A Beginner's Guide to Invading Earth

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Oliop,” Jeff said. “Put your hand down. Take a step back. These folks are a bit nervous. And they don't have translators.”

  Oliop put his hand down, and Jordan guided him back a couple of steps.

  “Who are you people?” the cop asked, voice laced with panic. “Where did you come from? What is this thing?”

  Oliop started to explain but Jeff shushed him. “They can't understand you.”

  “Put the gun down,” Jordan said.

  “Hands where I can see them,” the cop ordered.

  “Look, we were kidnapped,” Jeff said, “By the creatures that own this ship. We need help.”

  The firefighter came forward. “Ted, bring them to the fire station,” he said to the cop. “We can talk there. My guys will secure the site and keep everyone back from the crash. We'll figure out what to do.”

  The cop nodded. To Jeff's relief, he lowered the gun. That was when he heard several short honks of a car horn. Three black Suburbans with bright headlights appeared, driving over mounds of debris and onto the sidewalk near one of the coffee shops, parting a crowd of onlookers. A trio of men in black suits got out.

  “Who are you?” the cop asked as the three new arrivals approached them. The trio looked ridiculous wearing their dark glasses with the gloom of dust still swirling the air.

  “We're in charge here now,” the first man in the black suit said. From the other two Suburbans came a half dozen more men and women, all dressed in black.

  “I'm...” the cop started to say with some hesitation. “I'm going to need some identification.”

  Jeff was about to say something to the cop. These are Bunnie. These are alien invaders with dozens of grabby arms cinched inside human skins. The stuff of nightmares. But he didn't know where to begin.

  The first man in black got close. He cocked his head, and his neck popped. He made a fist, and the knuckles cracked. Then he pulled out his wallet. The cop examined a white ID card and a badge. He looked at the agent and his companions as they spread out around the spaceship.

  “I guess you are in charge,” the cop said.

  “Get these people back,” the agent said, pointing to the crowd of onlookers.

  With two pointed fingers he gestured towards Jeff's trio. Three of the agents moved Jeff, Jordan, and Oliop to the side of a Suburban. Oliop sniffed one of them. An agent began to pat them down as the others stood and watched. Oliop giggled as the agent's hands moved over his body. Jeff noticed the man didn't check the null-space pouch. Maybe he didn't know what it was. Maybe this was actually a human agent of some government organization. Jeff looked around, saw half of the agents watching them. No easy route of escape presented itself.

  More cars honked. Another three Chevy Suburbans made their way through the crowded town center, parting people where possible, and finally pulling up onto a section of the ruined park's grass. More men and women in dark suits got out. How many of these guys were there? But not all of these wore black, but charcoal and navy blue. From a different department? Then Jeff saw that one of the new arrivals was Not-Kim, but again re-skinned. Across Not-Kim's face ran a line of shiny sutures as if his disguise was now held together by patches of glue. All of their suits looked freshly pressed, and their white shirts starched. Not-Kim saw Jeff in an instant, and his face hardened. He and his group moved in formation towards the crash and the three hijackers. The first agents in black intercepted the Bunnie, the two groups facing off with one another like some Secret Service scrimmage.

  “Who are you guys?” an agent asked Not-Kim.

  “They're not human,” Jeff called to the agent. “They're dangerous.”

  Not-Kim punched the agent in the chest, and the agent sprawled to the ground, stunned. The other agents stood in shock.

  “Get them,” Not-Kim said. It wasn't clear if that meant get the other agents or Jeff and his fellow travelers. The government agents snapped out of their inertia. They drew boxy, ugly pistols from shoulder holsters.

  Not-Kim and his not-agents went into action, moving impossibly quick, leaping at the human agents and knocking them down before they could get off a shot.

  Jeff grabbed Oliop and Jordan by the shoulders. “Run towards the theater,” Jeff said, indicating an old-style neon marquee just off the park square. The dark neon vertical letters above the movie house entrance read “ROYAL."

  Before Jeff could move, the human agent still next to him clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “You're not going anywhere,” the agent said.

  “I think you need to help your friends,” Jeff said. “We're not the threat here.”

  “Look out!” Jordan screamed.

  Not-Kim landed next to the agent and smiled. The agent reached under his jacket. Not-Kim flat palmed the man in the chest and knocked him into the Suburban with enough force that it dented the vehicle. The agent collapsed to the street like a rag.

  “We have unfinished business,” Not-Kim said. Behind him there was chaos as not-agents chased down the human agents with furious efficiency, swatting them down and about with ease. Some of the disguised Bunnie giggled as they leaped about, their earlier composure forgotten. Some of the agents were now running for their lives.

  “Hold it right there, partner," the cop said to Not-Kim. He stepped forward with his pistol up. He sighted down the barrel. “I don't know who or what the hell you are, but I will shoot.”

  “Put the gun down,” Not-Kim said. “These people are dangerous.” He pointed towards Oliop. “This alien carries disease.”

  Oliop gave himself a sniff.

  “Step back,” the cop said.

  Not-Kim's arms went down, palms up. “Just take it easy officer,” he said. “We're on the same side.”

  “We'll see about that,” the cop said.

  Jeff watched as from underneath Not-Kim's black suit coat, two spiny-haired Bunnie arms popped free. The long, sleek limbs unfolded low to the ground just behind Not-Kim. He looked like a scorpion with two tails ready to strike.

  “What the hell are you?” the cop asked.

  “You should have listened,” Not-Kim said.

  Not-Kim was quick. Oliop was, too. His tail reached into the nearby fallen agent's coat. He retrieved a taser from a hip holster. His tail passed the weapon off to his right hand, and Oliop fired. Two darts flew out, streaming two wires behind them that were attached to the body of the weapon. They struck Not-Kim and completed a circuit that delivered multiple pulses of 50,000 volts into the disguised alien. Not-Kim jumped, twisted, and fell into a twitching heap. He made a gagging sound. Something moved under his human mask, and green spit slid from his mouth.

  “Run,” Jeff said. They ran. The cop followed. They rounded the Suburban and kept low, navigating through the cars jamming the street. A human agent went sailing above them and crunched into a sidewalk mailbox. The local citizens were now screaming, shouting, running. A pair of small dogs, both dark-muzzled brown mutts not much bigger than Kleenex boxes, accosted one of the Bunnie. He kicked at them, but the two canines persisted in their barking and tugging at the Bunnie's pant cuffs.

  Jeff led the group down the side of the theater. They passed through an immaculately clean alleyway and into a rear parking lot that led to another street.

  “Wait,” the cop said. “Hold it.”

  They stopped. The cop was about to speak, gestured with his gun towards the center of town. He didn't know where to start. Jeff felt glad he wasn't the confused one for a change.

  “You're wondering what's going on,” Jordan said helpfully.

  “An alien ship just crashed in your town,” Jeff said. “We were flying it, but we're not aliens. Well, he is.” Jeff pointed at Oliop. “But he's okay and isn't diseased. Government agents came to collect us. We don't know them. But we do know the other ones disguised as government agents. Those are other aliens and not nice ones. We need to get away from them.”

  The cop nodded as if he followed what Jeff said. “I need to get back. I can't let those things hurt anyo
ne. But I can't let you people go.”

  “We're on the same side,” Jordan said. “And those things will hurt you if you try to stop them. We have to go. So, Officer...”

  “It's Ted.” Ted considered for a moment. “Run a block down this street. There's a firehouse on the left. Go there and stay there. I'll meet you there if I can.” His radio squawked. Some urgent chatter came over the airwaves. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Officer,” Jeff said, “Be careful. Those things are quick and deadly.”

  “I saw,” Ted said. “You folks go on as I told you, and I'll be along shortly.”

  Jeff nodded. He felt a sense of relief knowing someone else might actually help them.

  Ted turned and marched back towards the town center. He spoke into his shoulder handset as he went.

  Jeff and the others jogged down the street. On the left, they found a mauve-painted firehouse with a faux-brick columned entryway. Two tall, beige sliding doors to the garage were closed. A carved wooden sign with big yellow letters read, “Stuart Lake Fire Dept.” Jeff walked towards the two glass front doors.

  Jordan gave a worried look back the way they came. “Jeff, this is no good. The Bunnie are too close. We need to keep running.”

  “You may be right,” Jeff said. “But we could use help from someone, anyone at this point. And where are we running to?”

  Oliop slid past Jeff and peered through the glass doors. He smelled the air. A large meaty dog's face pressed onto the other side of the glass. The bulldog let out a half bark, more of an emphatic grunt. Oliop jumped back. The dog considered them and then turned and left the window. Jeff rang the buzzer by the side of the door. No one answered. The dog didn't return.

  “I'm guessing they're all in town responding to the emergency,” Jordan said.

  Jeff paced a bit before looking around the sides of the firehouse. “Would be good to get out of sight,” he said.

  Oliop scaled the faux brick and was quickly on the roof. Jeff heard the sound of bending metal. By the time Jeff and Jordan walked out into the street to look up at the top of the firehouse, Oliop was gone. They saw a skylight that rested slightly off its base.

  “He's your alien,” Jordan said. “You should say something.”

  “It wouldn't do any good,” Jeff said.

  The front door to the firehouse opened. Oliop stood in the doorway. A fat bulldog with an underbite waddled after him, looking up at Oliop with curiosity. It gave his foot a brief sniff and was content to follow the spindly alien intruder.

  They all were about to enter when an alarm bell sounded. The bulldog began to howl accompaniment in a low whup-whup sound.

  “Fire?” Jordan said.

  “Burglar,” Jeff said. He stepped past them and examined a keypad just inside the front door. He read a small lit screen. It informed him that an alarm in “Zone 3” had been activated and scrolled an emergency response number and 911. “Oliop, got a screwdriver?”

  Oliop produced a screwdriver. Jeff took it and popped the face of the keypad, examining the circuit board underneath. He pried the battery from its housing, but the alarm continued.

  “That won't work if there's still power,” Jordan said. She had to shout to overcome the jangling ring of the alarm. “Plus the alarm company will have the alert and will call the police.”

  “The police are busy,” Jeff said.

  Oliop was fiddling with a door marked “Keep Out.” He picked the lock and opened the door. Inside were breakers, each meticulously labeled. He threw everything. Click. Click. Click. The lights went out. The alarm didn't miss a beat. It and the dog continued their duet. The dog whupped and walked in dizzy circles.

  “Another battery on the alarm itself,” Jeff said. “Backups to prevent anyone trying what we're doing.”

  “Let's just get out of here,” Jordan said.

  Jeff tapped Oliop on the shoulder and gestured to the front door. They headed out. The dog saw them out before retreating back inside, whupping the entire time.

  “Which way?” Jordan asked.

  Jeff looked around. With the alarm even louder outside, he couldn't tell that there was a battle going on just a block away between the human-skinned spidery aliens, the government agents, and the good people of Stuart Lake. He pointed down the street towards a gas station. Anyplace but here would be an improvement, and they needed to make some distance from the Bunnie.

  “We need to grab a car,” Jeff said.

  Jordan nodded. “Was all this grass out here before?”

  Several tall strands of thin-bladed grass grew out of the driveway of the firehouse. Each stalk rose straight up from the concrete even though the driveway had no cracks. It gave the firehouse the look of an abandoned building. The grass hung heavy with seed and began to lean in towards the three. And it had not been there just minutes ago.

  Oliop's face scrunched.

  “Not grass,” he said. “Clyptus. Run.”

  Jeff heard Oliop say “Clyptus.” The word translated properly. But he had no point of reference for Clyptus, except that it didn't mean grass but rather some species from the Commons that Jeff hadn't met yet. They gave the “grass” a wide berth and ran down the alley. The Clyptus followed, each blade trembling and twitching on tiny legs. Up ahead, the grass also grew thick. The waist-high vegetation moved of its own accord into the paved alley, where just moments before it looked like a row of weeds growing wild at the side of a fence. The path forward was blocked, and behind them stood a similar wall of sentient plants.

  Jeff stopped. To either side of them stood a tall fence with small chain links that would make climbing difficult and a two story building with yellow stucco. They had to go forward or turn back, both ways blocked by the Clyptus.

  “What are they?” Jeff asked. “What do they want?”

  “Jeff Abel,” the Clyptus whispered.

  “That answers it,” Jordan said. “You're popular.”

  “They want vendetta,” Oliop said. “Revenge for failed first contact. And second contact. And third. And...”

  “I get it. How is any of that my fault?” Jeff said.

  “The Committee feels it is your fault,” Oliop said.

  “You never made clear how many other aliens might be out to get me.”

  “Can we talk later?” Jordan said. She picked up a loose board. She advanced with the makeshift weapon and swung it towards the plants. The Clyptus stopped, leaned forward, testing her reach. Their thin arms unfurled with tiny thorns at their tips. Jordan swung as a Clyptus moved forward. She missed. It recoiled, came forward again. She struck it with the board on the back swing. Tiny bits of plant matter flew into the air. Thorns scattered from its fingers. Angry whispers came from the other Clyptus as they inched forward from both sides.

  “Looks like love darts,” Jordan said, kicking at the thorns on the ground.

  The Clyptus let out a joint cooing, which sounded like a kazoo but translated into the Clyptus war cry. The Clyptus Captain, a quarter stalk taller than the rest and a little more brown, quivered with anger.

  “Get the humans,” he said. “Get all of them.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “AT LEAST SHUT DOWN these alarms,” Captain Flemming said. Shouting was such a waste of energy, so he refused to do it. His low, gruff voice was lost in the blast of sounds.

  The noise in the upper levels of the Commons security building sounded louder than in the lobby. A trio of technicians worked frantically at their terminals, but the alarms continued to bleat, blare, and send up a frenzy of sight, scent, and vibration alerts that indicated an emergency to all species in range. As previous alerts went unheeded, the security system added more, piling onto the already stultifying noise.

  Flemming cleared his throat and repeated himself into one of the tech's earstalks. “Shut down the alarms!”

  “We can't,” the technicians with the earstalks shouted. “The system is frozen. All inputs are on lockdown.”

  “Only when one is truly locked out w
ill she understand what it means to truly need to get in,” Detective Ceph said, just loud enough to for Captain Flemming to hear him. He stood just behind the Captain. Even the detective appeared irritated with the noise, his face tentacles plugging his audio sensors.

  Flemming walked to a window that looked out at several other high rise towers. Lights blinked everywhere now, down every street and on every species building. He gestured Ceph over, had him lean close so they could speak.

  “The entire security system has been activated, but it won't deactivate,” Flemming said.

  Ceph nodded as if through his tentacles in his ears and the blasting noise he could actually hear the Captain. Flemming tugged one of the tentacles out of Ceph's ear hole.

  “Listen,” Flemming said. “The crush of alert data is overwhelming and is amounting to nonsense.”

  Flemming tapped a finger to his lips, considering what to do. He studied the surrounding landscape of the Commons below, fused together by an alert that couldn't be shut off, an alert that demanded attention to everything and thus nothing. The flashing lights played across the varied nearby structures with their towers, decorative crenelations, lines, and spheres. One narrow spire shined with a coppery glow, partially reflecting the blinking strobes. And below moved the citizenry of the Commons. Some would consider the view beautiful, even with the chaos. Flemming saw nothing but stress, a job that needed to be handled for the good of the colony that made up his body, his species, and by extension the entire Galactic Commons. He felt that way when the alarms weren't activated, too.

  “You know what I think?” Flemming said. Ceph shrugged. Flemming pulled Ceph close and repeated himself. Ceph shook his head, not following. This was no good. With obvious gestures, he got Ceph's attention. Captain Flemming reached into the null-space pouch on the lapel of his uniform. He gingerly removed the small translator and placed it in his pocket. He nodded at Ceph to do the same. Ceph removed his.

  Flemming continued to hear loud noises. But now the sounds and lights and smells meant nothing and weren't filtered into his brain through the translator. The volume of the whole mess was turned down. Flemming could think without the overload. He looked around the blinking security office with its frantic techs. He gestured for Ceph to follow. Ceph understood and went to the grav lift with the Captain.