The Slug Rebellion

by Matthew Pelly

  Chapter 3 - I shall fall with it

  The Human

  Awkward silence. Someone dared to break it by coughing, which only highlighted just how quiet it was. Most of us just stood there incredulously. Matthew looked around, noticing all the faces; some in shock, some in disbelief and others just blank. As for me, I'd kind of lost feeling to my facial features, and wasn't quite sure what my expression would look like. I mean, come on, what would you say if your friend just announced that they weren't human?

  "Seriously", he went on. "I'm not human. I'm actually from a different planet at" - and now his voice took on a female, robot voice - "insert galactic coordinates, here".

  Another person coughed. Finally, someone yelled, "Stop playing games!"

  "This is no game", Matt sighed. "Don't believe me if you don't want to, but the fact remains that I am an alien."

  The leader of the group interrupted in a strange tone, as if he was speaking a new word. "We have a message for you. From the... king.

  Matthew paused for a second, frowning. Then, "Excellent", he replied. "Let's have it."

  "Bring it", the man ordered to no one in particular. Well, it wasn't really an order, more like a... a request that he knew would be obeyed. In response, one of the group, a woman, pulled out a small device from somewhere. It was only about the size of her palm. Once it got closer to me, I got a better look at it. It was purple (the same colour as Matthew's blood, if I recall) and in the shape of a rough box, except it had a spike, about twenty centimetres, poking out of one side.

  The woman holding the device handed it to Matt, then retreated to the group, linking her hands with theirs again. I wonder what that meant? That they were unified in something?

  Meanwhile, Matthew placed the device carefully and slowly into his hand. His fingers closed around it, obscuring it from my view, and he closed his eyes, deep in concentration.

  He remained in this pose for about half a minute before I ventured a question to the man watching him. "What's happening?" I asked timidly, wondering if this guy had a sword too.

  "You do not know?" he asked curiously. "He did not tell you?"

  "He told me nothing", I pouted, aware that I sounded like a baby. I didn't earn myself a response to that.

  A lot of the crowd had dissipated by this point, going back to lunch. They'd probably put it down to weird people coming to meet the weird kid. A few stayed to watch who appeared to have nothing else to do, or who wanted to see how far he'd take this alien thing. Hadn't classes started by now? That didn't seem to apply to me anymore.

  Soon, Matt appeared finished with his deep praying, or whatever it was he was doing. He handed the device back to the woman, who stepped forward to take it, and who, once it was retrieved, absorbed back into the group of five. None of them had yet uttered a word.

  Then, slowly, and with implied significance, Matthew turned to the leader, who watched him expectantly.

  One word was all he said, but it was evident that this single word contained an essay of importance and potential consequence, perhaps even more than a picture. "No."

  The response was palpable and strangely substantial. The leader - although he faced Matt, I could still see part of his face - didn't change his neutral expression. The look in his eyes didn't change, not that I could read someone's expression from a squishy hole in their head. It was his stance which conveyed his shock. He went, rather noticeably, from a confidant, assured stance to an uncertain, anxious one. I could have been imagining it, but I thought I actually saw him almost stumble.

  "What?" he gasped in the biggest display of emotion I'd yet seen from him. Whatever Matt had said 'No' to must have been important. I contented myself with the fact that he couldn't possibly not explain this to me. Couldn't he?

  There was a dead quiet silence, before Matt repeated, "No."

  Another silence, as dead, if not more dead, than the last. The leader stepped back to touch one of the five - the one closest to him. What was with all this touching? As if they could sense something just by mere touch! After a few seconds of this, the leader stepped towards Matthew, his arm extended again. That super-intelligent section of my mind surfaced again and informed the rest of my mind that he offered his arm to be touched by my friend, similar to their first embrace, as some kind of gesture. After revealing this information, that part subsided back into subconsciousness, leaving the rest of me to confront the next turn of events.

  Matthew had stepped back from his 'old friend', refusing the offer. I had no idea how to interpret this, but the leader seemed to, as he dropped his arm and said, "We must leave now. We were sent here to find you and bring you back."

  After a split second, Matt seemed to have some kind of muscle spasm. He stumbled around, almost collapsing to his knees. His voice was filled with sadness and shame when he said in a small voice, "I cannot do that."

  "What?!" the leader almost yelled, startling me. "We are to return home, immediately!" He seemed to be getting the hang of the whole speech thing, although not in a good way.

  "NO!" shouted Matt, looking up now, newfound courage in his eyes. "I will defend this place. I cannot leave them to die!"

  There was yet another short silence. It was so tense, I wouldn't need a knife, I could probably cut the air with a sheet of paper. And I didn't quite like the sound of being 'left to die'. I was, after all, a part of 'this place'.

  Matthew's shouting opponent, who now showed clear signs of bewilderment, asked quietly, "What have they done for you to do such a thing?"

  "What have they done? They've kept me alive!" Matthew looked up at the sky, pain in his every sound and movement. "They've kept me sane!"

  Wasting no time, the leader retorted, "You are not sane!" This brought him a sharp look from Matt, but he continued. "Your mind had been confused here. You must return with us."

  "No", he stated simply again. "I won't let you. Truly I tell you, if this planet falls, than I shall fall with it!"

  Once again, the leader briefly made physical contact with one of the others before resuming his stance. He stared at Matt in a way that made my friend look like he was already dead. Before he could speak, Matt said, "I do not want to fight you. But I will not allow this world to fall, to do nothing."

  The leader had taken a few steps towards him, closing the distance. He raised his hand and put it on Matt's shoulder. The latter's body completely tensed up, as if he was ready to decide whether to fight or flee. My tensed legs told me I'd already made my decision. Looking closer, I realised that the bigger man's hand was in contact with the bare skin of Matthew's neck; did that mean something? I sure wouldn't like a guy who may or may not kill me touching my neck.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "Very sure", my friend replied.

  With a small huff of defeat, the leader removed his hand, and infuriatingly touched one of the others again - infuriatingly because I didn't know why he did it.

  "Very well", the man said, turning back to Matthew. "We shall stay for now."

  "Good", Matt replied, slightly more light-heartedly now. "Because we're in deep now."

  The Slug

  Awkward silence. Someone in the crowed coughed. Most of them just stood there without saying a word, not believing what I had just said. I looked around, noticing all the faces; some in shock, some in disbelief and others just blank. This was going to require a bit more convincing.

  'Seriously', I said. 'I'm not human. I'm actually from a different planet at' - here I imitated a certain fictional AI - 'insert galactic coordinates, here'.

  Another person coughed. Someone yelled, 'Stop playing games!'

  'This is no game', I sighed. What I initially imagined as a revolutionary, epic reveal of my true nature, I just now understood that absolutely no one would believe me. Next time, I'd better think such a whim through first. 'Don't believe me if you don't want to, but the fact remains that I am an alien.'

  'We have a message for you', my age-old friend spoke, still not used to lan
guage. 'From the... King.' Hmmm. I suppose that, to him, the King is just another name he has to learn. Oh well, learn he will.

  'Excellent. Put him on.'

  'Bring it', he commanded the others. The others. It was hard to believe that I'd actually been found, found alive. No time to dwell on it now though. Later, I would have a lot to teach them about this place. About everything. One of the group, a female in appearance, pulled out a communicator. They hadn't changed much from what I remembered.

  She handed it to me, and I carefully inserted it. It had been so long since I'd done anything like this, the sensation actually felt... strange. Foreign. That's not a good sign.

  I activated it and closed my eyes, blocking out my other senses in order to concentrate. My reunion with my old friend had felt remarkable, doing something I hadn't done in so long, feeling a presence I thought I'd never feel again. I would liken it to a blind person suddenly seeing again, regaining a former sense they once believed lost. The device also instilled this feeling.

  My awe and wonder dissipated, however, when I actually took in the contents of the message. When I actually understood what the King's message meant. What it meant... NO! I cannot! I will not, I absolutely will not allow such a thing to happen! They just don't understand, they don't see all that this place could be! To just leave it... no. Just no. That's... that's it. Just no.

  Slowly, very slowly lest my fury at their ignorance boil out and undermine my cause, I handed the communicator back to the one who gave it to me. Still slowly, trying very hard not to clench my fists, I turned to who I thought was my old friend. I uttered but a single word, yet it was a word which reverberated with great significance and connotations.

  'No.'

  He was taken aback; my defiance was never anticipated. This would only further reinforce their contentions, but it could not be helped.

  'What?' he gasped, surprising me with his facial display of shock. I didn't know how long they been studying this world, but he seemed to be quite adept at emulating its species.

  I waited a few moments to let it sink in, before I repeated, 'No.'

  I was internally shaking, trying my hardest not to let it show, as he paused to confer with the others. The others. At this point, I almost wished I'd never been found. Once he was done there, he reached out his arm to discuss with me in private. I stepped back from him. If he planned to doom this world, he could at least let everyone know it.

  So he dropped his arm and spoke. 'We must leave now. We were sent here to find you and bring you back.'

  The full import of what he said hit me like a sentence spoken with great import. I almost lost control of my legs, near falling to the ground, I was so absorbed in what was happening. He'd practically told me it was a direct order from the King that I leave. That I leave the Earth to its own devices. Orders are not disobeyed; none could question the authority and wisdom of the King. I thought of this planet, at all I would have to leave. And leave I would; choice was not a factor in this.

  Then I thought of Ethan, lacking the courage to actually face him, and what he would think of this. He might believe that I wilted under another's command, that I lacked the spirit to fight. No. I won't.

  Although it caused me great pain, I suddenly knew that I could question the authority and wisdom of the King. And question it I would.

  I spoke, knowing that the words were unprecedented, 'I cannot do that.'

  'What?!' he repeated, much more aghast now. I know I would be, were the situation reversed. He near yelled at me, astonished by my lack of respect, 'We are to return home, immediately!'

  'NO!' I shouted, looking up at him in defiance. I wanted to say that the place he spoke of was no longer any home of mine, but that would've gone too far. So I left it at, 'I will defend this place. I cannot leave them to die!'

  Utterly flabbergasted by my actions, actions which had never been done before in anyone's memory, the person who I thought was my friend asked me quietly, 'What have they done for you to do such a thing?'

  To do such a thing. As if what I did was a revolt, a rebellion, when I only wished to fight for what I believed in. Humans understand this concept; it is not very difficult to understand.

  'What have they done?' I asked, insulted by his ignorance. 'They've kept me alive!' I looked up, towards where I'd always thought my home was, only now realising that I'd been standing on it this whole time. I should have been looking down. I continued, 'They've kept me sane!'

  Quickly, he answered, 'You are not sane!' I knew what he meant, what he implied. That they hadn't kept me sane, because I was not sane. No sane one of us would rebel against the King, and none had ever rebelled against the King; I was the first insane Slug. But I knew that, were it not for Earth, I would be much worse than I am now. He continued, 'Your mind has been confused here. You must return with us.'

  My mind has been confused. Indeed it has; it has been confused as to who truly deserves my loyalty. 'No', I repeated. 'I won't let you. Truly I tell you, if this planet falls, than I shall fall with it!'

  He conferred with the others, then faced me again. I prepared myself for battle. Surely, I would lose, right here and now. Killed by my own people, on my own world. A disHonourable end compared to a glorious fight that should have killed me long ago...

  'I don't want to fight you', I warned him. 'But I will not allow this world to fall, to do nothing.'

  He stepped towards me and placed his hand on my shoulder. I got ready to grasp his arm and try to throw him off me. The first incapacitating blow often decides the outcome. Of course, once the others joined in... No matter. I would go out fighting.

  But no. My not-friend, who perhaps contained some part of my friend still in him, touched my bare neck with his hand. Quickly, I communicated with him as much as I could to persuade him to not fight me. What I didn't tell him was that I didn't want to perhaps kill him, but the real reason was that I didn't want to die... Yes, he was right. I am no longer sane.

  'Are you sure?' he asked me carefully, after I'd shown him my unwavering dedication.

  'Very sure', I answered confidently.

  He breathed out, and went back to the others, to spread his decision. 'Very well', he said, turning back to me. I prepared myself for death. Hopefully Ethan would be alright on his own. 'We shall stay for now.'

  What I felt right now could not be described in Human words. I doubted it could be described at all. So all I could answer was, 'Good.' I actually almost smiled, until I thought of the message. 'Because we're in deep now.'

  The Human

  By now I'd really had enough of not understanding a thing that was going on, so I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Will someone please tell me what is going on?"

  Matt and the six strangers all looked at me, the latter with degrading looks on their faces, like I was some kind of inferior creature. "Oh, yes", Matthew said after a second of silence. "Everyone, this is my friend, Ethan. Wait, I said that. Ethan, this is..." He looked at the leader. "You need to pick a name".

  He thought for a second, then replied with, "Boy."

  "Boy?" Matthew asked.

  "Yes, Boy. I am a young human male."

  "Well, technically, but... that's true, yeah... OK, Boy it is then. Ethan, this is Boy."

  I stared at him. "Your name is... Boy?"

  "Yes. And your name is Ethan."

  We stared at each other. "Ethan", Matthew started. "Come with me for a second. Wait here... Boy."

  He took me into one of the smaller, empty classrooms, and we both sat down. Taking a deep breath, he began: "Ethan, you would believe me right? That I am telling you the truth?"

  "Umm, yes."

  "Good. Because you see, I am an alien. You may find that hard to believe, but just humour me and you will see."

  I doubted that. "OK, so you're an alien. I find it rather strange that an alien looks exactly like a human."

  "Ah, well that, you see, requires some explanation. My race is pretty much a shape-shifting one. W
ell, we don't go around turning into whatever we want, we can just mould our bodies to suit our needs, slowly. My need for the past couple of decades has been to fit into your world, so with a great deal of effort, I transformed my body to appear to be human. It wasn't easy, mind you, what to change my digestive system to eat your food, obtain exterior organs to appear human... it took a long time to get it right."

  "OK... How long have you been here, exactly?" I didn't stop to consider why I was actually going along with this. After all, I was 'humouring' him.

  "This year is actually my twentieth anniversary of arriving here. As you probably noticed, however, I am a middle-aged teenager - or at least appear and claim to be a middle-aged teenager - and that is because I spent my first three years meditating, trying to mould my body."

  I stared at him, only one thing on my mind. "Wait, you're not going to like, fall in love with me or something, are you?"

  Matthew burst out laughing, "I'm an alien, not a vampire!" I laughed a bit with him, and he added, "Besides, I couldn't even if I... but never mind about that for now."

  Good. With that out of my system, I could relax a bit more. "OK. So your friends - and Boy - look human too. Have they had to meditate?"

  "No. Unlike me, they have some cool technology to change themselves in a matter of hours or days. I did everything with nothing but willpower and perseverance."

  The door opened, and Boy and the five others walked in. "Matthew", Boy said to him, then gesturing to the others, one-by-one, he continued: "After consulting one of your 'name books', they have chosen William, Carmen, Jason, Frank and Rosetta. After discovering that 'Boy' is not a standard name, I have revised my designation to 'Garry'."

  "Wow", Matt said, "you are so not a Garry. Stick with Boy, OK?"

  Boy-slash-Garry nodded.

  "Our objective was to find this one", Jason, a black man, said. It was the first time I'd heard any of them talk individually. He spoke strangely, as if english was a foreign language. Which it was. Their language was probably some supersonic, alien speak indecipherable to human ears. Assuming, of course, that I'm humouring Matt.

  By now, some students had begun drifting into the big classroom too, to hear what was going on.

  "So, assuming that you are from an alien race, what are you called?" I asked Matt. I had to call them something.

  "Technically, we do not have a name. However, in all my time here, I have thought up names for everything in our lives. We are now called the Slugs." I stared at him a bit. "Due to our nature", he offered me, as if that explained naming your entire race after a homeless snail.

  "There is something I do not know", Boy asked now. "How did you change on your own without the necessary equipment? How can the technology here do that?"

  Matthew turned to me and said, "Back at our planet, we have things I've decided to call mental blocks. A mental block is a small device we place in our body, usually near our brain, to keep our shape in a specific form. It pretty much replicates signals that our brain would consciously send, but sends it nonstop. These messages are continuously sent to the relevant parts of our body, kind of like your brain constantly telling your heart to beat. For example, Boy would be using one to keep the shape of his face, so that he doesn't have to waste concentration on doing it manually. That is, following this example, Boy right now has a device in his body, continuously sending replica brain signals to his face to stay in the shape that it is now.

  "It is an advanced technology, since it has to fool your body into thinking that the orders came from your brain. Therefore, it's impossible to make one without the correct equipment. When I arrived at Earth, I had no such equipment." He turned back to Boy, and replied: "Humans don't have the necessary technology, and I cannot create my own. So, I am not using any mental blocks."

  Boy just stood there, staring at him. "Please repeat that", he asked.

  "I am not using any mental blocks."

  "So you mean to tell me that all the time, even as we speak, you are consciously sending signals to tell your body to keep its shape?"

  "Yes."

  "That is impossible!" Boy said, rather loudly. "How are you doing that? No one can keep the concentration to achieve such a feat!"

  "No one ever had a good enough reason to", Matthew responded calmly, shrugging. "Besides, you get used to it. Becomes second-nature, like breathing." Boy didn't reply, and I had the impression that he wanted to shake his head in disbelief.

  I was considering joining him (who wouldn't be?), when another thought occurred to me. "How can you speak english?" I asked of any of them. "Don't you have some hyper-advanced language with a billion words that our ears can't hear?"

  "Actually, we do not." It was Boy who responded. "This is one of the things that makes you humans unique. We had never before recognised that there was a whole experience of sound, everywhere, an entire other sense that we never registered."

  "Umm..." was all I could say to that. “I'm not sure that answers the question..."

  "What he's trying to say", Matt butted in, before I got myself near beat up again, "is that we don't have a 'hyper-advanced' language because we don't have a language. In our actual forms, we don't even have ears, or any other means of hearing. We are completely deaf. Only after I came to this world did I discover that there was such a thing as sound. That is why nothing in our world has a name, forcing me to come up with everything."

  "Wait, you can't hear? Then how do you communicate and talk?" What kind of aliens were these? They were supposed to have like eight senses, not one less!

  "Remember when my five friends here were holding hands?" He nodded in their direction. They still were, actually. "That is how we communicate; through contact. I'll explain it some time." Aha, so it was significant! I remembered when Matthew first met Boy, in the school-yard, when they'd embraced each other in that large handshake. They'd held that pose for a while; communicating somehow, it seems.

  "So, if you're completely deaf", I mused, "how is it that just because you came here, all of a sudden you could hear."

  "Well, I didn't know for a while. You humans seemed to have some form of long-range communication, which at first I thought was movement. As in, movement of the mouth. After a while, however, I deduced that there must be something more to it, and soon after I discovered this thing called sound. Then it was a simple matter of moulding ears for myself. I can't really explain anymore without going into a lot more detail."

  "OK then", I replied, pretending that the fact that he just chose to have ears, and then he had them, wasn't strange at all. I couldn't think of anything else to say, or ask. But then an event of importance decided to come to the forefront of my memory. "What was in that message thingie that you got?"

  "That", answered Jason, before Matt could get a chance, "was a warning of the destruction of your planet."

  That brought about an awkward silence that had to be seen to be believed. Which was understandable, seeing as how he'd just told me was planet was about to be destroyed. "Don't worry", Matthew assured me. "We still have a while. Ethan, come with me, there's someone else I want you to meet."

  "Someone else?" I complained. Judging by his other friends, this new person should be a delight. "Has he got a weird name too?" I didn't see Boy's reaction to that, and didn't really want to either.

  "It depends on which name you use", Matthew explained. "He insists that his name is C-Y-dash-4-3-8-4-colon-G. But I call him Phill."

  The Cyborg

  Time. It passes, always passes, never ceasing for anyone, anything. Both a friend and an enemy. I once had an enemy, but now when I contemplate them, I don't understand what made them my enemy. I understand why time is my enemy, my only remaining enemy, although it doesn't consider me one. I am ignored in its relentless, remorseless, undefeatable advance.

  Of course, there are ways to measure time; but the measurement of time is not the mastery of time. Measurement is merely understanding, nothing more.

  My only indication of
time's unstoppable passage is through the reflection of visible light in the body of liquid water at the entrance to my prison. It glows and fades in accordance to this world's rotation cycle. By that measure, I have been here 7,503 rotations. That is, however, in respect to this planet. That number holds no significance to me, due to my inability. My inability to calculate time.

  Have I been here a long time? I may never know. Perhaps, for this world, 7,503 rotations is insignificant, not worthy of mention. I can deduce that the resident life of this planet has not discovered my presence yet. Due to ignorance, or am I not worth discovering to them? They will find me eventually, however. With time. Always with time.

  I remember the one who put me here, my previous enemy who brought me to this place, who destroyed and restrained me. I will never forget that one, not even with time. Surprisingly, it returned after 3,847 rotations to make adjustments and place a small device at the prison entrance, where it would be bathed in starlight every rotation of the planet. It expelled strange vibrations, meant to mean something, that at first I could not interpret. Now I know that it is the primitive communication system of this world, slow and inefficient. I learnt it, although it took time.

  Not that it matters. It will never be of use to me. Eventually, I will end here. My future is assured; the only variable left is time.

  The Human

  "Since when did you learn to drive? And where did you get a car?" I asked Matt as he drove us down a country highway later on that day, late afternoon in fact.

  He gave me a funny look, and replied, "The car is stolen, but I'll return it. And if I can alter the shape and function of my body through nothing but sheer willpower, then I am definitely capable of learning to drive an automobile." That conversation stopped there.

  "Soo...", I began.

  "You know, you start a lot of sentences with 'Soo...' " he told me before I could continue.

  "It's a good starter when you're about to ask a weird question", I explained.

  "OK then, ask away."

  "How exactly do you... communicate through contact?"

  "Well. Hmmm. First off let's say that our brains are more powerful than yours. Not that we're hyper-intelligent, transdimensional beings or something, but that our minds can send a signal with a far greater output. One of the things that we Slugs can do is consciously manoeuvre these brain signals around our bodies. Where the communication comes into it, is we can actually transfer these electrical signals across bodies through physical contact."

  "Wait, so you mean that you can send a brain signal into another Slug's body?"

  "Exactly. We can send a thought, feeling or idea into someone else's body, and they take it to their brain and register it. So, say I think that we should try... throwing a hula hoop, for example. A random example, but an example nonetheless. First, my brain converts this idea into an electrical signal. Then, via a physical connection with Boy, I transfer this signal to the extremities of my body - such as my hand - and the extremities of his body picks it up. He is now in control of the signal, and sends it to his brain and interprets it. Understand?"

  "Kind of. So that's what you were doing when you were shaking Boy's hand for so long."

  He smiled amusingly. "Indeed."

  I was quiet for a minute, trying to process this. "Doesn't that mean you can send body controls and control his body?"

  "No", he answered, "because once the signal leaves your body you no longer control where it goes. It will never reach the part you want to control because the subject doesn't let it reach there."

  "Cool", I replied.

  But Matt wasn't finished. "However, whenever you send a signal, it is also filled with other information you didn't want to send. After all, you can't really restrict the electrical output of your brain to a single concept. All you can do is highlight - or amplify - the signal that you do want to send. Things such as whatever else you happened to be thinking at the time you made the signal can also be communicated, although in a diminished and normally unreadable form. If you're really good you can access this information, despite its nature, and interpret it."

  "Can you do that?"

  He was silent for a moment. "I haven't tried."

  We didn't speak for a time, before I asked, "What's it like?"

  "What's what like?"

  "Communicating like that. What does it feel like?"

  He pondered for a bit. "It's almost like another sense. In fact, it is another sense, meaning that we have four senses."

  I interrupted, "Don't you have five?"

  "What?"

  "You can't hear so that's four. But you have this, so you have five senses."

  "Ahh", he said. "Actually, we can't taste either."

  I didn't have any reply to that. "Oh, I have a good example, back to the communication", he went on. "Ready?" I nodded, even though he probably couldn't see me since he was busy driving a stolen car. "Imagine an elephant. Bam, you just imagined an elephant, didn't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Now imagine that you didn't actually imagine one, but that I'd sent one over to you, and once it reached your brain, that is what you saw."

  "So you're saying that you sending me a picture of an elephant feels just like me thinking of what an elephant looks like?"

  "Not exactly, but close enough. Obviously, I can't explain a sense to someone who doesn't have it - can you explain sight? - but that's the gist of it."

  "That's pretty cool", I answered, "but I still think I'd prefer speech. And taste."

  He didn't answer, and we didn't talk for a while as I pondered this over. Soon, he quietly said, "We're here."

  We exited the car, and I just realised that we were off the road, in some sandy place. It looked like the Outback, but then again, any place without buildings looks like the Outback to me. Matthew led me to a natural-looking cave carved inside a rock formation. I heard noise trickling from within.

  "So, what's this Phill like?"

  "Don't know. I haven't spoken to him in quite some time. Quite some time indeed."

  We entered the cave, where there was a small radio, with a big square solar panel on top and a large antennae poking out, playing an old country song.

  "That radio has been there for many years", he told me as we stepped over a large puddle with water dripping into it.

  As we continued deeper inside the cave, the song from the radio following us, I had daydreams of an earthquake closing the entrance with rubble. I stuck close to Matt. Without even the decency to warn us, the tunnel opened into a chasm, roughly circular and about five metres in diameter. There was rock on all sides, except the tunnel we just entered in. But at the end of the chasm, opposite the entrance, was a... person. A humanoid figure, sitting against the wall.

  No, he wasn't just sitting, he was... tied up. Huge cables were wrapped around his body, covering most of his body except his head, restraining him against the wall of the cave. It looked as though he could barely wriggle, the cables were so tight. As we got closer, I saw that the restraining cables went straight into the rock face. Those wouldn't be moving any time soon. Due to my high level of intelligence, I soon realised that this CY-4384:G character wasn't an ordinary person, and not just due to his name. He wore no clothes, a good enough excuse on its own for a not-ordinary person, and his skin wasn't quite the right colour. It was just too... grey. Now I really stuck behind Matthew as he approached it.

  "Hello, old friend", he announced to the figure. If it heard him, it made no movement. "How's life going? Getting pretty good I imagine. Down here all alone, no worries, care-free."

  The thing lifted its head and looked at Matt with a frighteningly familiar passive expression. "It is you."

  "So it is."

  "And you brought a native." He turned his gaze to me in an uninterested way. I suppose he was right, but it felt very weird being called a 'native'.

  "I did."

  "Are you here to finish what you started?"

  "On the contrary, I come wi
th a proposition. One that just may see you freed from this prison."

  It paused for a split-second. "Now you offer to free me?"

  "Now I have a reason to."

  It paused for a few seconds now, thinking. "Your proposition?"

  "Of course. An excavation ship of yours is coming to mine this planet. I need - want - your help to stop it."

  I didn't know what an 'excavation ship' was, but I didn't like the sound of it mining my planet. Unfortunately, I figured that now wasn't the time to ask, so I said nothing.

  "You ask me to betray my species?" it asked.

  "You're not a species. And they betrayed you. How long have you been here?"

  "Seven thousand, five hundred and three rotations." Rotations?

  "They're called 'days'."

  "Seven thousand, five hundred and three days", it amended. Oh. Wait, what?

  "Exactly. And they haven't even bothered to look for you. My people came looking for me straight away." Matthew's voice changed a bit when he said that.

  "So you want my help to defend this world?" it continued.

  "Yes. In exchange for your freedom."

  "Perhaps."

  "Please don't take seven and a half million years."

  It looked at him. "Excuse me?"

  "Never mind. Will you help or not?"

  It paused for a couple of seconds. "You will free me? And you won't restrain me again once we're done?"

  "Yes, as long as you stick to your word and help us."

  "Very well. We have an agreement."

  Matthew went to untie the man triumphantly, and turned to look at me.

  "Ethan, this is Phill."

  After an extremely brief argument (as in, two sentences) in the car on the way back, and after it had gotten into some clothing that Matthew had brought without my knowledge, the thing finally agreed to be called 'Phill' instead of its preferred designation of CY-4384:G. Matt had complained that that sounded 'lame and clichéd'. He also told me that this thing was his 'ancient enemy', the same one that was en route to Earth.

  "Wait, so Phill's friends are coming to destroy my planet?" I asked, stunned.

  Phill responded quickly, "They are not my friends, but simply fellow members of my race."

  "Don't kid yourself, Phill", Matthew said, rather rudely. "You are not a race, you are a thing."

  Ignoring that, the 'thing' turned to me. "I imagine you have some questions for me, as you are an as-yet underdeveloped species barely capable of space flight."

  "We're getting there", I said defensively. But I had more important things to do than take offence. "So, you are a different race to the Slugs?"

  "They're not a race", Matt repeated.

  "Yes", Phill replied. "Why do you query?"

  I summed up all of my scepticism, which as you can imagine was quite a bit. "I find it very hard to believe that not only are there two different alien species out there, but both of them look human, and speak english!"

  Phill responded, "I'm sure this one has explained to you their rather annoying shifting tendencies. As for us, we have determined that the basic humanoid form is the best suited for a variety of purposes, and as such, all of our generic units appear this way. I appear exactly human thanks to... this one's trips to alter my appearance."

  "In case I ever needed it", Matt defended himself. "And, of course, I thought it would be cool."

  I was amazed. "And the english?"

  "Well", Matthew offered, "Contrary to every movie out there, I actually crash-landed here in Australia. So it was only natural that I learned english. And I inadvertently taught Phill to speak it as well."

  "I suppose that makes sense", I mused, but he didn't respond, or didn't hear me. "So", I addressed Phill, "what cool abilities do you have? Can you shape-shift too?"

  "No. Our forms are only altered when we are created, as technically, we are not a form of organic life. I imagine you will liken us to your popular motion-picture, 'The Terminator', and its sequels."

  "Wait... So you're telling me that you guys are all machines?"

  "I call them Cyborgs", Matthew offered. "Cause it sounds cooler than 'ohhhhh, the machines are coming!' "He paused for a second. “By the way, Phill, my race is called the Slugs."

  He didn't respond. As for me, this was starting to get beyond my head. "And why exactly do you want to destroy my planet?"

  "We don't want to destroy it", the Cyborg replied. "It is just a valuable source of resources to aid us in our efforts against these... Slugs."

  "See, no sense of principle", Matthew complained. I sensed that he was going through a lot of effort to give me a negative impression of this Phill. "We never mine worlds with any form of detectable life on it. When the Cyborgs find a planet they want, anything not strong enough to resist is killed. That's probably how this war started, though no one knows for sure."

  "How long has it been going on for?"

  "No one knows for sure."

  Phill did though: "In what measure?"

  "What?"

  "In what measure of time would you like to know how old our war is?"

  "Umm... Years. Earth years."

  "Approximately twelve thousand, four hundred and seventy-six Earth years, although this figure does not take into account the slight variation in the axial orbit of..."

  I'd stopped listening by now. "Twelve thousand years... How could anyone stand to be at war for so long?"

  "The Slugs do not keep history records", Matthew began, "so we have no idea how the war started, nor how long it's been going, and I'm a bit reluctant to accept the word of this thing. Who knows what's happened to his memory?"

  "You don't keep history records?" I asked, amazed yet again. I remembered what they'd drilled into my head at all the history things I'd ever been to: "How can you prevent the mistakes of the past happening again in the future without the knowledge of history?"

  Matthew just looked at me. "Fifty thousand years ago, you were a bunch of territorial tribes fighting each other for land and wealth. Now, you're a bunch of territorial countries fighting each other for land and wealth. How's keeping history working out for you?"

  I had no answer to that, so I just kept silent until he looked away. Trying to change the subject, I quickly asked Phill, "How did you get here, and what were you doing in that cave?"

  He answered, "Approximately seven thousand, five hundred and three days ago, I intercepted a Slug ship nearby this planet. As I had the first strike, the battle was already a victory. However, this ship happened to contain this particular Slug. This Matthew - although he wasn't known by any designation at the time - boarded my vessel before I could stop him, defeated me in physical combat, and brought me to this world with him. Whilst he chose to blend in with the native life in order to survive, I was confined to that formation. Eventually, after approximately three thousand, eight hundred and forty-seven days, Matthew demonstrated some mercy and supplied me with a small radiowave device, which I used to learn this language. He also supplied me with extensive parts to pass me off as an acceptable human, although I couldn't fathom why at the time."

  "So", I asked Matt, not wanting to leave him out of the conversation, "You defeated Phill and condemned him to a fate worse than yourself."

  "Pretty much. He's the one who condemned me, so I ensured that he had it worse off."

  "A decision you now seem to have profited from", Phill mused, if machines could muse.

  "Yes", Matthew answered slowly.

  "Have you told Boy about this?" I asked.

  "Nope, and he's not gonna be happy. But I'll convince him that we need every opportunity we can get if we're to defend this planet."

  "You did what?!" Boy all but yelled. Despite his words, his face only betrayed slight phases of anger. Perhaps he hadn't learned to control it yet? But either way, he wasn't happy at all.

  "Look, it's our best chance to survive this assault", Matthew explained calmly. "Think logically."

  Boy was silent, unable to say any
thing. Eventually he just began shaking his head.

  Victorious, Matthew turned and announced to Phill, "To the war room!" meaning an empty classroom. Although it was a weekend, it was way after school hours, so the school was completely empty. We had the place to ourselves. Matt and Phill entered the room, but Boy stayed back with me. "I'm not going in there with that", he said.

  "He's not that bad, once you get to know him", I offered, but that didn't seem to help.

  "It's not that bad, you should have said."

  "Yeah." Now there was an awkward pause, as we each though of what to say. I thought I'd bring up something that might interest him. "So tell me, how does a Cyborg mining ship pose such a huge threat? What do they have, drills?"

  The Slug thought for a bit. "Our mining ships are not like yours. Like us, the Cyborgs are a race devoted to war. Every aspect of our existence is about fighting and winning. This is the case when you've been waging a war longer than your collective memory. Due to this, everything in our society is outfitted for battle. From our scouting ships to our transport ships, each is war-capable with weapons and defences. Obviously they are not as powerful as our main attack ships, but they are still formidable. A Cyborg mining ship however; those are designed to crush any local resistance they find on their designated planets. This is more than enough to wipe out a species not yet capable of spaceflight."

  "We are capable of spaceflight", I complained. "We're not primitive monkeys, you know."

  "Of course you are not monkeys, you are humans." Boy looked confused at my statement, which caused me to wonder if he knew about evolution.

  "What I mean is, we are not as low-tech as you seem to think. I'm sure we could organise a space attack if we needed to."

  "Perhaps you could. But not enough to defeat a Cyborg mining ship. Remember, they are made to kill most of the life on a planet, or at least the only life capable of resistance. You will need our help... although I don't think we will need that Cyborg's." He paused for a second. "Now you tell me something. I have been meaning to ask Matthew, but he is always busy. I understand that you humans seem to have two distinct appearances; one larger and more muscular, and the other with longer scalp hair and slighter form. Each variation even comes with its own specific set of names. I have chosen the muscular form, as it appears to be more formidable, but have instructed Carmen and Rosetta to pick the latter in the event that they play some vital role. Is there any important difference between the two? I have not been able to find any imperative distinction between them."

  "Ahh, there is a big difference, much more than mere appearance." This was going to be an awkward conversation. "As you can see, despite my non-muscular body, I am a male. You, umm, Frank and what's-his-face are also male."

  "Who is 'what's-his-face'?"

  "The other male with you. The dark-skinned one."

  "Jason."

  "Yes, Jason. He is also male, as is Matthew. Now females, they are completely different. They dress differently, they age differently, they mature differently, they think differently. Pretty much the only thing they have in common with us is that they're human."

  "I do not understand what the use of humans having two distinct parts is. What benefit does it bring?"

  "Uhhh... how do you Slugs reproduce?"

  "You mean how do we create new Slugs?" I nodded. "We extract portions of selected Slug's inner flesh - Matthew calls it slime - and insert a mixture of the desired proportions into a sophisticated machine. New Slugs are created, extracted from the machine, then taught our ways and taught to fight."

  "You mean you're all test-tube babies?" I asked him, near-horrified.

  Boy looked at me. "We are born from combined extracts of slime. How are humans born?"

  "We reproduce in a much more... organic way. No machines involved. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that humans have two parents, one male and one female. Together, they make a foetus, and the female carries this foetus as it grows. Eventually, the foetus finishes growing, and there is a full baby human inside of the female. This baby is then born out of the female and into the world. And that's how we're born."

  Boy stood there, looking at me incredulously. "Are you trying to tell me that new humans are grown inside adult humans?"

  "Yes."

  It was his turn to be horrified. "That is disgusting! What kind of race are you to do such horrific things? Our births are ethical, we don't mutilate our own to propagate our species! Imagine all the things that could go wrong with such an unnatural arrangement!"

  "It's not mutilation, it is natural!", I protested. "Better than being born in test-tubes!" But it gave me cause to think. Before I could seriously question the validity of the human reproductive system, I decided to change the subject; "So, what do you think of Matt?"

  He seemed to become friendly again pretty quickly. "If you mean Matthew, then he is a very old friend of mine. Those many years ago, when we stopped receiving signals from his ship, all believed him dead, and that he died with honour. But I suspected that he was far too experienced from surviving battles his entire life to just die without any warning. I have spent this entire time coming for him... And now that I have found him, we are probably all going to die."

  "Great."

  "It may be so." He paused for a second. "Matthew has taken a great liking to you, if you did not know. I wonder if, when this is all over, and if we survive, he will leave Earth and return to our home. He may actually want to stay here. You must know he is not exactly normal anymore, like the rest of us."

  I pondered: would he actually do that? Turn his back on his whole species just to stay with me? I doubted it. I'm not sure if I'd do that for him. And about him not being normal; sure he was a bit strange, but I'd never thought he wasn't normal. I had no more time to think about it, however, as Matthew and Phill emerged from the 'war room'.

  "I have good news and bad news", Matt announced to us. "Phill still remembers the schematics of Cyborg mining ships - or what they were twenty years ago - and he says they are unlikely to have changed. So if we need to board one, it should be much easier. By the way, that was the good news."

  "And the bad news?" Boy and I asked in unison. We glanced at each other.

  "Ahh, the bad news", Matthew seemed to say to himself, "is that I have a brilliant idea." Boy and I glanced at each other again. "My idea is - get this - I am going to announce my presence to the humans."