepped upon the Mothership floor. Their actions were calculated, their movements well-trained, their persistence admirable in light of our current situation. I wasn’t scared, but I knew she was. Beneath that tough outer shell, I knew she was absolutely terrified.

  “Madame president,” I said.

  “Yes, Ana Mia?” she asked, her voice low and her tone clipped.

  “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  She looked out at me from her wall of flesh and body armor and nodded.

  “This way,” Grayson said. “Our queen is expecting us.”

  We were led by the pilot through the docking bay and toward the far side of the room, toward the door which upon our approach opened into the hall I’d expected it would. Here, we turned—and, thinking nothing of it, started forward behind Grayson, following him down the mathematically-calculated hallway and then down another that we turned into a short moment later. The labyrinth was immense, the halls nondescript, marked only by the braille-like markings that I’d seen onboard the Harvester ship. Eventually I began to lose focus of where we were going and only continued to follow Grayson out of the knowledge that it knew where we were going.

  By the time we reached the room I imagined the queen to be in, I was absolutely exhausted.

  “I apologize for the long excursion,” the alien said.

  “Is this it then?” the president asked. “Is this where she is?”

  “Our queen?” Grayson asked. It nodded. “Yes. Our queen is inside.”

  “Then let us go. We’re wasting time.”

  “A word of caution, before we enter.” Grayson paused while waiting for the president to stop fidgeting beneath her wall of manpower and nodded when finally she did. “Our queen has grown tired of the current events that are transpiring upon the planet you call Earth. She simply wishes for conflict to end, but will exercise force if necessary. Your weapons—” Grayson nodded to the soldiers “—will be watched, and our own detachment of guards will be surrounding the queen in anticipation of any violence that may occur. Do not attempt to shoot. You will not admire the results.”

  “Understood,” the president said. “Lower your arms, men.”

  The men did as asked.

  “Now,” the woman who led the United States said. “Let us enter.”

  Grayson turned, raised a hand, and then pressed a palm to the massive metal door.

  It began to rise, then, and as it did, I held my breath—not out of fear, for I was not truly afraid of what was to come next, but out of anticipation of what I would see.

  Would I see Coyotes? Serpents? Aliens in warmachines or suits that could render us obsolete in mere moments? Or would I see nothing but aliens wielding standard science-fiction weaponry that I had come to expect from my youth?

  Without the ability to know, I waited for the door to rise.

  When finally it did, we stepped into the room, led by Grayson and flanked by the men surrounding the president of the United States.

  The queen—seated atop her grand throne—was the color of white bone, and completely unlike the Grays whom served under her command. Small in stature but enormous in purpose, she lifted her massive, almond-shaped head that was crossed with fine veins and surveyed the party before her with an authority I could feel rather than sense. Instantly her conscience was upon mine—touching, inspecting, prodding for any source of information she could find. I knew she could break me, so I left my mind open to her.

  The soldiers, however, did not.

  Some began to groan and lifted their hands to their heads. Others screamed as what I knew felt like an invading organism slithered through their brains. The president herself remained rigid, but her eyes were wide, her lips trembling, her hands shaking as she was inspected just the same.

  By the time it was over, I felt invaded—violated in every sense of the word.

  The president’s men raised their weapons.

  Grays in black suits of sleek chrome armor appeared, carrying white rifles with green and red light running along their edges.

  “Do not attempt to open fire,” the queen said in a low, gravelly voice. “The Grays would slaughter you.”

  The men lowered their arms almost instantly—as if compelled, by a higher force than they, to do as she asked.

  The queen nodded and turned her eyes to regard me only briefly before centering her gaze on president Suzanne Gale. “President Suzanne Gale,” the supreme being said. “President of the United States. You have come because you have agreed to speak regarding our assimilation onto the planet Earth.”

  “That is correct,” the president said.

  “Step away from your humans so I can see you more clearly.”

  The president did as asked regardless of the protests that came from her men. Now in the shadow of the queen, she visibly trembled, vulnerable and naked as she could possibly be without her men to guard her. The queen, in response to this declaration, nodded and stood—then, on seemingly-aging limbs, made her way down the short flight of stairs to view the president. The height difference was enormous—at least two feet—but the sheer willpower in the queen’s eyes was far more than that in the president’s, who appeared like a bug standing before Mount Olympus and regarding the Titans upon it. The queen looked at the president—seemed to anticipate her every movement and breath—and nodded after several moments of consideration before saying,
“You are strong. A formidable leader.”

  “I have fallen from grace,” president Suzanne Gale replied.

  “As have I,” the queen said. “Which is why we need to put this conflict behind us and move forward as allies.”

  The president remained silent. She continued to stare at the queen and the queen at her, two powerful women who in the height of their power were desperate for something to be done. Each could destroy the world—the president with her refusal, the queen with her words—and though I tried not to tremble, I couldn’t help it in light of everything that was going on.

  The president was the final threshold to the end of this invasion. If she refused—if, for some reason, she decided that it was not in the United States’ best interests to allow the invaders to land on their soil—then everyone, including me, could say goodbye to peace and wonder.

  I closed my eyes.

  I expelled a breath.

  I tried not to tighten my fists but to no avail.

  When finally I opened my eyes, I looked to the president and saw that she was nodding—a pure, resounding action which spoke wonders of her mental state. “Let us join,” the president said, “and make the world a better place.”

  The president reached forward.

  The queen did the same.

  When their hands touched—when, after seven years, a truce was finally made—I could’ve died from relief.

  It was over.

  It was finally over.

  We could, after all this time, begin to move on.

  Chapter 10

  Grayson was instructed to return me to where I’d initially been harvested just outside of Burgundy Hospital shortly before the delegations were to begin. With no purpose to serve and no need to be on the ship any longer, we bade our goodbyes before making our way out of the throne room, down the labyrinthine halls, then into the docking bay. There, we boarded the Harvester ship we’d arrived in and began our preparations for our descent back to the planet Earth.

  By the time we disengaged from the Mothership some time later, I was both scared and relieved.

  Unable to control the flood of emotions that followed, I excused myself to my room as we began to plummet through the atmosphere and settled down on the bed I had come to call my own over the past week. Though the adrenaline had since worn off, its affects were still coursing through my veins, spurring me to conjure a multitude of scenarios and the outcomes that could come as a result of Them. I first thought of civil war amongst the United States, then World Wars from the other countries. Then I thought of lesser but still important conflicts that could occur around Austin, Texas and realized that I was virtually powerless to stop any of it.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized how drastically my life was about to change. Before meeting the president, I had served a purpose—a grandiose position within the hierarchy that would soon become the new world order. Now that I was done with Them, I would have to prepare for what would undoubtedly be life after the apocalypse.

  I’d spent so many years believing myself to be a victim with little sway over the world—an individual whom, though able to alter what was immediately around me, could do little in the grand scheme of things. Now that I’d been proven wrong, it seemed impossible to believe that I would be going back to when life was simple—when, upon waking up, I would rise with the knowledge that the day would be new and that anything that happened within it would affect only me and the people I interacted with.

  Which led me to wonder: what would happen next?

  Grayson had once said that the Coyotes would be withdrawn from the Earth once the process of assimilation began—that They would be taken aboard the Mothership to be exorcised from the world once and for all. But what would happen to Them, those phantoms who had haunted our world for so long? Would They be executed, one by one, now that Their use had expired, or would They live Their lives above the planet in a place we could not reach? And what about the other horrors that stalked the world, like the Serpents? Or the Reapers? What would be done about Them?

  My thoughts were too jumbled, their purpose serving only to upset me. For that reason, I pushed them away and closed my eyes as we stopped descending through the atmosphere and began to coast through the sky.

  Grayson had said that we wouldn’t be returning to Texas too quickly—that I would have time to rest and contemplate all that had transpired within the past few days. The idea of even facing Asha—or, even worse, Commander Dubois—was enough to make my head spin, especially considering the fact that I was still dealing with the aftereffects of the chloroform.

  Sighing, I spread out along the mattress and trained my eyes on the curve of the wall—on the window that displayed a miraculous sunset which bled orange and pinks across the distant horizon—then closed my eyes.

  Though I held the knowledge that I had, in theory, helped save the world, only time would tell if my actions would make progress for man—and Gray—kind.

  With that in mind, I decided to try and sleep, for there was little I could do now that I was bound to the ship.

  I dreamed of wars. Chaos. Fires across the horizon. But they were not caused by the Grays.

  No.

  They were caused by humanity.

  Believing the president’s judgment to be false and her decision outrageous, the men and women of the United States of America took arms against the alien invaders in an effort to reclaim what they believed was rightfully theirs. In humanitarian aid camps across the country bombs were planted and guns were raised, bullets fired and explosives detonated. Grays, both adult and children alike, died at the hands of merciless insurgents.

  Then They rose to fight back.

  I awoke from this dream the following morning with the knowledge that this was a future possible and tried not to let my imagination run rampant through the wilds of my brain. Rising, slowly, as to ensure that my head would not spin, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way to the nearby window to find that we had arrived in what I instinctively knew was West Texas. Though unable to determine our location from my vantage point within the sky, I watched the arid deserts and urban wastelands pass by with the realization that we would soon by back in Austin.

  “Home,” I mumbled—longing, at that moment, for a sense of normalcy I knew I was not likely to find.

  I heard the precursory beep that signaled my door was about to open and turned just in time to see Grayson enter the room.

  “Grayson,” I said.

  “Ana Mia,” it replied. “I came to inform you that we will be arriving in your city of Austin, Texas within what you would determine to be the coming hour.”

  “Is that all you came for?” I asked.

  The alien paused. “No,” it said, then let loose what sounded like a sigh. “I also wanted to give my thanks to you for bringing the two races together. It means much to not only me, but my crew.”

  “You’ve been here a long time,” I said. “It’ll be nice to have some peace and quiet now that everything’s about to settle down.”

  “I do not believe that there will be peace for quite some time,” Grayson replied. “You humans are an optimistic species, however, and we will do our best to follow your example.”

  I didn’t want to tell Grayson about the dream. I really didn’t. But at the same time, I felt the alien deserved at least that much—to know that my words were not completely misguided and that my thoughts were just as troubled as its own likely were.

  “Grayson,” I said, preparing myself for what would undoubtedly be an awkward conversation. “I had a dream.”

  “About?”

  “What might come next.”

  The alien waited, studying me with its big black eyes.

  With a sigh, I continued by saying, “There was war. Conflict. Men and women and even children being gunned down in aid camps by extremists.”

  “You are aware that dreams are simply the firing of brain cells.”

  “I know, but—”

>   “I expect there to be conflict, Ana Mia. It is undeniable—and, sadly, unavoidable.”

  “What will you do if it happens?” I asked. “I mean... if people do decide to fight back?”

  “We will defend ourselves while at the same time remaining as peaceful as we can possibly be. We are not a violent species. We were simply driven to it out of a necessity for survival.”

  “Then why kidnap people? Abduct them. Kuh... kill them?”

  “Because we needed information, and because we knew that the people we abducted would never be the same.” Grayson stepped forward. When I retreated a step back, the alien’s lips turned down in a semblance of a frown. “Do not hate us, Ana Mia, for the things we have done. Your people—they did not suffer.”

  “I’m not even sure why you’re trying to explain it to me.” I laughed. “I don’t even know why I’m asking. It’s not like the answers will make me feel better anyway.”

  “Our social scientists believed that in order to interact with humanity, we needed to study them. To study them, we needed test subjects. With test subjects, there’s always an experimentation period. And after the experimentation period, there must be a consensus on what to do with the subject.”

  “Did you at least find what you were looking for?”

  “Yes and no.”

  I waited for the alien to elaborate.

  “Yes, we discovered that humanity is complex and diverse; and no, we did not determine how to properly communicate with them.”

  “So all your studies will have been for nothing?”

  “Not nothing. Once we properly assimilate onto the planet’s surface, we will be able to cure the majority of your so-called ‘incurable’ diseases, as well as restore the natural order to the planet. We will make up for the wrongs we have committed. You just need to give us a chance.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kick and punch and bite and draw blood and do anything else to cause the alien physical harm, but I knew I couldn’t do it.

  With that in mind, I simply nodded.

  “We will be arriving in Austin, Texas soon,” the alien reminded me. “Prepare for your descent. This may be the last time you are ever onboard a Harvester ship.”