Invasion Earth

by David Tienter

  “So your last resort option is open. I can understand why you’re not just jumping into that.”

  “Would you consider a mind probe?”

  “What the hell is a mind probe? Sounds absolutely horrible.”

  “My Hero, have I ever done anything to you that was horrible? Do you not understand how precious you are to me yet? But for right now, why don’t you just rest for a short time to power up your batteries. Take a little nap.”

  “Before we proceed with our labor, I need you to promise that you will no longer cloak yourself or anyone else from me.”

  “I do promise that to you. I have a very limited ability to cloak my appearance now anyway. It exhausted me trying to keep Moe, Larry, and Curly looking human to you.”

  Trist stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. His mind was racing with all she had told him. What in hell had he been eating this last week? Could it be some form of ground up snakes and protozoa? He knew the bathroom had reeked when he used it. Did she really consider him precious? She was really cute when she was cloaked; maybe this could work out for him. Just go to sleep, he thought. This has to be one of the strangest experiences anyone ever had, and despite the incredibly bad smell that rolled out of the bathroom, he was still alive and actually felt very good.

  THE MIND PROBE

  Trist’s old pickup had a few rattles and groaned softly when he kicked the speed above fifty. It was twenty years old and no longer cherry, but he liked the statement it made about his values. Another good was that it got twenty plus miles to a gallon and was reliable for his daily commute to the base.

  He slowed to stop at the Naval guard-house, showing his federal ID to the guard.

  “Hey Trist, how’s the shakes?” asked the guard.

  ‘Same old, same old. But another day down from the big countdown. Only 187 days and I’m wearing civvies.”

  “Rat snort, two full years left for me. Hey, have a good day, Doc,” the gate-guard said as he waved Trist through.

  Trist thought the morning sun reflecting off the large angular building before him made it resemble a Mayan Sun Temple more than a Naval hospital. Well, it used to be a hospital anyway, he doubted it treated patients anymore. Its name written in large letters across the front was Nimitz Naval Hospital; however, there was also a brass plate near the entrance that stated, NMRU-16(NAVAL MEDICAL RESEARCH UNIT). He had no idea where the other 15 research units were located, or even if there were 15 more.

  Trist and five other corpsman worked on the seventh floor of the building. They worked on an experiment sent up by a Dr. Duffy, designed to help advance the future of space travel. The major basis of their work was to develop a sustainable food supply for very long space trips. The tests had been going on when Trist had arrived here two years ago, and, as far as he could see, would continue into the future.

  Every morning, the corpsmen emptied a six-gallon container of cow manure into a tub containing a quart of endo-bacteria. They mixed it well, added two gallons of water, and spread the odoriferous concoction on a large metal sheet. It was put under warming lamps set at 86 degrees. The bacteria had the capacity to reproduce every thirteen minutes. After four hours, the trays were checked to make sure all the manure had been consumed, then the product would be dumped into individual containers, mixed with flavoring, and baked at 300 degrees for two hours. It was deemed to be safe for consumption at that time.

  Trist had never tasted the mixture, nor had the other corpsmen. Dr. Dudley arranged all testing at a place unknown to the team members.

  They frequently joked that there was a floor of Guantanamo prisoners kept somewhere in the basement, and the converted manure was fed to them.

  Trist’s personal duties as part of the team was to take ten samples from each batch of endo-bacteria and spread them on a petri dish covered with nutrients and put them into an incubator overnight. His work verified that stray bacteria had not contaminated the specimens.

  The enlisted men usually had all actual work finished by noon each day, but were required to stay until four o’clock. The afternoons were dedicated to games of pinochle or cribbage. Usually at a penny a point.

  Trist’s real interest was in the advanced work on DNA which was being done on the seventh floor. He talked to one of the junior officers, a Dr. Sills, who had taught him what to look for. Now when the floor was empty, he occasionally examined his blood to see what his DNA strands and genes looked like. Under the electronic microscope, he could magnify a cell large enough to actually see the double helix strands of genes.

  While he was looking at the sixteenth strand one day, he accidentally touched the laser button and saw the brilliant red beam burn the gene. He heard Dr. Sills coming down the stairs from the card game. Trist hadn’t expected Sills for at least another hour. He quickly turned off the microscope and pulled his slide out from under the glass. In his hurry, he accidentally flipped the slide, and the liquid splattered into his eyes. He grabbed his glasses and he hurried to the elevator, wiping the liquid from his face and eyes.

  That’s it, he thought, the altered gene make-up had entered him through his eyes and gradually had changed his body make-up. That gene had to be the answer.

  He woke immediately to find he was on Izixebi’s bed.

  “I’ve found it,” he told her, “I know why I’m immune.”

  “I know, My Hero Warrior. It was my probe of your mind that lead you to the truth.”

  THE RACE TO EARTH

  “We have to go now Trist. I’ve received a message from Larry. They know the laboratory failed and they’re after you. I don’t know how many are coming, but it’ll be too many for us.”

  She carefully picked Trist up, held him under her arm gently, and ran out of the building and into a set of apartment buildings across the street from hers. She squeezed through a tight alley and came out on the road. He tried to keep track of where they were going in the dark, but quickly became confused. He relaxed; his fate and destination were in Izixebi’s hands. The trip ended in front of a large building. He knew this must be where the work on the exigator was done.

  “We’re going to try it, Trist. I’ve reversed the fields and if everything works correctly, we can travel through it from here to earth.”

  She entered her cramped office, bolted the door behind her, set Trist in the only chair, and began flipping switches and rotating knobs on the control panel. Reaching behind the panel, she pulled out the old motherboard and reinserted the new electronic panel.

  “This is it,” she cried, “pray to Zanper for the best,” and turned on the power. A round blue light immediately appeared. Together, they looked at it in awe.

  A loud banging sounded at the door.

  “Go now, Trist,” she cried, “that door won’t hold too long.”

  “Go to where?”

  She picked him up and threw him headlong into the blue hole. She dove into it behind him.

  They were back in Trist’s bedroom. He lay still, trying to get his bearings.

  “Hurry, My Hero, they’ll be right behind us.”

  He tore off the rags that had been his PJ’s and the shoes Izixebi had made for him, pulled on a shirt and some jeans and his running shoes, picked up his glasses and wallet, put a large-brimmed hat on Izixebi’s head, took two coats, and ran for the door. A Tonkian was just coming through the portal. Trist recognized him as Larry.

  “Come on, Larry,” he said. We gotta be out of here before they follow us through the portal.”

  They ran up the stairs to the garage where Trist’s pickup was parked. “Lie down in the back,” he told them. “If someone sees you, they’ll think you’re lawn ornaments.” Throwing his old beater in gear, he headed out with his wheels howling on every sharp corner. As he left the building, he looked back at the exit long enough to see a Royal Guardsman from Tonk run out the front of his building. He knew the Tonkians might have caught them it they had rushed to the garage instead of Canal Street.

  “Whatever happens now
,” he shouted to the pair in back, “do not kill any earthmen. That will turn everyone on earth against us.”

  He drove as fast as he could in the heavy traffic. He was lucky. Highway 41 was moving pretty fast. He turned on his radio. News of the alien invasion would soon be on the air. He followed 41 all the way to Waukegan. He circled back and took local streets south to Great Lakes, where NMRU 16 was located.

  The local traffic was stop and go and he knew that Izixebi and Larry were suffering from the heat from the morning sun. He pulled under a tree in the enlisted men’s parking, so they would be in the shade. He saw they were breathing fast from the heat. “Cloak yourselves,” he said, “don’t want anyone to see you. The radio is broadcast news of a battle on Canal Street between green aliens and the authorities. By now an alert will have been sent out.”

  He went into the Rathskellar, an eating place for the enlisted men, and bought them both a large soda to cool them off.

  One sip of the sweet liquid was sufficient. They both spit it out immediately.

  “Can’t drink that,” said Izixebi. “Could you find us some water?”

  Trist ran back to the café and bought them quart bottles of water.

  The Tonkians were cloaked looking like earthmen. Larry waited at the truck, while he and Izixebi went to see if the gene change would alter Izixebi’s DNA. She sat on a bench in the shade of a potted tree on the plaza. The heat from earth’s sun was merciless on her and she shrank back from it, while he explained what had appeared to him in the mind probe.

  “I see now,” said Izixebi. “You worked here at something you didn’t understand, at a monotonous job that never seemed to change, and now you believe something happened here and nowhere else to change your DNA. Is that essentially what you’re thinking?”

  “It has to be here. I sure as hell didn’t get immunity from watching the Cubbies play ball while slapping down a hot dog.”

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “I left without my badge, which will be a problem. Please sit here quietly, and watch me. If I manage to get in the door, I’ll wave.”

  “Nothing inspires optimism like an intricate, well-developed plan.”

  “Bite me,” said Trist as he walked toward the entrance. Drawing close to two younger women near the entrance, he greeted them like old friends and walked through the entrance with them.

  He broke off from them as they approached the elevators. “Excuse me, ladies, I left my badge in my car,” he said, and walked back toward the door.

  He signaled Izixebi and opened the door as she came up.

  “You going to tell me who they are?”

  “Just two girls who I recognized as working here,” said Trist.

  “Wow,” said Izixebi. “Just two girls. I suppose you know every beautiful girl in the building?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Those two girls that were so chummy with you. They were stunning.”

  Trist was working on getting up to floor seven and not paying that much attention to what Izixebi was saying.

  “Okay,” he said, “this could be a little tricky. We need passes to get to the upper floors, and I don’t have my badge.”

  “Maybe you could just call Hot and Steaming Hot to come down and help you.”

  “Izixebi, why are you carrying on about those girls? Cheese and rice, they were just ‘ze Basics’. You need to be paying attention, we have to get up to floor seven before someone notices us. When we get on, wait until someone swipes his badge, and ask him to push floor seven. And try smiling at him.”

  “Tell me about ‘ze Basics.’”

  “Well, you saw those two. Always the right height and weight, dressed in latest fashions, faces flawlessly made up, hair done professionally several times weekly. Their favorite television show is The Bachelorette, and they believe Kim Kardashian is a demi-god. They’re high maintenance with low output. I think they exist only to find elderly rich spouses. That’s ‘ze Basic.’”

  The elevator doors opened and an older man stepped on with Izixebi and Trist. As the man swiped his card, Izixebi stumbled slightly and fell against him. “Could you press seven for me please?” She smiled at him sweetly.

  “Everyone needs to swipe their own card for security reasons. You should know that,” the man said.

  “Thanks a bunch, Geezer Breath,” she said and punched him once. He smashed back against the wall and slumped to the floor. She took his card and his wallet. She opened the door at the next floor, tossed him out, and pressed the button for floor seven. “Did you like my smile?”

  “I certainly did. Doesn’t look like he was too impressed, though.”

  “Don’t worry, My Hero, I didn’t kill him. I just knocked him unconscious.”

  She stood next to Trist. “I saw many like those two girls while I was studying your culture. They were in many of the one-minute stories that were used to break up the main histories. I think they called them models. Why didn’t you choose one of them? With your courage, you could have any female for a mate.”

  “Yeah,” said Trist, “most ‘ze Basics’ could be models. Actually, I did date one for a while. She was a local model. She was stunning to look at and for a while, I was enthralled just thinking that this gorgeous girl was my date. She had thick lush brown hair, eyes that seemed to hold the universe in sway, and when she walked, it was like music playing. But I woke up one day and realized she was totally boring. Most of our conversations were about her, how her hair looked, if her make-up was okay, and what picture shoots she had coming up. She spent two or more hours every morning in the bathroom. We couldn’t go anywhere in the sun, too hard on her skin. Couldn’t go for a walk on the beach, the wind would mess up her hair. She was always on display. Her only purpose in life was to look beautiful.

  “The things I enjoyed, like fishing, or hunting, or even an afternoon watching a ball game were unacceptable to her. Finally I figured out that the only reason I liked dating her was the envy other men felt when I entered a room with her on my arm. I want a woman to love, one who will love me, not an ornament on my arm. So we split. That’s why now I’m not overly attracted to outward appearances.”

  They exited on the seventh floor, and headed directly for the room that held the electronic microscope.

  “Trist,” said Izixebi, “thank you for telling me why you didn’t pick one of the models as a mate. In all of the tapes I watched, earthmen always want the prettiest girl.”

  “I was waiting for a girl who called me her Hero-Warrior.”

  “You will always be my Hero-Warrior.”

  Dr. Sills was working on something when they walked into the room.

  “Hey Trist, how you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Good to see you again, Dr. Sills. I’ve been busy and fell in love. I promised her you would let her see what her genes look like. Could you do that for me?”

  “You know she shouldn’t be here.”

  “Yes, but you know and can trust me, she’s not a foreign agent here to steal secrets. Hell, if they catch us here, they’ll just give me a couple of days without pay.”

  “Long as you take the heat if they see her here. I’ll be glad to help you. Get some of her blood for me. I’ll get everything set up.”

  Trist jammed the syringe hard at Izixebi’s arm, knowing it would be tough to get through her carapace. The fluid he put on the slide was actually colorless, but Izixebi made certain that, to the doctor, it looked red.

  Trist looked through the scope, located the gene, and hit the laser, removing part of the gene. “Do you want to see it, dear?”

  “That would be thrilling,” she giggled, and took a quick look. “Thank you so much, Dr. Sills,” she said, giving him a hug. “It’s been wonderful meeting you, Trist talks about you frequently.” As they left, Trist took the slide and gave it to her. She rubbed it in her eyes. “This is what made you immune, now I’ll be immune too.”

  In the lobby, Trist asked her if they coul
d take the electronic microscope back and make the Tonkians immune.

  “Can’t be done. It’s too big and too delicate. They would never trust us anyway. It should all be so simple, but we’re dealing with a populace so afraid of dying that they’re not acting logically.”

  “What do we do next, now that you’re immune?”

  “I may be immune, but I see no way we can return to Tonk. I think what we need is a secure place for you and me. Somewhere that our children will be safe.”

  “Okay, I need to think about that for a while.”

  INVASION EARTH

  The Battle began during an early morning rush hour in Chicago, a city well-known for its feisty, independent people. Hot, humid summers and cold, snowy winters combined with a steady wind blowing off Lake Michigan resulted in a hardy, short-tempered populace. The streets were jammed with taxis and limos, as usual; nothing was moving fast, except hands on horns and shouts of profanity. The pedestrians were moving faster than the road traffic. The sidewalks here on Canal Street were heavily used by masses of commuters who rode the trains and buses to the city depots, downtown. Blaring horns and loud street hawkers pitching their wares assailed the crowd. The pedestrians were busy maintaining the area of their own private space as they wove through the crowd. Perhaps they were thinking of the work they would soon be spending a portion of their life performing.

  Inside Trist’s apartment stood Slithest, patiently waiting for High General Stiets to pass through the portal. The ease of teleporting had surprised Slithest. He saw the General’s head begin to come through and waited patiently and respectfully near the door.