The Alien Creator

by Michael Miller

  White House PEOC

  White House PEOC, Area-51, and Global Space participants hear Commander Jacko's orders to heroic Seal teams then watch and wait as the last ditch plan offered by the young scientist unfolds. Meanwhile, a fast-moving unmanned MQ-1 Reaper aerial vehicle, equipped with the latest cameras, satellite antennas, and sensors, takes over duties of the MQ-9 Predator. Swooping into the empty airspace at ten-thousand feet, it immediately provides detail close-up of the Andromedan monster. As the efficient killing machine blasts anything animate or threatening, natural gas ruptures, gasoline, and diesel fuel burn out of control with chaos moving deeper into the city by the minute.

  "How far away before they hit the tanks, General Moore?" President Wilford wonders. "What if the robot somehow avoids the nitrogen?"

  Moore rubs his chin as if contemplating the answer, though already formulating a response based on input from battlefield commanders. "That's why we picked this intersection, sir. It's large enough for tankers and to pass the robot must destroy them. We also have cranes in route that will dump an additional twelve thousand gallons, if needed. I'd guess they'll blow the tanks about fifty feet or closer. It can't be done too early."

  "What if it maneuvers around or over the tankers?" Wilford follows.

  "This robot doesn’t avoid objects, sir, based on what we've seen. Agility isn't its forte. It stays planted firmly on the ground with those huge foot-pods. My guess is developers assumed it can't be stopped, at least on Andromeda. It makes me wonder what kind of enemies it has faced. Nonetheless, our troops will blow the tanks before it passes."

  "Doesn't liquid nitrogen evaporate rapidly?"

  "Yes, it evaporates immediately on exposure to the air, but it's an enormous flow and extra nitrogen tanks are set to drop if needed," Moore explains.

  "All right," Wilford shrugs, "I suppose we've covered all the bases. We must strike fast so what it transmits to others war-bots is hindered. Lord knows what would happen if they counter this strategy. It's the last option short of dropping bombs, nuclear or otherwise."

  General Moore is cautious about the next topic, a failsafe measure commanders are prepping behind the scenes without express permission from their Commander in Chief. "I think it will work. Mr. President. Liquid nitrogen is nasty stuff. However, I strongly urge backup plans beforehand. We don't know what we don't know. For all practical purposes, Cyborg may have more up his sleeve than we imagine."

  "All right, General, but nuclear is absolutely the last straw. I might authorize Daisy Cutters or MOABS, but nothing else. I don't want an accident we'll regret. So far, all we're seeing from the robot is chaos meant to intimidate us."

  "Yes, sir; I'm not asking for nukes," he nods to an aide primed to execute the new orders.

  Chicago 5-Way Intersection

  As war-bot nears the wide city intersection, it studies the cryogenic tanks situated in a way that blocks its path. Not knowing if the odd vehicles several hundred feet ahead are threatening, the careful robot slows pace as electronic eyes scan and send information to its central processor. Though streets are clear of humans and moving vehicles, war-bot approaches the crossroad ready to fire. However, while the area was supposed to evacuate earlier, several rowdy neighborhood teens dart from the front door of a corner Coffee Shop and head up N. Lincoln toting handfuls of stolen goods. Running and looking back at the robot about a hundred feet behind them, the effective machine zeroes on the fleet-footed teens and fires. As the burning rays strike, hot coffee cups, bags of chips, and handfuls of pastries fly from their clutches. Almost at the end of life temporary survivors cry and writhe due to burns beyond imagination. Unnecessary short bursts end their struggle for life while frustrated warriors watch the horror.

  Perhaps diverting the robot's attention enough to make a difference, Commander Jacko uses the unplanned opportunity, pointing his sidearm in the air and squeezes off a round. Soon after, distinct smoke trails of RPGs rip into the three 7,000-gallon cryogenic tanks causing thunderous explosions. Though inflammable, the extremely colorless frigid contents gush toward the robot. Though evaporating at high rates, fluid temperature remains below minus three-hundred degrees Fahrenheit. As the fierce alien evaluates the strange predicament, the flowing cryogenic liquid fully engulfs its massive pods along with nearby automobiles and pickup trucks parked along the street. Bending and touching the curious foggy liquid with a finger, the first aerial crane hovers overhead and quickly dumps its multi-ton cargo. Falling a couple hundred feet after twisted-strand cables release, rooftop Seals cut loose Barrett M-82 and MK-13 sniper rounds that rip gaping holes in the first tank before landing near the growling monster clearly affected by the cold liquid. Once banging on the cement surface, an RPG blows the tank as another aerial crane arrives.

  Angered by the first cryogenic tank's impact, the war-bot notices the second aerial crane and fires at its dangling cargo, clearly not understanding its purpose. When the hot laser beam cuts through the carbon steel material, contents instantly release atop the monster that further enrage it. Finally understanding his precarious situation, the skilled pilot releases the cords and banks sharply away from the intersection at high speed. Nonetheless, war-bot fires a prolonged laser stream that ignites the crane's fuel supply sending it spiraling out of control.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alien Spacecraft

  nce Zote rewires and trips the outer door's binary switch, Captain Beck and troops tense as the door opens to a dim entry. Urged by Zote to step through quickly and be quiet before the door shuts, the seven invaders regroup inside and wait as Zote assesses the situation. Motioning for Delta team to move closer to a transparent enclosure ahead, they tread lightly until able to peer inside an impressive, high-tech space. Inside the intricate control room marked by colorful data screens, stacks of active computers, 3-D holograms, minions, and outer space portals, they find the seven-foot bio-mechanical hybrid standing next to hologram projections from the four war-bots.

  Beck and team wince as horrifying ground images show raging fires, burning and smoking automobiles and buildings, and countless bloody bodies strewn on the pavement. As they take in shocking feedback provided by war-bot wide angle lens, it's clear Cyborg is concerned about one of his machines that appears to have stalled and stopped fighting. Stealing attention, the bio-mechanical entity studies data feeds streaming on one of the three-dimensional rotating light fields.

  "Look at the background in the far right projection. It looks like Chicago's east side near the lake," Sgt. Jack whispers. "I might have been in that coffee shop," he further explains. "It's near Lincoln Park."

  "Yeah, I see it; the robot appears stuck," Sgt. Todd speculates, "and it's the only one not firing. It's standing in some type of toxic liquid."

  "It's liquid nitrogen based on the fog," Captain Beck offers optimistically. "They're freezing it, but the others are fighting and killing without effective resistance. Let's hope the home team found a way of stopping them."

  Sgt. Todd adds, "What if Cyborg is warning the other war-bots, sir? Shouldn't we get in there and divert attention?"

  Meanwhile, Zote moved near a long shiny bluish floor plate then motions for the team to follow as if cued by Todd's logical conclusion. "When I step on this surface, it opens to the bridge," he explains. "Once opened, Cyborg will attack immediately. Are you ready?"

  Alvin Beck eyes the wide-eye team as he and others casually slip on brass knuckles. "It's time to stop what's happening at home," he murmurs. "Once inside, we fight to the death. We don't leave this bridge until the job is done. Do you understand? Make sure Zote stays out of the way. This is our fight; is that clear? He's needed to fly this contraption and defang the war-bots once we've kicked Cyborg's tail."

  Offering an extended right fist for unity, the brave volunteers smile at their leader nodding and extending hands until forming a tight circle of brass knuckles. "Hoo," Beck replies softly.

  Before entering, Beck gives Zote a raised finger and breaks rad
io silence. Warning X-37D pilots Joe Mettars and Ray Thompson, he presses a button on his collar, his voice coming as welcome relief. "Be advised, we're going in. Helmet cams are on. Confirm; over." Beck breathes.

  Replying enthusiastically, Joe answers the long awaited call. "Confirmed; signal is strong, Captain. Communication systems are back on. You're live, gentlemen; out," Joe ends as Ray trips switches directly updating those on the ground.

  While cameras atop ballistic helmets aren't made public like fierce battles waging against the aliens in four cities, White House bunker leaders, Area-51 engineers, and Global Space employees gasp as the fight with Cyborg is set to begin. Listening and watching as the Army's best stage behind Zote, Beck decides to rush at Cyborg and take him down before it has time to consider options or deploy unknown weapons.

  Once Beck nods at Zote, he barks commands. "Go!" he shouts moving around Zote after the seven-foot android steps on the bluish floor plate. When the long transparent door rapidly opens, the six men run inside following their intrepid leader. Double-timing and closing the thirty-foot gap between them and Cyborg, Beck is first to reach the odd startled entity. Like running of the bulls, the men yell as the slugfest erupts. Opting not to use guns to avoid damage inside the magnificent spacecraft, the aggressive team piles on Cyborg as if a free-for-all or lopsided king-of-the-hill cage match. As the street fighters hit, kick, and punch the bionic victim, they're careful avoiding vice-grip hands Zote cautioned. Nonetheless, it's a rude awakening when the bionic creature retaliates, pushing with tremendous force. Following with a nasty backhand from the seven-foot creature, it knocks Sgt. Todd through a hologram light display and across the space several feet away. Landing solidly on his back against a neutered minion perched at a workstation, the small android seems oblivious or indifferent to the event. Like an annoying pest to ignore, the dedicated minion continues working once the NCO rolls onto the floor wincing in pain from potentially fractured ribs and painful bleeding jaw.

  Remaining fighters keep slugging, kicking, pulling, pushing, and tugging until Cyborg falls onto the helm's grated carbon alloy floor with a mighty crash. Piling atop pinning the incredible cybernetic arms and legs with piezoelectric properties in coordinated fashion while Beck barks commands, the officer repeatedly strikes the enemy's face with brass knuckles that damage an eye socket. Responding like an enraged bull stabbed by a matador's sword, the bionic marvel regroups making unnatural terrifying sounds and shrieks. Finally able to toss Sgt. Jack and Beck aside like toy rag dolls despite hefty thick-bone frames, the men groan from sheer agony. When a carbon-alloy foot meets Sgt. Jack's groin then connects against his broad chest like a sledgehammer, the NCO buckles like a squashed aluminum can.

  Meanwhile, as the life and death struggle wages twenty miles above the planet, Zote slips behind the main console where Cyborg stood moments earlier. Focusing on how war-bots are controlled based on a symbol language devised by Creators, the android glances occasionally to its right as friendly tolls mount. Scanning separate orthogonal displays moving in bilateral direction, the gifted robot locates the right source registry for war-bots exchanging data.

  Seeing the rebel android trusted by Creators at the main control panel, the one-eye hybrid exerts additional stored power enraged by unexplainable treachery. Better understanding the diversionary tactic using humans as bait and buffer, Cyborg frees itself from an onslaught of the hideous planet creatures beating its carbon-alloy frame. Clear after shoving the weaker, lighter humans away using stored kinetic energy, Cyborg tries reaching Zote with an outstretched vice-grip hand. However, determined combatants regain composure and reengage their prey, this time keeping it pinned face down after crashing to the unforgiving floor. Unable to exert the same force in a prone position as if topsy-turvy turtles, Beck and others begin feeling better about odds when they're stunned by a quick and painful jolt of energy ripping through bruised, tired bodies. Shaking and quivering from the unseen and unanticipated electrical surge, they groan and moan, finally lying still and unresponsive.

  White House PEOC

  Perplexed by the sudden halt in hand-to-hand combat, it's unclear watching the battle from Earth what transpired. As Zote keeps working to alter instructions to war-bots, functioning troops and Cyborg appear to be napping before the next round. Glassy eyes and frozen faces suggest whatever happened was instant, severe, and indiscriminate, perhaps deadly force.

  "I'd guess they were electrocuted," DoD's Greer deduces. "Their bodies tensed up and now they're lethargic and numb, probably unable to move, unconscious or even dead. Let's hope Zote can help them. Otherwise....," his voice trails off.

  "Cyborg isn't moving either and I thought I saw sparks," Wilford speculates. "Yeah, maybe it short-circuited and the fight is over. No wait;" he pauses, "darn it … it's beginning to stir again. Come on wake up, fellows. You're not done yet. Rise and shine."

  While White House leaders, Area-51 engineers, and Global Space employees are shocked from what they see and hear from cockeyed helmet cameras, Charles Brody points at a television screen covering Salt Lake City. "Look, the war-bot stopped activities in Salt Lake!" he exclaims. "It's not firing."

  Alien Spacecraft

  While Zote retasks streaming data that freezes war-bot operations city by city, Cyborg gradually regains mobility, struggling to stand on size-26 pods. Once seeing holograms at two locations showing motionless robots as if stuck in mud, the bionic beast snarls approaching Zote from his six. Ripping the android away from the console then knocking it to the floor with a punishing blow, it moves to stomp the renegade and end the threat. Fortunate to escape the pod, Zote rolls and rights itself as these previous allies square off.

  Meanwhile, Captain Beck awakens glassy eye with two soldiers atop him. Pushing them off, he rises and limps to help Zote. As Cyborg throttles the android with a death-grip vice, Beck jumps onto the hybrid's back putting the odd creature in a rear guillotine choke-hold. With size and mass enough to break the lock on Zote's considerable neck, combatants keel over with Beck landing on his back. At bottom of the pile holding on best he can, Cyborg struggles to free itself while Zote recovers. Pulling the thin laser apparatus from a sleeve compartment that was used to destroy the laser weapons inside the guarded ramp, Zote leans down, grabs Cyborg's face and points the small weapon at its good eye.

  Talking to Cyborg in their native machine language, Zote isn't sure the superior being understands or accepts the situation. Never facing defeat before, Cyborg has zero instructions or logic for diplomacy and surrender, unknown actions on Andromeda. "Ve-tun-dah, os-i-be-mi-la," the android says firmly moving the slim laser weapon closer to his eye. As resistance eases once Cyborg recognizes what Zote holds, Beck winces and groans from the heavy, hard bionic frame and weight resting on him.

  "I can't hold on much longer," the bruised officer manages snorting and heaving as beaded blood and sweat trickle off his face and onto the floor. "My arms are almost dead, Zote."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Groom Lake Test Facility, Nevada

  month later several levels below Area-51's main entrance where several dozen of the world's best engineers and scientists live and toil, Director Richard Metz and President Jack Wilford move onto a temporary platform rigged for the special occasion. Inside a massive underground cavern with a long, tall curtain behind the stage, the leaders look out at the impressive, excited group of high performers, most of which are antsy about announcements and coming scientific challenges. As their biggest supporter steps to the podium and greets guests and employees along with members from the Global Space team, Wilford's best reward is thunderous applause, hoots, whistles, and howls. Behind the audience sits the captured multi-level alien spacecraft almost three hundred yards long.

  "I can't believe what's happened during the last several weeks," Wilford starts jovially once calming the audience. "Back there," he points gleefully, "is perhaps the most unbelievable spacecraft one could imagine. In fact, until last month, I never believe
d in UFOs and aliens despite Spock's, Captain Kirk's, and Fox Mulder's best efforts," he chuckles. Once the audience settles, the free world leader continues with a brief introduction. "Last month, there was a distinct chance our beautiful planet was almost lost to these incredible machines. Make no mistake, these Andromedan creatures intended to destroy humanity based on after-action interviews and confiscate this planet. Thanks to Zote and brave members of our wonderful military, many of which are still recovering from severe wounds sustained in their hand-to-hand battle with Cyborg, send best wishes as we pursue the next phase. I'm supposed to pass along a message from Captain Alvin Beck that he and Delta team surviving members are satisfied sitting out the next phase."

  The excited throng again laughs, yells, hoots, howls, and claps for the warriors until Wilford finally settles them down. "For mad scientists, I always figured nerds like you were shy and reserved. I'm now hearing that many of you are anxious to get on with the next logical step. To that end in the next few minutes, a mix of speakers is coming on this stage to greet you and give impressions of what's coming. I won't steal thunder, at least not all of it, but included are two of the most amazing beings I'm happy to say are now on the home team. Dr. Richard Metz, if you would be so kind. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Area-51's pragmatic Director, Leader, and engineer extraordinaire Dr. Richard Metz who will share what's about to happen from his perspective."