Alien Invaders from Beyond the Stars

by George Ivanoff

  Where should you go? Home?

  But Earth has been conquered by aliens. What’s the point in returning to your house? Perhaps it would be better to go somewhere that the aliens will never find you, like … the Amazon jungle?

  If you want hide in the Amazon jungle, go here.

  If you insist on returning home, go here.

  You stumble after the resistance people. You follow them along some corridors … straight into an oncoming alien.

  ‘Get it!’ commands the grey-haired woman.

  A couple of the others rush at the alien, but you panic. You decide that joining the resistance is not for you. Escape sounds like a better option.

  You rush for the nearest door. There’s a large wheel in the centre of it, just like on submarine doors in the movies. You grasp it and turn. There’s a loud metallic clank.

  ‘No!’ shouts the resistance woman. ‘Don’t!’

  The door swings open and you are sucked out in a rush of air.

  You are falling! Cold air whips at your face, making your eyes water. Through the tears you see the resistance people falling with you.

  You look down. The ground is fast approaching.

  Perhaps you shouldn’t have opened that door.

  The grey-haired woman flies past, shouting angrily at you. Her words are the last you’ll ever hear: ‘YOU FOOL!’

  You run all the way back to the guesthouse and trip over the sleeping man on the lawn.

  He springs up, grabs you and demands to know what’s going on. His eyes are panicky and there is an edge of desperation to his voice.

  You blurt out everything that’s happened and show him the photos on your phone.

  ‘Yes!’ he yells in triumph, snatching the phone out of your hand. ‘I knew it! I knew it would happen! ALIENS! And they all said I was crazy! Well, now I have proof.’

  He takes a card from his pocket and holds it up to your face. It’s too dark for you to read it.

  ‘The name’s Fox. Special Agent Hunter Fox. I work for a secret government department that nobody’s ever heard of. And you are hereby sworn to secrecy. Nothing happened. Tell no one!’ He shoves you towards the guesthouse and runs off into the dark.

  You head back to your room, draw the curtains, then peek around them into the night.

  It’s not long before the first helicopter flies over the guesthouse towards the lake. By dawn the sky is full of helicopters and aeroplanes, and army vehicles are thundering into the national park. At breakfast there is a tremendous explosion.

  You rush outside in time to see an enormous ball of flame reach up from the treetops into the sky. The flying saucer has been destroyed!

  But that’s not the end of it.

  Go here.

  You charge at the brain, throwing yourself at the jar, beating your fists against it.

  ‘A futile effort,’ gurgles the brain.

  Two pincers on metallic tendrils snake out and grasp you. You are lifted off the floor and slammed into the opposite wall. As the pincers retract, you find that you’re stuck to the wall.

  ‘Force field,’ explains Oky, sadly.

  ‘You had your opportunity,’ says the brain. ‘Now you will remain here to watch the war. It will be difficult. It will be lengthy. But it will not be boring!’

  Unable to move, you have no option but to witness the war unfold and see the ultimate destruction of planet Earth!

  You give him your mobile phone then go back to your room for more stuff. You take your portable games console from your bag. You snatch the television remote control. You even grab the old clock radio.

  You give all this to Oky before going to bed.

  The next morning, you check to see how he’s doing.

  He’s not there.

  Heading outside, you find Oky out in the trees. He’s taken apart your electronic devices, as well the television set from his room, and put it all together to create something new. There’s a piece of string leading from the back of the device to the branch on one of the trees.

  You ask him what he’s waiting for.

  ‘For a breeze, dude,’ says Oky. ‘I got this idea from a film. When the wind blows on the tree branches, the string will move back and forth, powering my communications device. Pretty cool, huh?’

  You ask him why he didn’t just use the electricity power socket in the guesthouse room. Or the mobile phone battery.

  Before he can answer, a gust of wind blows through the trees and the television screen flickers to life.

  Oky gets down on his knees in front of the screen and starts hissing into it. You assume it’s his native reptilian language. Seconds later he’s on his feet.

  ‘They were still in range … just. The invasion’s been cancelled and we’re moving off. Looks like the brains have found a new planet to invade.’

  The air around Oky begins to shimmer. He becomes less substantial.

  ‘See ya later, alligator!’ He waves then fades away.

  Oky has returned to his people.

  Earth is safe.

  And it’s all thanks to you.

  You look around at the electronic equipment on the ground. How are you going to explain this to your parents?

  You snatch your phone back and run out of the spaceship, snapping photos as you go. You race into the guesthouse, avoiding the guy sleeping on the lawn, and wake your parents.

  They don’t believe your story until you show them the photos on your phone. You call the police, but they think you’re making it up.

  Now what do you do?

  Your dad reckons you should go to the nearby military base on the edge of the national park. But your mum thinks it would be more effective to upload the photos to the internet and inform the media.

  But the final decision is yours.

  If you want to go to the military base, go here.

  If you would rather upload the photos to the internet, go here.

  You decide to go home.

  Your surroundings shimmer and dissolve.

  And you are in your house, standing in the living room. Your parents are there. They are hugging you, relief evident on their faces.

  They want to know where you’ve been for the past five years. You tell them. And they explain to you what’s happened.

  Earth has been invaded by aliens. Life is almost normal. Everyone goes about their lives as usual. Except now, there is no crime. There is no poverty. But …

  Whenever anyone breaks the rules, or complains or does anything they’re not supposed to, they disappear, never to be seen again.

  And everyone is registered and tagged. Everyone … except you.

  If the aliens find out, you’ll be put back into cold storage. So your parents keep you hidden.

  Your mum and dad conceal you in the basement of the house. They bring you food, books, videos games, whatever you want. You have everything you need … except your freedom.

  You live the rest of your life without ever seeing the sun again.

  The following morning, you tell your parents that you really need some alone time. After they head off for a hike in the national park, you take Oky into the town.

  You are disappointed to discover that there is no electronics store. But there is a small electronics section tucked away at the back of the general store.

  Oky looks through the equipment, picking out what he needs. It’s a lot of stuff and you don’t have enough money.

  ‘Not a problem!’ says Oky. ‘I’ll just make it back here.’

  You head to the front of the store and keep an eye out, ready to warn Oky if anyone comes round.

  A little while later, Oky appears.

  ‘Too late,’ he whispers. ‘They’re out of range.’

  You tell him you’re sorry and that you’ll continue to hide him if he wants.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘I’ve watched enough Earth movies to know how to survive. Thanks for all your help, dude, but it’s time for me to make it on my own. See ya later, alligator.’


  He high-fives you and walks out of the general store and out of your life.

  Go here.

  You quickly upload the photos onto some social media sites, then start sending emails off to journalists.

  Within the hour, your photos have gone viral. The internet is abuzz with talk of alien invasion.

  It’s not long before a helicopter flies over the guesthouse, towards the lake where the saucer had been. By dawn, the sky is full of more helicopters and aeroplanes, and army vehicles are thundering into the national park. Troops are stationed at the guesthouse. They seem to be under the command of that strange guy who’d been sleeping on the deck chair in the middle of the lawn last night.

  And there are reporters everywhere.

  You constantly check your watch … nervously waiting for 5 pm.

  Go here.

  Many years later you’re watching a television chat show. You’re amazed to see that Oky is the guest being interviewed, although he’s now calling himself Bob Okdel.

  It turns out that Bob has made millions of dollars by inventing a synthetic skin that is now used in plastic surgery. And he has invested these millions in the movie industry.

  His first movie as writer and director is about to be released:

  Alien Invaders From Beyond the Stars

  You smile to yourself. You’ll have to go and see the film.

  You back away and watch from behind the sofa, just in case it is a bomb.

  The silver sphere continues to pulsate and whine for a full minute. Then the light fades and the whining is replaced by a steady beep, a bit like the sound you get on the phone when someone hangs up on you.

  Your eyes light up. Maybe it’s a communications device rather than a bomb?

  But it’s too late. You’ve missed your chance.

  As you reach out to pick it up, the sphere disintegrates into a pile of dust.

  You will never know why the aliens were trying to contact you. You live the rest of your life wishing you had picked up the phone … er, sphere.

  Your parents drive you to the military base. The sun is rising as you arrive. You’ve only got until 5 pm to convince them that aliens are about to invade planet Earth.

  The soldiers at the gate don’t want to let you in. But as soon as you show them the photos, they allow you and your parents entry.

  You drive up to the main compound and are met by General Finch.

  ‘We must ascertain the validity of your claim,’ announces General Finch in a voice that clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you, ‘before we can instigate any military action.’

  Your phone is confiscated, and you are separated from your parents and placed in an interrogation room. It is empty, apart from a desk with a lamp, and a wooden chair on either side.

  You are left there for hours. Finally, General Finch returns. You sit on opposite sides of the desk and he points the lamp into your eyes, making you squint.

  You demand to know what they are doing about the aliens.

  ‘Nothing as yet,’ says the general. ‘The photos on your phone are being analysed, but frankly, in this day and age, it is very easy to fake these sorts of things.’

  General Finch spends ages questioning you, making notes and shaking his head as you speak.

  When he gets up, you wonder how long it’s been. You ask him the time. He glances at his watch.

  ‘Seventeen hundred hours.’

  Seventeen hundred hours? That’s military-speak for five o’clock in the afternoon. Five pm!

  An alarm blares. You hear an explosion followed by shouting.

  It’s too late. The aliens are attacking!

  With a parting glance at the hippie FISH woman, you fling yourself through the hatch.

  You are sliding down a metal chute, buffeting from wall to wall as the chute changes course. Then you’re flung out …

  Into a huge, stinking pile of garbage!

  You struggle to your feet and realise that you’re standing in putrid liquid, from decomposing rubbish piled around you in a small metal room. The stench is eye-watering. You hold your hand over your mouth and nose as you look around.

  Something brushes past your leg. You’re not alone, are you?

  A slimy tentacle whips out from beneath what looks like a pile of poo, and wraps itself around your head. It’s trying to drag you down towards the poo.

  You struggle. You can’t imagine anything worse than being plunged headfirst into a pile of poo.

  A loud clang echoes around the room. The tentacle releases you and retracts.

  You breathe a sigh of relief …

  Until you realise that the walls are closing in on you, squishing up the rubbish.

  You’re in a garbage compactor and you’re going to be squashed and mashed up with all the other stuff in the room … including the tentacle and the poo.

  So, there is something worse than being dragged headfirst into a pile of poo, after all.

  Later that day …

  A fleet of flying saucers descends from the skies. And war breaks out!

  It’s Earth versus the flying saucers.

  For the next five years, Earth is devastated by attack after attack. The governments of the world unite and fight back with everything they have.

  It’s a long and difficult war, but finally the alien menace is repulsed.

  Although Earth is in ruins.

  You wonder if all this could have been avoided. If only you had made different choices.

  You desperately try to remember what your teacher said about long division. Something about divisors and remainders? And having to subtract and multiply? No. That couldn’t be right.

  You barely get three words into the explanation when the brain interrupts.

  ‘Oh, no, no, no. Not mathematics! Mathematics is sooooooo boring. You boring little creature. You come from such a boring little planet. We will be doing you a favour by invading you and adding brief excitement to your dull and dreary existence.’

  The stand on which the jar is resting trundles forward. Pincers on metallic tendrils snake out and grip your arms, pulling you close. You are being hugged by the brain-in-a-jar, pressed up against the glass surface. The pulsating grey mass, bobbing around in its liquid, fills your vision.

  ‘Boring creatures must be terminated for their own well-being.’

  You shout for help.

  ‘Sorry, Earth dude,’ says Oky. ‘But if the Big B wants to dispose of you, there’s nothing I can do about it. Ciao!’

  Your body convulses as the pincers send wave after wave of deadly energy coursing through you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  George Ivanoff is an author and stay-at-home dad residing in Melbourne. He has written over 70 books for kids and teens, including the Gamers trilogy. He has books on both the Victorian and NSW Premier’s Reading Challenge lists, and he has won a couple of awards that no one has heard of. As a kid he loved reading interactive books, where he got to make decisions about the direction of the story. Now he is ridiculously happy, having the opportunity to write that type of book. He has had more fun plotting and writing the You Choose books than pretty much anything else … and he hopes you have just as much fun reading them. George drinks too much coffee, eats too much chocolate and watches too much Doctor Who. If you’d like to find out more about George and his writing, check out his website: georgeivanoff.com.au

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0


  You Choose 6: Alien Invaders from Beyond the Stars

  9780857986726

  Copyright © George Ivanoff 2015

  Illustration copyright © James Hart 2015

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted.

  A Random House Australia book

  Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060

  www.randomhouse.com.au

  Random House Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

  First published by Random House Australia in 2015

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

  Author: Ivanoff, George, 1968–

  Title: Alien invaders from beyond the stars [electronic resource]

  ISBN: 978 0 85798 672 6 (ebook)

  Series: You choose; 6

  Target Audience: For primary school age

  Subjects: Plot-your-own stories

  Dewey Number: A823.3

  Cover and internal illustrations by James Hart

  Cover design by Christabella Designs

  Internal design by Midland Typesetters

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