Earth vs Alien

by Ronald D Thompson

  Oosapeth considered the persistency of the operative. He knew the rules, he also knew that quarantine wasn’t a usual request but didn’t want to alarm the others. He reluctantly agreed.

  The passengers gathered and the operative walked along a corridor, brightly lit and clinically white. Oosapeth was only a few paces behind the operative. Each side of the corridor were cubicles, about 100 or so at first glance, segregated, one to each cubicle. Oosapeth’s concern was that many of the cubicles were already occupied; the transparent cubicles told a story – there must be an outbreak. Oosapeth had only ever known a handful of cases where an inmate needed to be quarantined. An overwhelming concern consumed his thoughts.

  The operative followed him into a clinical disinfected sparse cubicle, equipped with medical apparatus, way beyond human understanding. Oosapeth stripped of his garments and lay on the futuristic bed. A kind of clear jelly-like substance containing a calming tranquiliser was applied that moulded to his frame before impregnating Oosapeth. The operative hovered over his torso and the overhead robotic arms went to work, taking samples of blood and bodily fluids, by which, measurements of his wellbeing could be analysed.

  The operative spoke.

  ‘I apologise for having to override your request to seek the safety of your daughter, but no doubt you will have noticed the occupancy of the quarantine booths?’

  ‘I noticed,’ replied Oosapeth. ‘What exactly is the problem?’

  ‘I’m afraid the problem is not just confined to the quarantine rooms. By the time we noticed there was an outbreak, most of the victims were too far gone to save.’

  Oosapeth looked visibly shocked, despite the calming drugs. ‘How many?’

  ‘Almost 30% of the inmates and counting,’ replied the operative. ‘It seems that it could be a virus you brought on board. We are aware of all the viruses on our planet and Colony 7 is sterilised, so we have never had an outbreak on the space centre. We normally deal with injuries where inmates have tried to escape and have been burned by the lasers guarding their space. Our medical equipment is just not able to deal with this new strain of virus. We are working on it but, as yet, haven’t found an antidote.’

  This was turning out to be a nightmare. First his daughter goes missing and now his own life might be in danger.

  ‘I’m running a test to see if you are infected,’ said the operative.

  Oosapeth thought about his last visit back home when one of his warriors was refused entry to the city due to an unknown virus. Where had they possibly picked up such a deadly disease? If he indeed carried the infection and was confined to quarantine, how would he be able to track down his daughter?

  The operative had checked the results.

  ‘It’s positive, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I need to know if any of the others are infected,’ replied Oosapeth.

  ‘The data has just come through. The virus only seems to affect our race. Dane Vhastek is clear, as are his warriors,’ replied the operative.

  ‘Then find an antidote and that’s an order!’

  *****************************

  James Eaton was well enough to talk, but very groggy. He was still in quarantine at Area 51 but the president was impatient. He needed information. Tests had been carried out and Colonel Smithers entered the room to brief James.

  ‘A beard suits you, James,’ commented Smithers.

  ‘My alien girlfriend wasn’t an admirer,’ he replied.

  Smithers looked down at his perfectly polished shoes. This was going to be difficult. ‘James, this isn’t going to be easy. It’s your friends on the craft. You see, you crashed and there were casualties.’

  ‘How many?’ asked James.

  ‘All but you and Bella Laurent.’

  The grief consumed every fabric of his being. A deafening silence ensued. Each second that passed could have been an hour; such was the intensity of the moment. Smithers needed to break the silence, but what to say? How do you console the inconsolable?

  ‘We have recovered the bodies. Your friends are confirmed as deceased, but we know nothing of the alien’s state,’ said Smithers, who inadvertently had given hope about the other victim.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ replied James.

  ‘She’s an alien − an alien of far superior intelligence and far superior technology. We are not sure whether she can be revived. She has been frozen for the moment. We are flying in specialists and keeping the body at a temperature where, if there is any possibility of revival at a later date, we have given the alien a chance. We did the same thing following the alien crash at Roswell in 1947.’

  ‘Oosapeth!’ screamed James. ‘We need to get a message to her father.’ He was now losing his self-control, but Smithers needed answers.

  ‘That’s why we need information,’ he replied. ‘We need to save her; we need the aliens to help us. We are losing this battle, James. The aliens are decommissioning our nuclear weapons and constantly messing with our telecommunications. Our banking systems are defunct and we have alien monsters running riot. Frankly, we are in a mess! We need help.’

  James restored his composure. He thought of Serenix but accepted there was a chance she might be saved so he parked his concern for the moment. What do you need to know?’

  ‘How to pulverise these aliens? Who are our allies and who are our foes? Look, we’re not good at understanding hieroglyphics or alien lingo and we have no idea how to beat these monsters wandering all over the place. Maybe, just maybe you can help. The president is relying on you, James. Hell, the whole world is relying on you!’

  ‘No pressure then,’ said James, trying to add light to the ghastly situation.

  ‘You’re good with pressure, James. You thrive on it. Now, let’s beat the crap out of these aliens!’

  ‘Typical Yank’, thought James. ‘I’m British. We do things in a gentlemanly manner. We should consider the spirit of one of our greatest when he said − ‘We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight on the hills, we shall never surrender!’’

  ‘Churchill?’

  ‘Who else?’

  Smithers nodded, it grieved him to acknowledge a Brit so appreciatively, but that steely determination was exactly what was needed.

  ‘Well, Mr Churchill, we need to write a new speech. Let’s go meet the president.’

  ‘‘We’ll fight them at Area 51’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?’ said James.

  The smile said it all. Smithers ruffled his strawberry blond hair. ‘Let’s go get ‘em, but first a shave.’

  It’s amazing how the norm brings you right down to Earth. So it was!

  CHAPTER 38

  THE DEAL

  Anchorax was suitably relaxed and refreshed. He had fallen for the Zaagan servant and the feeling appeared to be reciprocal. As a squalor, he dreamt of a life behind the great wall in Larquiston, but little did he realise that those who were affluent, who lived a life of total luxury, had slaves of their own. He dressed ready for the meeting with Omalius and Elizan, but now his priorities had changed − gone was the new Anchorax who revelled in his new-found notoriety, the servant had re-aligned his priorities.

  Anchorax had showered and Dina vacated the room. Both agreed it was best not to announce their fondness for each other just yet, but he agreed to meet her in a secret location later that evening on the outskirts of the city where they could talk privately. Neither were sure that they weren’t being monitored so, to be safe, they arranged their rendezvous whilst showering together. He kissed her before she left the room and she smiled, her deep blue eyes framed by her flaming red hair.

  Omalius greeted Anchorax as he entered the hallway, accompanying him to the room where Elizan was waiting.

  ‘I trust you had a good rest and have eaten well?’ asked Omalius.

  ‘I wasn’t disappointed,’ replied Anchorax, falling short of directly referring to the slave girl.

>   They entered the room accompanied by the obligatory munika guards who left once they were inside. They closed the great doors engraved with iconic buildings in Larquiston; the clunk depicting a heavy-duty, almost metallic, door. No one was escaping, the munika would see to that.

  ‘Please sit,’ said Elizan who had changed, now ‘wearing’ a revealing blue dress that left nothing to the imagination. Omalius wasn’t surprised; he expected Elizan would display her best assets − whenever she was meeting an ally she needed to impress. It was cheap, but he always marvelled at the results this tactic produced.

  ‘Tell me, did you enjoy the food and the company?’ asked Elizan. Unlike Omalius who thought it best to be discreet about the female, Elizan as a female herself insisted on letting her guest know that he was a male and a weak one at that.

  ‘I have already been asked that question,’ replied Anchorax. Omalius gave a disapproving glance in Elizan’s direction that was acknowledged.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, Anchorax, we just want to ensure you feel comfortable. So, tell me, how is Dane Vhastek?’

  ‘If you are referring to his emotional state, I would prefer not to answer the question. I am only concerned with the task in hand and the deal on the table for those outside the great wall.’

  Elizan sensed a change in Anchorax, but he was quite right, the deal was what this meeting revolved around. ‘I understand,’ agreed Elizan.

  ‘Dane’s temperament has changed; the alliance is moving out of the ice cave and heading towards Colony 7. It is a Trollozyte space station commissioned by Oosapeth as a base for the alien and human coalition, to orchestrate an attack.’

  ‘Interesting,’ replied Elizan. ‘It all sounds a little unsettling though.’

  ‘No more so than the announcement your sister is still alive. I guess that must be unsettling?’

  Elizan hadn’t bargained for such an awkward confrontation and needed to get the discussion onto the subject of a new proposed deal. ‘It seems to me that this coalition might be fragmenting somewhat. With Dane destabilised and the operation fleeing from the ice caves, if I was in your position, I would feel a little uneasy.’

  ‘I have been considering my role in great depth. I need to be sure I am not leading my fellow Zaagans to the slaughter,’ falling short of calling his comrades squalors.

  ‘We are the same race. We are all Zaagans,’ acknowledged Elizan. ‘It’s ironic but we should trust each other. Our planet needs resources, we cannot continue with the floating cities for much longer as our population increases to unsustainable levels. My father has been searching for a new home − other planets that might offer us a chance. Earth is such a planet,’ explained Elizan.

  ‘Earth has already been offered,’ said Anchorax. The statement was designed to throw Elizan, to derail her from the script.

  ‘Offered?’

  ‘Offered! In return for murdering Dane Vhastek.’

  ‘Oosapeth?’

  ‘Let us say that tempers are running high and the prize is in sight. Dane is the alien who rescued me from a squalor existence and has given my fellow Zaagans a chance to escape. What should I do?’

  ‘You look after the interests of your friends,’ replied Elizan, ‘but there may be an alternative.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Oosapeth is not to be trusted. The Trollozytes brokered deals with my father; they have no morals as it is all about business. Rape planets of their resources, kill or imprison the alien population on the planet and move on. I am not saying that my father is honourable, but Oosapeth is not to be trusted.’

  ‘So, what is the solution?’ asked Anchorax.

  ‘We work together and conquer vast areas of Earth for ourselves. We need to create the illusion that you are going along with Oosapeth’s plan for the moment. There is one major change.’

  ‘I’m still listening,’ urged Anchorax.

  ‘We have an ally. A race that can offer extra numbers on the ground. There is a trade-off but it won’t affect any arrangement we agree.’

  ‘Why should I trust you?’

  ‘Would you rather trust an alien who can turn on his friend? What’s to say you are not part of his plan? What’s to say that he isn’t planning on terminating you?’

  ‘It had crossed my mind. Tell me about your plans to migrate should the plan succeed. How many of the elite in Larquiston would leave?’

  ‘Most, I would say. Of course, the other major capitals would also follow suit otherwise they may be at the mercy of your friends.’

  ‘Suppose I am not interested in Earth. Suppose I suggest that I am interested in your technology and taking over the capitals here on Zarduzian?’

  This meeting was going far better than planned. Elizan had been given the opportunity to seal a deal with Anchorax, which secured her the reward she craved − Earth.

  ‘I can’t promise you all the capital cities, but I can promise you the crown jewel − Larquiston. You would have the power over the other capitals. Whether you free the squalors or bask in the power, will be up to you,’ said Elizan.

  Anchorax’s mind immediately turned to Dina. He was meeting her later. He was surprised how easily his wishes were granted. He knew he would have both Dane and Oosapeth to contend with, but for now he had an ally and a way out.

  *************************************

  Dina had left a gizmo with strict instructions to keep the rendezvous quiet. There was a place just outside the hustle and bustle of Larquiston − an area of diminished opulence, one where the munika hardly ever patrolled, a park area consumed by trees, one where lovers could meet, particularly those lovers who were otherwise attached. Dina was unattached, but this was a perfect spot to rendezvous, an area the Zaagans of Larquiston generally avoided. The device she handed Anchorax, as she said her goodbyes earlier, would twin with the identical device in her possession. It was small, the size of a coin, easy to conceal but effective nonetheless.

  Anchorax agreed to meet again with Elizan after a good night’s sleep, to talk further. He cleared the way to go out into the square that night by requesting that he be given freedom to celebrate in the great city of Larquiston. He argued that he should start becoming accustomed to what Larquiston had to offer, now that he would become the benefactor. His wish was granted and Omalius insisted that he would not be bothered unduly by the munika.

  Anchorax had freshened up in his room, changed into some attire provided for him by Omalius and duly walked across the reception area, acknowledged the munika and walked through the magnificent doors of the great hall. Once outside he viewed the device. A green dot indicated his current position and a red dot indicated Dina’s. She had said that she would wait for him; the device would indicate to her when he was on the move. The gizmo would instruct him.

  Anchorax checked the device, it indicated to walk 200 yards before veering left. He looked around to see if anyone noticed him looking at the device. It seemed no one cared. The streets of Larquiston were busy, awash with partying citizens. The city was vibrant on a night-time, there were few munika about; Anchorax was enjoying his freedom, his mind clearly set on meeting up with Dina. He headed out of the square, past the portal bays which were always busy and was now heading away to the north of the city. A few revellers, worst for wear and obviously inebriated, asked if he would like to join them. One Zaagan, a female, had given him the eye; Anchorax refrained and moved on, checking the device for the next deviation of route.

  It took around 20 minutes to reach the destination. With both dots forming an orange dot, he had arrived.

  Anchorax looked around the park area that was dimly lit. The trees were many; he could hear laughter in the wooded area, laughter that suggested misgivings. He looked around frantically but there was no sign of Dina. She was right, the area was not patrolled by munika, but Anchorax was feeling anxious and he couldn’t shout out. Had she been harmed? Had anyone found out about their rendezvous? Family, perhaps? Perhaps they didn’t approve?
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  Just then, two hands covered his eyes by someone behind him.

  ‘Shush!’ said the female. ‘Walk forward and say nothing.’

  ‘Dina,’ Anchorax whispered.

  ‘Of course, who else?’ she replied. ‘Walk forward and I will guide you.’

  A few moments passed and Dina removed her hands from his eyes. He turned and in the dim light he could see that she was naked; her robe lay crumpled at her feet.

  ‘So, this is how it is done,’ said Anchorax.

  ‘Are we going to talk all night?’

  Anchorax revelled in the mystique. Dina was not only beautiful, but also exciting and exhilarating. They made love as if it were the most natural thing to do, even though they were in the middle of a park and both vulnerable.

  He promised Dina that he would see her the following night. She wasn’t too sure, it was dangerous and her family would be suspicious. They agreed that Anchorax should check his device tomorrow at precisely the same time. If her red light was lit then she had the all clear. He left content, in love, infatuated, his silhouette disappearing as Dina watched.

  Another silhouette soon appeared the second that Anchorax was out of sight. It was a familiar silhouette, rather portly, but smaller than that of her lover. The figure, equipped with the same gizmo Anchorax had so successfully used, had also negotiated the meeting point. However, this meeting wasn’t going to be as pleasant.

  CHAPTER 39

  TWIN IMPOSTERS

  The casualty rate was rising amongst the Trollozytes on Colony 7. The virus had taken hold and the on-board technologically advanced medical machines had failed to find an antidote to the unknown virus, which was killing those infected on the space centre. Quarantine had, to a degree, contained the spread of the virus, but those afflicted had perished. To ensure the virus would not completely annihilate the Trollozytes on board, the dead were jettisoned from the spacecraft in a sealed, white, cylindrical container with a warning in hieroglyphics that the contents should not be opened.