Alien Manifesto

by T. W. Embry

  With all of the blaster rifles exhausted, the Queen still standing, and one team member down and likely dead Snarth signaled for the Irishman and Rowl. We only had to hold on for a few more minutes and help would arrive and enable the team to retrieve its wounded and retreat to the ship and regroup.

  The Queen was standing, screaming in rage, writhing in agony and blocking the way to the feline master’s rescue. Snarth knew that I would not leave without my mate and that I would fight the Queen to the death rather than retreat. Snarth watched, his own hand blaster drawn looking for a shot as I circled the Queen looking for an opening, going in for the kill, hand blaster in one hand, feline blade in the other.

  “The othersss will be here sssoon,” he hissed at me: I did not even acknowledge Snarth so intent was I in my desire to kill the Queen and rescue my mate. I fired my hand blaster at one of the Queen’s many appendages and watched with a wicked grin as it disintegrated causing the Queen to scream even louder.

  Seeing my success, Snarth fired a volley from his hand blaster in rapid succession. He was not as successful, the Queen’s exoskeleton deflecting his entire volley. It only brought him to the Queen’s attention once more, nearly trapping him against the wall again.

  All had forgotten about SSlice and his perch on the ceiling. SSlice watched as his friends engaged the Queen, trembling at the explosion of violence beneath him. A sudden realization hit SSlice like a blaster bolt. He was the spinner, chosen by fate, to exact vengeance on the Queen for all the atrocities the Ones had committed against his people. And that time was here and now.

  Gathering his fragile courage, SSlice positioned himself directly above the Queen as she stood writhing in agony from the team’s blaster hits. SSlice let go of his grip on the ceiling and dropped onto the Queen, landing on her back just behind her head and out of the reach of her many arms.

  “This is for the elders,” screamed SSlice at the top of his lungs as he sank his fangs into the Queen’s neck between her exoskeleton plates and injected all his venom into her soft underbody, knowing it might kill him in doing so. SSlice did not think about his own death. His last conscious thoughts were of vengeance served and a life debt paid. The Queen froze almost immediately then tumbled to the ground, dead, throwing SSlice clear and onto his back.

  PART EIGHTEEN

  To the Rescue!

  “Rowl, mount up, the others are in trouble!” yelled the Irishman after receiving Snarth’s urgent message. Within seconds, the pair was on their cycles and headed at top speed toward Snarth’s homing signal. It took less than a minute for the pair to locate the landing site of their embattled teammates.

  With a ferocious growl, Rowl tore over the open ground and through the doorway leading to the Queen’s chamber, his blaster rifle at the ready, followed closely by the Irishman who was covering the rear. They both skidded to a stop as they saw the Queen fall. Unknown to them the fight was over. It was not without its casualties for the feline master was down and SSlice was on his back writhing in agony.

  Seeing the pair’s arrival Snarth hissed, “Irissshman get back to the ssship on the double and ready the medical bay, we have wounded. Rowl help me with ssSSlice.”

  I had already reached the feline master. As I reached to check her pulse, my heart in my throat, her eyes fluttered open. “She’s alive!” I shouted to the others.

  As I gathered her up in my arms, she let out a scream of pain. “Be careful, my leg is broken,” she hissed through the pain, “and maybe a rib or two.” I gently lifted her up and headed as fast as I dared toward my cycle.

  Snarth and Rowl were bent over SSlice who had stopped writhing in pain and was now limp. Not Good, I told myself as I hurried by. “You will be fine, my love,” I assured my mate. “We are almost to the cycle and the Irishman has the medical bay open and ready. Just a couple more minutes and we can give you something for the pain,” I said as I mounted my cycle, causing another scream of pain, cursing my clumsiness.

  As I carried my mate into the medical bay after the longest short ride I have ever been on, I watched anxiously as the surgical mech team swarmed over her. Turning its attention to me after completing its scans the head surgical mech said in its metallic version of galactic standard, “This patient has one broken leg, two broken ribs; some internal bleeding and a severe burn over twenty percent of her body the like of which I have never seen before. How did she get it?”

  “Never mind that,” I said sharply. “Will she survive?” I asked, my heart in my throat and my pulse pounding in my head.

  “She will require approximately thirty long time units in the bacta tank after I set her leg and ribs. I predict a ninety-nine percent chance of a full recovery without any loss of ability. How did she get the burn?” the lead surgical mech repeated.

  “She got it from the Queen, that is all I know,” I answered, frustrated by my lack of an answer, but relieved that my mate would recover fully.

  “It appears to be a type of severe cellular disintegration. If she had been exposed to it much longer she would not have survived,” said the lead surgical mech. “Now if you will excuse me I must set the patient’s leg and prep her for the bacta tank.”

  “Tom, what isss the feline master’sss condition?” hissed Snarth through the communicator, demanding an answer.

  “She will recover, according to the surgical mech,” I answered.

  “Excellent, you can believe what it sssaysss, it isss the bessst money can buy in the entire galaxy. Now if you would be ssso kind azsss to help Rowl and me get ssSSlice to the sssurgical bay,” hissed Snarth.

  SSLICE! I had forgotten he was injured. I cursed myself for my memory lapse as I hurried to the cargo ramp to help Snarth, Rowl and the Irishman get SSlice into the surgical bay. It proved a daunting task. Even with four of us it was awkward, I mean just how do you get an eight-foot long, eight-legged, three hundred pound spider in a normal sized door when he is being carried by four large beings, without causing more injury? We finally managed it, none too delicately, unfortunately for SSlice.

  By the time we got SSlice to the surgical bay, the feline master was already in the bacta tank, her leg and ribs set, allowing the surgical mechs’ complete attention to be focused on SSlice. After a quick scan, the lead surgical mech turned to Snarth and bleeped in its metallic galactic standard, “This spinner has bitten something?”

  “Yesss,” Snarth answered.

  “I can locate no injuries except some bruising from transporting him to the surgical bay,” bleeped the mech.

  “He will recover fully; his body is regenerating its venom. I have given him the proper medications to aid in his recovery. All he needs is sleep,” bleeped the surgical mech. “Now if you will excuse me I have patients to attend to. I will notify you when their condition changes,” bleeped the mech, dismissing Snarth in his own ship.

  “I will have to ssspeak to ssSSlice about that mech’sss persssonality program,” hissed Snarth as he, I, Rowl and the Irishman headed to the forward lounge to wait for news about the wounded team members’ recovery.

  “I guess now we wait,” said Rowl as he lounged on a dining couch.

  “For now yesss,” hissed Snarth, “I want to find out what the Queen wasss guarding. Azsss sssoon azsss ssSSlice isss able, we will form a sssearch grid and try and locate something to make this trip profitable.”

  “What do you think she was guarding?” And what about the attack on the ship?” asked the Irishman.

  “Azsss for the attack on the ssship, I think with the Queen dead we have ssseen the last of her aidesss. Azsss to what the Queen wasss guarding, I can only hope it isss treasssure and not a horde of young One warriorsss jussst waiting to grow up and caussse trouble,” hissed Snarth ironically.

  “With the Queen dead, any hatchlings would have also died, like last time, wouldn’t they?” I asked.

  “Let usss hope ssso Human Tom, let usss hope ssso,” lamented Snarth as he admired the optimism of youth, regretting silently the loss of both
his youth and his optimism.

  “Until then, how about a couple of games of cards?” asked the Irishman as he produced a rook deck. “Me and Rowl against Snarth and Tom. Losers get to go down the dark, scary passageway first.”

  “You’re on,” hissed Snarth, who badly needed the distraction, as did I.

  After three hands into the first game and with both scores in the negative, the Irishman said, “Enough of this playing around, I am going to moon.”

  “Hah, not if I can help it,” I scoffed.

  “You are on your own, partner, no help here, I am one card from a misdeal,” growled Rowl.

  “Now that isss what I like to hear from acrossss the table,” hissed Snarth with a huge tentacle-wiggling grin.

  “Green is trump,” said the Irishman as he led the green twelve.

  With a grin, I played the bird, followed by Rowl who played the green five.

  “Sorry partner, that is the only green I have,” Rowl said apologetically.

  “It only getsss worssse old friend,” hissed Snarth as he played the green ten, sealing the Irishman’s fate.

  “Why is it Snarth, that you always have the ten of my trump,” complained the Irishman.

  “Jussst lucky I guessss,” hissed Snarth with another of his huge grins.

  “Whose deal is it? asked the Irishman.

  Before Snarth could answer, SSlice entered the forward lounge.

  “Well if it isssn’t the hero of the forbidden planet, the Queen ssslayer himssself,” hissed Snarth in a warm greeting. “How are you feeling, old friend?”

  “I am feeling much better thank you,” answered SSlice.

  “You had us all worried,” woofed Rowl.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “When a spinner injects all of its venom they pass out from fluid loss. Very similar to when a human loses too much blood,” SSlice whispered. “I am fine now.

  “Human Tom, the surgical mech says the feline master will require an additional ten long time units in the bacta tank. It seems that the burns the Queen gave her are proving difficult to regenerate. He is confident she will recover fully, this is just a minor setback. He still predicts a ninety nine percent chance,” said SSlice.

  “That isss great newsss,” said Snarth loudly trying to distract me from my misery.

  “Hear, hear,” echoed the Irishman and Rowl.

  Seeing through Snarth’s efforts, SSlice said, “While I was up on the ceiling of the Queen’s chamber I did a few scans. I will put them up on the main viewer,” thinking that a mystery might distract his human friend further. “The limited range of the hand held scanner I was using is quite evident, as you can see,” SSlice continued.

  “Of particular interest is this area of uniformly spaced ‘chambers’ for lack of a better term, here,” SSlice whispered, pointing to an area not far from the Queen’s chamber. Just down the passageway that the feline master discovered. “That is where I think we should start looking. Whatever is there is important to the Queen, or it would not be so close to her chamber,” concluded SSlice.

  “Ok my friendsss,” hissed Snarth, “we ssstart exploring where ssSSlice sssuggessstsss at firssst light. That givesss you about sssix long time unitsss of rack time, I sssuggest you ussse it. Human Tom you will begin the sssearch with the team but I want you back on the ssship when the feline massster comesss out of the bacta tank. You have your ordersss, dismissssed,” hissed Snarth, putting an end to the rook game.

  After a fitful sleep, I woke to the chime of the 0600 alarm. After I bathed and dressed for the day’s hunt, I made my way down to the mess hall for a quick bite and a cup of wakeup before I checked on my mate’s condition for the fiftieth time.

  I was not surprised to find all of the other team members doing the same. “Good morning all,” I said in greeting as I poured my first cup of wakeup and grabbed two of the breakfast sandwiches that the mech chef had prepared. After finishing one sandwich in two bites, I headed for the medical bay, eating the other on the way.

  When I arrived, the first thing I saw was that my mate was still in the bacta tank being scanned by the surgical mech. I patiently waited until the mech had finished its scan before I spoke.

  “How is she Doc?” I asked the mech.

  “Her bones have healed completely and I have made progress in the regeneration of her burns,” bleeped the mech. “I estimate her treatment in the bacta tank will last at least another six long time units. Then all that is left to heal is the regrowing of her fur where she was burned. I anticipate no scarring, loss of fur or loss of ability, with proper rehabilitation training,” bleeped the lead surgical mech.

  “Please contact me if there is any change and when she is due to come out of the bacta tank,” I said.

  “You are her mate?” bleeped the lead surgical mech unexpectedly.

  “Yes I am,” I answered, dreading his answer.

  “That explains the child,” bleeped the mech without any emotion in its flat clinical metallic version of galactic standard.

  “CHILD? What child?” I spluttered, caught completely off guard.

  “Your mate is with child. Did you not know?” bleeped the surgical mech.

  “How is that possible? I am human and she is feline,” I asked, my mind reeling trying to get a grip on what was happening.

  “It is a highly unusual pregnancy,” bleeped the head surgical mech. “Your DNA and that of the felines are quite different. However, the base pairs of chromosomes are apparently quite compatible. It is also unusual in the fact that there are only two fetuses. Most feline pregnancies have four or more. In this case, it would seem to be only twins,” bleeped the head surgical mech.

  “TWINS,” I slurred as my head began to swim, and I went down hitting the deck with a bounce.

  It was several minutes later when I came to, smelling a familiar yet awful smell. It was Snarth waving another one of those foul ampules under my nose as he tried to bring me back around.

  “Easssy, Human Tom, while the sssurgical mech completesss his ssscan, then we can get you into a bunk,” hissed Snarth in a stern tone.

  Looking around I saw all of the other team members crowded around the door with anxious looks on their faces. “I am all right, I just fainted,” I protested, my cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

  “We will let the sssurgical mech be the judge of that,” hissed Snarth as he helped me up and guided me toward a surgical bunk.

  “It is a curious trait of this species to lose conciousness in times of a severe psychological shock,” bleeped the surgical mech, “His blood pressure has returned to normal. He sustained no injury in his fall, he is fit for duty.”

  “What shock?” hissed Snarth demanding an answer. “What isss it talking about, Human Tom?”

  “I am not sure how, but I am going to be a father,” I said, still in a daze. Howls of congratulations rang through the ship, accompanied by much pounding on my back until I was nearly senseless.

  “Well if you don’t know how it happened I can get the mech here to explain it to you,” hissed Snarth with his usual sly tentacle-wiggling grin.

  “I know how it happened, I just did not think our species could have children together,” I said defensively my cheeks getting even redder with embarrassment. “I never thought I would be a father, much less a father of twins.”

  “TWINS!” howled Rowl; this set off another round of ear splitting cheers from my teammates.

  “Thisss definitely callsss for a huge celebration. However, it will have to wait. Therefore, I sssuggest we find the treasssure and get the hell out of here ssso Uncle ssSnarth can throw a party,” hissed Snarth with a huge grin, the like of which I had never seen before. “Time to go, my friendsss, mount up, we have a treasssure to find,” hissed Snarth. “Businessss alwaysss comesss before pleasssure.”

  PART NINETEEN

  From the Ashes

  After seeing the Queen fall, the young nymph ordered the few of his nest mates who were left: “As so
on as the aliens have left, gather as many charged energy collection globes as you can and follow me.”

  “The Queen is dead,” stated the senior elder flatly, trying to reassert his dominance.

  Gathering his courage, the young nymph said as forcefully as he could without shouting, “All that has transpired is as the Queen foresaw it. We must dedicate ourselves to the hatching of the new Queen.”

  “What new Queen?” demanded the senior elder, refusing to back down.

  “The one the Queen spawned before the great defeat. The one who has been waiting for five hundred seasons of the sun to take her rightful place as our Queen,” shouted the young nymph, no longer caring if the aliens heard or not.

  “And where is this Queen’s egg?” asked the senior elder in continuing defiance to the young nymph’s authority.

  “Where else but the royal birthing chamber,” answered the young nymph, his temper under control once again.

  “And you know this how?” asked the senior elder.

  “The Queen’s affairs are no business of yours. However if I must convince you to do your duty AGAIN, I will tell you,” said the young nymph. “The Queen knew that her time to join the Old Ones was close at hand. She knew that she would not survive the encounter with the aliens. She instructed me to gather any that survived and begin the birthing of the new Queen. She told me the location of the royal birthing chamber, and how to quicken the royal egg into life,” said the young nymph.

  Invoking the name of the Old Ones had caused every survivor to bow, scraping their chest plates to a high shriek on the ground, including the senior elder. “Her will is our command,” echoed through the small chamber where the remnants of the young nymph’s nest hid from the aliens.

  “Each of you take a full energy collection globe and follow me. We must hurry, as we have a long way to go and time is short,” commanded the young nymph, his authority no longer in question.