Earth vs Alien

by Ronald D Thompson

  ‘Bella,’ he said in a manner that suggested he thought she might break into tears at any moment, ‘are you okay?’

  Bella’s English was very good; her French accent accentuated her gentle demeanour. Scott almost wanted to be the father she had lost. He had children, albeit very young, nonetheless his fatherly instincts kicked in.

  ‘Scott,’ said Bella. As Scott suspected, a tear formed and was starting to trickle down her cheek. ‘I want to go home. I want to see my mother.’

  ‘Bella, I don’t know whether that is possible,’ replied Scott.

  The tears began to flow. Scott had been considering the very same request. He hadn’t seen his wife or children either. Both knew that it would be an impossible request; both also knew that the others had considered the same request.

  Scott was a Christian and these were alien beings − their very existence had challenged his own faith beyond limit. Bella’s yearning to see her family reignited Scott’s religious beliefs; it was time to put to one side the alien war and regress to normality, no matter how unrealistic that seemed.

  Scott and Bella’s brief chat had drawn attention. Dane had witnessed Bella’s distress and was making his way over. The cave was littered with warriors, engineers were engrossed in data coming through and holographic computer simulations were playing out future battle permutations, all adding to the backdrop of chaos. All that Bella wanted was serenity and calm, preferably in the comfort of her home town Colmar with her beloved mother, even just for a brief moment. Normality, somehow, seemed abnormal.

  The ice caves weren’t large enough to hold too many craft. The entrance to the caves, disguised by a clever piece of highly advanced technology, created a mirage above ground. Craft would be disguised by the mirage covering, not only the visual of the craft but also a clever deflective element to prevent evidence of heat beneath the ice, which might be detected by infra-red. A basement area detatched from the main ice caves could house up to 50 craft. Enough to fight off an attack. This was the element missing from Dane Vhastek’s ice caves. Any hint of an attack and these craft would emerge from the ice undetected, offering an element of surprise to defend the base.

  Scott approached Dane, complete with translation headset.

  ‘There are one or two of us who must know if our families are safe,’ said Scott.

  ‘The battle is unfolding. At the moment, we are safe here in the caves whilst we hatch a plan. This is not a good time to request a home visit. I don’t think Oosapeth would approve,’ replied Dane.

  ‘Isn’t there a way we could survey Qudor’s territorial advantage? A fact-finding mission if you will, where we could check in on our family at the same time. I realise it is asking a lot.’

  ‘It is asking a lot − too much. If we venture out from the caves, we might draw attention. Give away our position,’ confirmed Dane.

  ‘The hologram does not indicate any alien craft nearby, not at the moment at least. This is an ideal opportunity.’

  ‘Too dangerous,’ said Dane.

  ‘So, if you knew of Annaluce’s whereabouts, are you telling me you would think it would be too dangerous?’ replied Scott.

  Dane paused. Scott had a point and he knew exactly how he would react should that situation occur.

  ‘Look, suppose we survey the damage, call in on our families, then see if we can make contact with the White House. They need to know the plan. It would make sense for both Bella and I to meet with the United States’ President.’

  James, Demitri and Patrick overheard the discussion. Dane could see that this could easily get out of hand. The safety of the humans was pivotal, but he could also see that they needed to know their family members were safe. Dane gestured over to James and simply raised his left hand, indicating that their time would come, that a request for everyone to pursue a home visit was currently out of the question.

  ‘I’ll check with Oosapeth,’ said Dane as he left to thrash out the possibilities of their request with his comrade.

  Scott returned to relay the discussion with Bella, not convinced that he had won over Dane. All he could do was wait.

  Four craft were being prepared. It had been an hour since Scott spoke with Dane, a time span that had seen Oosapeth sanction the deployment of four craft for the mission. Bella in one craft duly prepared an operational, Scott in another; two further craft would accompany both Bella and Scott to their separate destinations to meet up with family, then on to the White House.

  The huge base in the ice caves was an impressive sight, as were the 50 craft, ready at a moment’s notice to be deployed into action.

  Bella, as did Scott, strapped themselves into their seats. At one end of this huge hangar was a portal. This ice cave had been meticulously built for any eventuality. The portal could evacuate the entire craft from the caves if necessary, with very little notice, should they need to leave hastily.

  The craft were ready. The illusion of a roof to this huge hangar was courtesy of technology beyond our comprehension. The craft lifted in unison and were through the mirage in seconds. Oosapeth and Dane had surveyed the war hologram; no enemy were reported in the vicinity so the mission, for the moment at least, was safe. These Trollozyte craft were almost devoid of sound, navigated their way through the roof with ease and were off into the upper echelons of the Earth atmosphere within seconds. Two craft headed towards Colmar, France and the other two to Kentucky, USA.

  Unlike Earth’s conventional means of air travel, the experience within an alien craft was surreal. The Earth’s curvature formed almost instantly as the craft lifted to a great height. The g-force was negated, technology within the craft countered the force conventional aircraft would encounter at such speeds. Bella and Scott both glanced at the view independently, the look said a thousand words − a thousand years could pass and their fellow humans may never understand their experience, at this very moment in time.

  The Earth was different − no longer the sole possession of the most intelligent species on the planet − that was no longer a luxury. It could never be as it was, those immature failings that drove mankind apart − the meaningless pursuit of power, the differences on matters which were now clearly redundant, like religion, now reduced to an irrelevance, the relentless desire to control more of our planet by the dominant military powers, all eclipsed and reduced to petty differences, in a moment, by these alien invaders. What mankind would give to turn back the clock.

  The four-craft split; two heading towards Colmar and two heading towards Kentucky.

  Colmar was far enough from a major city to be overrun by Drayzaks, at least in theory. News had spread that the alien invasion was changing the very fabric of our existence. Communications were severely hampered, but the residents of Colmar rallied together. Food was being shared, the elderly had been evacuated to move in with the younger residents and children were kept safely indoors. Others had fled to more remote places in the countryside, in the hope of evading those intent on destroying our civilisation. News had reached the village of the alien war over CERN.

  Bella’s house was a small cottage near the village she so longed for; the café that she cherished as a child was now closed, the village a ghost town.

  Oosapeth’s two craft were menacing to the human eye, it clearly sent out a signal that life as we knew it had profoundly changed. The plan was to descend, find a clearing, one that was camouflaged by surrounding woodland and travel to their destination courtesy of a dorker.

  The craft landed in countryside outside the village at a safe distance. Surveillance showed no sign of enemy spacecraft, nor the dreaded Drayzaks. The dorkers had been prepared, three in total − enough to handle an attack, should the unlikely occur. Two dorkers would lead, the third following closely behind. Bella would be a pillion on the third.

  The craft door opened, a unique scene in the French countryside. The night sky was clear; it was the one thing that was unchanged. The three dorkers descended, the invisibility reflector mirroring its surroundi
ngs hid any trace of the machines, although still detectable by the advanced technology of their enemy. The plan was to stay low in order to minimise attention from those who may detect them, to utilise the woodlands between the landing area and the village of Colmar.

  This was countryside familiar to Bella. Never in her wildest dreams in her younger days, picking blackberries in the fields, did she ever imagine the land being navigated by aliens, moreover, aliens whom she had befriended. The windless feeling of effortlessly meandering in and out of the woodland, she had to admit, was exhilarating. A thought occurred ‘Is my mother ever going to believe it is her daughter dressed like an alien?’

  With the village approached − deserted, silent and undetected, the dorkers slowed to navigate the cobbled streets. The destination of Bella’s home was ingrained in the holographic image on the navigation control board. Bella’s heart skipped a beat as the once thriving café, Le Chalet, was devoid of life. The memories flooded back, happy times in an era of complete safety. If she had a time machine she would return to those times in an instant. The petty grievances that consumed her very being in those days would be swept aside; the only thing that would have mattered would be to tell her family and friends how much she truly loved each and every one of them. Tears welled in her eyes.

  The cottage approached. Three dorkers would settle in the rear garden. Bella was lucky in that respect; the garden was plenty big enough. To anyone observing, the dorkers would be almost invisible, yet a haunting distortion might be detected. Bella had to dismount, alone. To an observer she would appear out of nowhere. This was the most dangerous part of the mission, the section where Bella would have no immediate back-up. If there were anything lurking, she would be helpless.

  The approach to the rear door, a marine blue, was both exhilarating and painful. Would her mother be alive? Would she be attacked by a scared mob that might not recognise her in time? Would the Drayzaks have already consumed all in their path? The questions were plenty; her only concern was for her mother.

  The door was open. A bad sign. Bella pushed lightly as the door slowly depicted the scene. A bleak sight. Curtains had been removed and soft furnishings such as sofa cushions − all missing. Bella walked towards the kitchen, the Shaker units in white, with a pantry to the side, all devoid of any food or supplies. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like an evacuation. There wasn’t a sound just a lifeless, deafening silence.

  Bella remembered the basement. Her father used to keep his tools there. He would repair furniture and make much-needed cabinets. She could almost feel his presence, almost hear his response when Michelle called her husband for his evening meal. The door to the basement was shut.

  Bella tried to open the door but it was firmly locked. Instinctively she shouted, ‘Mamma, it’s me, Bella! Open up, please, I beg of you!’

  Silence. A delay. A baby cried out, there was life down there and that must mean her mother too. A reply of, ‘Bella, is that really you?’

  ‘Mother, it is indeed me, please open the door,’ requested Bella. She needed to say something that would identify that it was hers, as in, ‘Is father’s lathe still down there and his tools, the ones that made my bedside cabinet?’

  A cry came out from the basement, a cry of utter joy. ‘Bella!’ The door unlocked. A frightened, bewildered, grey-haired woman, whose face glistened with the moisture from her tears, focused on the individual on the other side of the door. Almost expecting to see a monstrous creature, it took a few seconds for the realisation to register that it was her daughter, Bella.

  ‘Mamma!’ cried Bella. The embrace that followed epitomised love, yet with an unhealthy desperation to cling to her daughter as if her very life depended on it.

  In the basement a group of individuals all huddled together, were petrified. The news of an alien invasion had drawn the locals towards anyone who had a basement. Food and supplies were gathered for the long stay; makeshift cooking facilities, similar to camping grills, as well as portable refrigerators, were used. To survive would mean staying in hiding for as long as it took. There were young children, scared beyond imagination, a sight that would haunt Bella no matter how long she survived, intensified by the perilous situation unfolding.

  Bella had to do something to get these poor souls to a safe place − their safety was far more important than any plan Dane or Oosapeth wished to carry out. For the moment though she had become human again.

  **********************************

  On the outskirts of Kentucky, in a similar fashion to Colmar, the two dorkers headed towards their destination. Scott resided in Glenview, in the north-eastern part of Jefferson Country, an affluent city in Kentucky. With fewer than 800 residents it would not be difficult to locate the million-dollar home, courtesy of Scott’s evangelical past.

  The craft chose to land in the Glenview Hills, secluded enough to carve out a route that would prove the least congested, one that might offer the least resistance. Kentucky as a region was far more challenging than Colmar, France. Washington, whilst almost 4,000 miles away, was close enough to see the effect that the alien invasion was having on the geographical area. Drayzaks could fly, albeit without the best efficiency, but they could fly. Gathered in parks, camouflaged by the woodland areas, these creatures could venture into residential areas at will, capture victims and return to the woodlands with their prey.

  As the dorkers descended, the destruction was unfolding. In only a few days, neighbourhoods were fleeing their homes, communication via network news stations were severely disrupted and, with no real information, the safest thing to do was flee. Miles and miles of traffic cluttered the highways while residents were hastily packing their belongings and leaving, quite where, nobody was sure, but being on the move was preferable to being a sitting duck at home.

  Scott looked on in horror, he feared the worst. Had his wife fled with the children? Why hadn’t he insisted on going home earlier? So much had happened, he never had a real opportunity − the more he tried to justify his actions the guiltier he felt. He had disowned his family when they needed him the most. He could only pray. If ever he needed his prayers answering, it was now.

  His residence was locked into the dorkers’ on-board hologram and they were heading towards the house. People were so concentrated on fleeing they probably wouldn’t have cared a jot if they had seen two alien machines whizzing past. This at least eased a potential obstacle and the dorkers could head towards the house relatively unhindered. The problem was Drayzaks or other alien craft that might detect the dorkers by other means and see through their disguise. They weren’t in the clear by any stretch of the imagination.

  Just as Bella Laurent recalled better times during her journey, Scott McCabe encountered the exact same emotions – the period in his life as an evangelical preacher, the wasted time pursuing his own agenda and sacrificing precious time with his family. The encounter with the grandson who wanted to avenge the fabricated cure of his grandmother’s cancer, who trusted Scott implicitly. The near-death experience, as a result of an almost fatal stabbing; one that didn’t show him the glory of the heavenly kingdom but the hell awaiting him if he continued on this treacherous path. The love he had once found when he shed the evangelical skin and concentrated on the wellbeing of others. Now he was heading to witness the fate of his family at the hands of a monstrous alien hellbent on destroying our very existence.

  What would be the outcome? What horrors might he find? He could only hope. He could only pray.

  **********************************

  The residence was in sight. So far, the dorkers had gone undetected. The sight of his residence brought both feelings of fear and relief to Scott McCabe. Fear for the safety of his family, relief that it was still standing and, from what he could see, still intact. Scott noticed, as did Bella, a lack of vibrancy, a lack of people. A quiet, eerie calm bestowed the neighbourhood that Scott only remembered for its past abundance of activity − from the residents manicuring their gardens
to the cars travelling to and from the shops and restaurants. People had fled; a fear had obviously gripped the community. Fleeing to just where only baffled Scott.

  ‘Over there!’ Scott shouted.

  The dorkers descended, the carefully attended garden of the McCabe residence was now in full view. There were no bodies to be seen; that was a blessing as far as Scott was concerned. Everything appeared as it should. Was that good news or was it merely preparing him for the gruesome sight he was about to behold? For the second time, Scott said a quiet prayer.

  Upon approaching the house, about 100 metres away, hovering just above the tree line was a sight Scott had been praying he wouldn’t witness; the sight of a Drayzak − its awkward flight, distinguishable from any other bird. It disappeared beneath the eye line, into the trees. That could mean only one thing; it had victims and these monsters were reproducing in the gut of those captured.

  The dorker was invisible to the monster so it was unperturbed, a small mercy for the moment. The day seemed like any ordinary day − the sky a perfect, pristine blue and cloudless − almost in defiance of the devastation occurring on this beautiful planet, before his very eyes.

  The dorkers descended further until they reached the lawn area, still unseen. With the threat of Drayzaks, the operation became far more dangerous now, but Scott cared not a jot. He had to get inside the house.

  Scott had been armed, a standard precautionary measure. Dane Vhastek had customised the weapon by synching the alien laser to react to Scott’s voice, as well as uniquely ensuring that the weapon would only respond if held by Scott. Should the weapon fall into the wrong hands, it would be of little use.

  Scott jumped from the dorker the second it stabilised on his manicured lawn. The huge double patio doors leading to a stone tiled seating area and outdoor pool were wide open. Scott, in panic, ran into the kitchen area. What had been a perfectly designed state of the art dining area complete with granite isle was now a broken mess. ‘Drayzaks’, thought Scott, his heart sinking.