by M. E. Castle
“Wait! Wait!” Fisher said, running up to the leader of the guards. “Please don’t agitate them. They … they don’t take it well.”
“We saw the explosion,” the guard said coolly, his eyes not moving from the aliens for even an instant. “I’d say how they’ve acted so far gives us every reason to believe they’re hostile.”
The scientists had poured in through the breach and were gathering in a loose half circle behind the guards, chattering among themselves and calibrating various handheld instruments. Still, Fisher didn’t see his parents. Where were they?
One of the guards grabbed Fisher by the arm; another one grabbed Alex. The Gemini glow became more intense, along with the crackle sound. The area was bathed in their light, which strobed slowly and menacingly.
“Stop!” Fisher shouted. He managed to shake free of the huge man’s grasp. “They’re not hostile. They think you’re trying to hurt us. They’re trying to protect us.”
“Fisher,” Veronica whispered harshly. She didn’t look exceptionally pleased that Fisher was defending extraterrestrial beings whose chief method of debate seemed to be self-detonation.
“Nobody was badly hurt in the explosion,” Alex said, fighting his way out of the other guard’s grip. “Well … no humans, at least.” He looked again at the sooty spot that had been Ingrid and Jeanne. “The aliens have a … some kind of natural defense mechanism. They thought we were in trouble.”
Amanda glared at him.
The guards paused, exchanging bewildered glances, clearly unsure how to proceed.
“Stand down, Sergeant,” said a calm, familiar voice. The sergeant lowered his weapon and stepped back, gesturing for his men to do the same, as Fisher’s parents stepped forward between them.
In that moment, Fisher was reminded that his mom and dad weren’t just his mom and dad. They were titans of the scientific community. Helen Bas wore her long white lab coat like a knight’s armor. Fisher could practically see Walter Bas’s incredible mind humming along at speeds most people couldn’t imagine. The rest of the scientists treated them like nobility.
“Mom!” said Alex and Fisher. Fisher was incredibly relieved to see that his parents were here, and all right. At the same time, he felt a pinch of dread: they’d been busted, pure and simple. He raced to come up with an excuse. Maybe he could say he rushed here to warn them of something. A sudden outbreak of reactivated Fisher-bots? The home lab was on fire? Paul had accidentally hugged the lever that released Mr. Bas’s semi-intelligent plastic-eating ants into the wild?
But Mrs. Bas looked right past Alex and Fisher and beamed at the Gemini. As the guards backed off, the glow from the aliens dimmed and went out, and the crackling softened and finally went silent.
“This is a monumental event, boys,” Mrs. Bas said in a trembling voice, putting a hand on each son’s shoulders. “We’ve made first contact with a highly advanced extraterrestrial species. You realize this moment will be taught in history classes for the rest of human civilization?”
Fisher exhaled. Of course, now that he thought about it, his act of minor trespassing had no significance next to the arrival of the Gemini. He just hoped the people who wrote those history books would spice up his dialogue a bit, and maybe give him more to say than “uh.” He could already imagine the moment immortalized as a painted tableau: the Gemini, Fisher and Alex, the Bas parents; scientists and engineers with testing apparatuses buzzing; FP trying to nuzzle Warren awake.
Maybe, Fisher thought, the Vikings could be deleted from the scene. Currently, an EMT was treating them for their cuts and bruises. Fisher wondered whether the incident would finally teach them something about how approaching every situation by yelling at it can and will end badly. He wondered this for about two and a half seconds before remembering that the Vikings did not learn anything, ever.
“This has gone even better than we planned,” Mrs. Bas went on.
“Planned?” squawked Alex and Fisher simultaneously.
Mrs. Bas smiled. “Astronomers have been tracking their ship for months. We suspect they’ve been in the solar system dozens of times, studying Earth, and us. However, they made no response to radio contact, so we designed something more advanced.”
Fisher’s jaw dropped like a bowling ball through tissue paper.
“The M3,” Alex breathed.
“Mega Mars Madness is just a cover name,” said Mr. Bas. “Its real name is the Magnetic Modulation Mechanism. The operation of the coaster creates a detectable ripple in Earth’s magnetic field. We hoped it would be a sign to the ship that humanity was ready for interstellar contact. And it seems to have worked, if a little early. Today was a day to check and calibrate the systems. The big day was planned for next week.”
So that was the signal that the Gemini had referred to.
Fisher gazed at his parents wonderingly. They’d been tracking an alien spacecraft for months and he’d had no idea. It must have been unbearable for them to keep from telling him.
His parents moved closer to the Gemini. The crowd unconsciously inched backward, as though worried about another explosion, but both Bas parents seemed entirely at ease.
“As the creators of the Magnetic Modulation Mechanism, the instrument that signaled our readiness to meet you, we’d like to formally welcome you to Earth,” said Mrs. Bas to Anna and Bee. The two aliens turned to regard Fisher’s parents with their vibrant green eyes, their expressions unreadable.
“Your engineering work is excellent,” Bee said. Her voice was much flatter than it had been before, much more formal. “We regret that our landing telemetry had a slight inaccuracy and our ship caused damage.”
“Damage” was a bit understated. What had been the Magnetic Modulation Mechanism looked like an abstract sculpture built by hurling the chopped-up pieces of a skyscraper out of planes. The perfect lawns and flawlessly polished rides surrounding it only emphasized how utterly demolished it was.
“It can be rebuilt,” said Mrs. Bas. “What matters is that it worked.” She paused and took Anna’s hand in her own, giving it a motherly squeeze. Anna gave Mrs. Bas’s hand a confused look. “Imagine what we can learn from one another,” Mrs. Bas continued with a sincere smile.
“Yes,” said Anna. “We wish to begin an exchange with your two diplomats promptly.” She indicated Fisher and Alex.
Mr. and Mrs. Bas glanced at each other.
“Well,” Mrs. Bas said, “diplomats may be a bit of an exaggeration.”
“That is how we are prepared to work,” Bee said. She and Anna crossed their arms. “Now that we have established contact, it would be an unnecessary hitch in the process if someone else took their place.”
The Gemini looked stern.
“And this ‘exchange.’ An exchange of what, exactly?” Amanda said, raising an eyebrow.
“Knowledge,” said Anna. “Information, history, culture. We, of course, have years of data about you. But there are many questions that only a face-to-face discussion can properly answer.”
“Of course,” Veronica said, narrowing her eyes. “Face-to-face.”
It was increasingly obvious to Fisher that neither Veronica nor Amanda were fans of the female extraterrestrials. Fisher had just stopped World War III from happening. He wasn’t ready for it to begin again.
“That sounds great,” Fisher said. “But”—he hurried on, in response to a glance from Veronica, to whom he was after all very loyal—“as much as I’d like to be the head of an interstellar conference, well … we have to go to school.”
“School,” said Bee instantly, tilting her head, a motion Anna copied exactly. “An institution of learning, the place where young human spawn are fashioned into adults. We can think of no better place to begin further study of your kind.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Mr. Bas said. “A school is a busy, unsterile, and unpredictable environment; it might be bewildering or even dangerous for you.”
“I don’t know,” Fisher said, spirals of technological
possibilities from contact with aliens twirling through his mind. “I think that could be a really good idea. They know about our culture, they speak our language, and they don’t seem vulnerable to Earth bacteria. Letting them learn in our fully human environment might be the best idea!”
“As exciting as that sounds,” Mr. Bas, “it still sounds risky. I think it would make more sense to study them more before we allow them to fully integrate into a situation like that.”
Anna and Bee stared at Mr. Bas for an uncomfortably large number of seconds. They crossed their arms, exactly mirroring the pose of a teenage girl determined to go out on a Saturday night with her friends.
In perfect synch, all of the other Gemini crossed their arms, too.
“We will attend your school,” Anna stated flatly.
“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Bas said, “for your own safety, that really isn’t a good … er …” The Gemini had started to glow again. A sound like the beginning of a forest fire filled the air.
“We will attend your school,” Bee said.
“Could …” Mrs. Bas said, “could we maybe discuss this in more detail elsewhe—”
“DOWN!” Amanda screamed, and dove, tackling Warren to the ground, as Ellie and Fae turned into a cloud of superheated vapor. In a second, their long limbs and radiant red hair turned into green explosive goop. Veronica ducked. Mr. and Mrs. Bas grabbed Fisher and Alex and pulled them both to the ground. Screams went up from the crowd.
FP barely managed to take wing and fly from the explosion. The edge of the fireball caught him and he sailed into Fisher’s arms as Fisher sat up, and his right side was peppered with first-degree burns. His right ear was raw from the heat, and a distinct bacon scent wafted from him.
The guards dropped into firing crouches, weapons trained on the Gemini.
“Say the word,” the sergeant said, closing one eye and aiming. The crackling got louder and louder.
“Everyone stop it! This instant,” Mr. Bas said as he leapt back to his feet. He gave the Gemini a parental stare. “All right,” he said, “if school is how you want to begin our diplomatic relationship, school it is.”
Slowly, the crackling subsided, and the Gemini’s glowing skin dimmed and went back to normal. The sergeant indicated that the guards should stand down.
Mr. and Mrs. Bas turned to the ten or twelve scientists clustered around the security barrier. After a minute of urgent, whispered conversation, Fisher’s mom returned to face the Gemini.
“If you’d just come this way,” Mrs. Bas said in the most lighthearted tone she could muster. She pointed to a futuristic-looking bus that was even now making its lumbering way through the park, “we have a vehicle prepared for you specially. This will be your temporary home. For the moment, you’ll be stationed at a facility just next to our home. And, beginning Monday, you can all attend school … somehow.”
The twenty-two Gemini filed onto the bus without another word, gliding through the crowd like a blowtorch through butter, escorted by a group of overeager scientists and members of the security SWAT team. As the last two Gemini boarded—Fisher couldn’t remember their names—they paused, turned, smiled slyly at him with the exact same tilt to their heads, and gave a small wave.
Fisher found that he’d been holding his breath. As soon as the bus began to pull away, he felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache. Could he have done anything to have made the interaction go better, or at least less explosive? History—or random chance, if he was being honest—had placed him at the forefront of human–Gemini relations.
And now the aliens wanted to go to Wompalog.
The prospect was terrifying. It was also the most exciting thing he’d ever imagined.
“Hey,” Alex said to Fisher quietly, “you think maybe we should call Agent Mason?”
FBI Special Agent Syd Mason had originally been tasked with recovering any traces of Mrs. Bas’s Accelerated Growth Hormone, which included Alex. After an unfortunate beginning Fisher, Alex, and Mason had eventually formed an alliance against Dr. X. Mason had even shown up at the last second to rescue them from the collapsing school after the final battle with Three. If there was ever a time to involve him, the surprise presence of alien life on Earth seemed appropriate.
“I doubt we need to,” Fisher said. “He probably knew about the Gemini weeks ago like our parents. I bet he’s here right now. He’ll probably jump out from behind that tree any second,” he went on, pointing to one of the few decorative elms around the coaster that hadn’t been pulverized. Fisher and Alex stared at it expectantly. Agent Mason did not jump out from behind it.
“Hm,” Fisher said. “Well, I can’t imagine he’s not involved in this somehow. If he doesn’t turn up soon, we’ll give him a call.”
The Bas parents were still deep in conversation with their scientific colleagues. Fisher couldn’t make out what they were saying, but from the expansiveness of their hand gestures, he knew they felt the same nervous excitement as he did about their new visitors.
FP, on the other hand, looked decidedly unenthusiastic. Fisher scooped up his squealing pig, examining the burn on FP’s right ear. Fortunately, it looked superficial.
“Uh, Fisher?” Fisher felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and nearly dropped FP in surprise. Willard stood in front of him, his left arm in a sling and his face bandaged up. He was looking at the ground, almost as if he were embarrassed.
“I wanted to, uh …” He looked around quickly. Brody and Leroy were nowhere to be seen. “… apologize,” he mumbled.
“Oh,” Fisher said, and couldn’t find another word in his head. This was almost as big a shock as the explosion of the roller coaster. Maybe almost getting blown across Loopity Land in several million smithereens had finally humbled Willard. Fisher cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s okay. I’m just … relieved … you weren’t seriously hurt.” Happy would have been a bit of an overstatement. “So, uh, how did you guys get in here, anyway?”
“We were t-tagging along with my d-dad,” Willard replied, still staring at the space between his feet.
“How did your dad get in?” said Fisher, picturing a larger and even more gargoyle-shaped version of Willard. Maybe his dad worked for one of the scientists as a paperweight, or a standard for measuring density.
“H-he’s on the team that’s working with your parents,” Willard said. “The Mission for Organized Retrieval of Objects from Nearby Space.”
“MORONS?” Fisher said.
“Uh, y-yeah,” Willard said. “They say they get that a lot from NASA. My dad’s a p-propulsion research engineer.”
Fisher felt like a pair of electric eels had just kissed his temples.
“Your father is a rocket scientist?” he said, not even trying to conceal his shock. Willard nodded, then made a second, awkward good-bye nod and hurried off. Fisher stared off after Willard, shaking his head. The surprises were piling high today.
“Hey, Fisher,” said Veronica. FP wiggled in Fisher’s arms and Veronica held up a tube of burn ointment she must have procured from an EMT. Gratefully, Fisher took it from her. For a moment, they stood in awkward silence as Fisher tried to figure out how Veronica must be feeling. After a minute, he remembered that he could, in fact, ask her. Some of the finer points of socializing were still solidifying in his mind.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Veronica took the tube back from Fisher’s hand and carefully applied the burn ointment onto FP’s ear.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, without looking up. “I mean, I understand this is a momentous event. I want to be happy. I want to welcome the Gemini with open arms. I just can’t quite bring myself to trust them. I can’t figure them out at all. What do they really want? Why are they so interested in Wompalog and not the UN or NASA?”
“I don’t know,” Fisher said, watching larger work crews move in to begin carting off the rubble and debris from the M3. “But the Gemini are far more advanced than we are. Given the kind
of technology needed for long-range interstellar flight, I’d put them at least four or five hundred years ahead of us. Imagine what they’ve seen. What they must have discovered out there. And their technology! If they’d meant us harm, we’d all be dead by now.”
“I hope so,” said Veronica. “But not everything that glitters is gold. And if they don’t even bat an eye when one of their own goes up in flames, I can’t imagine they’d put much value on a human life.”
Her normally brilliant eyes were dark, as if they’d been smudged with ash. Her golden hair was frizzy from the explosion. And there was an urgency to her voice, a warning he struggled to understand.
“Are you saying that if I make a mistake, something bad could happen to me?” he asked.
“No,” she said quietly. “I’m saying that if you make a mistake, something bad could happen to all of us.”
I believe in taking on whatever the universe throws at you, I just wasn’t expecting the universe to take that challenge so literally.
—Alex Bas, Personal Notes
WEL … COME … TO … SCHOOL
WEL … COME … TO … SCHOOL
“Hey, Fisher?” Veronica said, looking up at the huge scrolling LED sign Fisher had put above one of Wompalog’s main trailers. “Think you might be missing something?”
“What?” Fisher said, marveling at it, his face aglow with a cheek-aching smile. “It all looks good to m—oh, no. No, no, no, no, no …” he repeated to himself as he ran to the control panel and frantically attempted to input the correct spelling of school.
To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. He was as jumpy as a cricket after five espressos.
WEL … COME … TO … SCHOOL now scrolled across the flashing sign. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Veronica laid a hand on his arm. “Look,” she said. “I want you to know, I hope I’m wrong about the Gemini. I hope I’m just being … paranoid.”
“I understand,” Fisher said. It was Monday morning. Since Saturday, he and Veronica had barely spoken about the aliens’ arrival. They had barely spoken at all. Fisher was still a little hurt that Veronica was being so negative about the single most important event in human history. “Both species just have to work to understand each other.”
