Alienated

by Jeff Norton

  She clapped her hands together and a rainbowshaped, multi-colored virtual control panel fizzed instantly into life behind the steering columns. “Watch and learn.”

  “Now I feel like I’m in a spaceship.”

  Sonya ran her fingers through a blue hemisphere on the panel, and then leaned toward it.

  “Buckle up, boys,” she called.

  I watched her hands glide through the virtual panel – tapping blue and pink holographic buttons.

  “Activating start-up,” she said.

  A very subtle vibration kicked in under my feet and the whole egg seemed to hum.

  “Okay,” Sonya said. “Lesson one: Eggcraft is like Facebook.”

  “Facebook … ? Er, okay,” I said. “Facebook.”

  It suddenly struck me that Facebook might be one of the alien inventions we were all using. I had seen its inventor on TV once and he definitely looked more alien than human.

  “You have to be accepted as a friend before you get access. So stick your thumb in there.”

  She pointed at the part of the display that looked like an orange lightbulb, and I poked my thumb in. I didn’t feel a thing, but the lightbulb turned sky-blue. Then Sonya did the same, and the bulb turned back to orange.

  “Okay,” she said. “You’re in. From now on – if I let you take over the controls – all you’ll have to do is grab the steering column and the Eggcraft will interpret everything else from your thoughts – safety protocols allowing, of course.”

  “You mean,” I said, “I can fly this with my mind, and the Eggcraft will make sure I don’t crash?”

  “She’ll do her best,” Sonya said. “But don’t push your luck. And don’t let your mind wander. She’ll get confused.”

  “Got it,” I said, my mind already wandering, completely amazed by this incredible alien technology. Sonya did the wavy-hand thing again and suddenly we were airborne, hovering above the scrapyard about twenty feet off from the ground.

  “Lesson two,” she said. “People who stay alive fly Eggcraft with the cloaking device switched …”

  I couldn’t believe we were flying. In. A. Spaceship! I just wished my mom could see this.

  Sonya cleared her throat.

  Stared at me.

  Rolled her eyes.

  “Oh … I see, sorry,” I said. “Er … cloaking device … on?”

  “Brilliant,” Sonya said. “It’s that switch. Do it.”

  She pointed at the part of the holographic display that looked like three red doughnuts of top of one another. I ran my hand through it, and the doughnuts turned green.

  “Eggcraft’s completely civilian; no shields, no weapons,” Sonya explained. “Without the cloaking device, we’d be sitting on ducks.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But I think you mean ‘we’d be sitting ducks’.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Is that a sport here too?”

  “I’m sure it is,” I guessed. “Somewhere.”

  “You fleshies are one strange species,” said Sonya. “But back to your lesson. You have to let your mind do the flying. Visualize where you want to go, how fast, and the Eggcraft computers will do your bidding. It’s fly-by-mind.”

  “Great,” I said, telling myself there was no way NATO could ever confuse this flying egg with the “rockets” I was banned from touching. “Can I launch us?”

  “Who’s the pilot?”

  I pointed at her.

  “Then watch and learn,” she said with a smile. “And wait to be invited.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t until we reached the coast of California – night-flying over Los Angeles, millions of orange streetlights glowing in the gray night sky – that I finally got the controls.

  At first, I was nervous, trying to keep my mind focused and clear of distractions, but the feeling was so all-encompassing that I didn’t even want to think of anything else. I was consumed by the sensation of flying. It felt like magic, but of course I knew it was science, alien science. And for a rocket-savant like me, that made it all the more magical.

  I willed the Eggcraft to buzz over the Hollywood sign and then flew out to the Pacific coast. I experimented with some Santa Monica wave-skimming, a few banking curves and some swooping dives. It was exhilarating.

  There was a tap tap tap at the hatch.

  “If you do that again,” Octo called from the cabin, “I’ll make sure it’s you I throw up on!”

  “You better not have spewed octo-puke on my crushed velvet!” said Sonya, leaving me in control as she disappeared into the cabin to check on her upholstery.

  It was time to focus on the task at hand. I eased up on the steering column, kept my mind focused and clear, and settled into a smooth, coastal course towards Costa Rica, to the Monteverde Cloud Forest, for what Sonya had promised would be a perfect view of the active Arenal volcano.

  “We need to get there ASAP,” Sonya said, strapping herself back into the pilot’s seat, but letting me stay at the controls. “Octo puked on NED and he’s threatening to drain Octo’s planet.”

  “What is it with NED?” I said. “Why’s he such a jerk? And why would a guy who acts like a comic book super-villain walk around with such a lame name?”

  “It’s not Ned, dummy,” Sonya explained. “It’s N-E-D – stands for Non-Earth Deity. They’re an entire species of minor deities, each member claiming dominion over a planet or two.”

  “You’d think his parents could afford private school,” I said.

  “He’s been kicked out of most of them,” she said, shaking her head. “I heard that his parents grounded him at Groom Lake to teach him some humility – trying to make him a more generous deity or something like that. But I’m sure they just wanted him out of their plasticky hair.”

  “Why’s he got such a hold on you?”

  “My planet worships the NEDs,” she sighed. “We have this ancient tradition where the NEDs can summon any Aristox clan to perform this stupid ritual, a kind of musical dance—”

  “The Balleropera?” I asked, remembering it from my first encounter with Sonya.

  “That’s it. I mean, on its own, it’s actually a gorgeous expression of life and self and art,” she explained. “But in service of the NEDs, where just getting one move wrong is a capital crime, it’s a disgusting reminder of Aristox subservience.”

  “Subservience like my dad making me polish his boots. He calls it character-building, but I call it child labor.”

  “Exactly like that,” she said, “if the penalty for missing one speck of shine was … death.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, even though I didn’t fully understand how one species could willingly be subservient to another. “I’m glad I only get death stares from Dad.”

  “It’s a good thing the Icons keep the NEDs cornered to one unlucky realm of the universe. The bad thing is that it just happens to include my planet.”

  “Icons like Juliet?” I said, my mind wandering to her unmatched blue beauty.

  The Eggraft lurched starboard and plummeted in a downward spin.

  “Get that blue chick out of your head!” Sonya shouted. “And focus on the flying!”

  I shook myself out of the daydream, doing my best to banish all thoughts of the beautiful being from my head. I flew the egg steady with my newly clear mind, cruising at 800 mph.

  “You’d better get in line, Romeo,” Sonya huffed. “What is it with you boys?”

  “Sorry.”

  “But at least she’s a real deity. The Icons are wise, spiritual, compassionate, all-powerful, and they keep the NEDs in their place.”

  “So Juliet’s all right?” I asked.

  We tilted sharply to the port side. Oops.

  Sonya punched my arm, Jessica-style. I straightened the Eggcraft for a second time.

  “Look out the window, scaleless,” Sonya said. “We’re here. Put us down. Right there in that clearing.”

  As I guided the Eggcraft down among the trees, I suddenly knew why E.T.’s friends took so lo
ng to rescue him.

  Spaceships are actually really hard to park.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Close Encounters of

  the Magma Kind

  The Costa Rican night sky was deep black, ash blotting out the stars. The only light came from the jagged, orange-glowing rivers – like liquid lightning – flowing down the dark slope of the volcano.

  The five of us crouched in the darkness – the Eggcraft safely invisible farther up the ridge – in an earthy-smelling clearing in the middle of the cloud forest.

  Maybe it was the fresh air, but for the first time, NED suddenly seemed nice. “Can’t we … would it be …” he started. “Can we get a little bit closer? I think that would be wonderful.”

  “Nope,” Sonya said. “There are tourists down there. Buses. Campsites. All packed with potential heart attacks at the sight of an android or a ventitent or an Aristox or a NED.”

  “Or a Sherman,” said Octo, slapping me on the back. “He’s no oil painting, either.”

  “Well …” NED mused. “In that case … what I might do is … I think I’ll …”

  With a sprint, he was gone. The trees and bushes shook as NED zipped through the jungle, heading for the volcano.

  “Oh, great,” Sonya said. “We’re going to get busted.”

  “He looks human … ish,” I said. “Just a shame he’ll be back for his ride home.”

  Now that NED had left us in peace, we took in the majestic sight of the Earth’s core slowly rippling down the volcano.

  “I hate to spoil the mood, people,” Octo said after a few minutes. “But, Houston, are you taking any pics?”

  “I’m recording it all,” he said, sounding downhearted. The robot’s mood seemed to have switched from negative to nostalgic.

  “It’s a pretty cool planet you’ve got here, Sherman,” Octo said.

  “It’s home,” I said, thinking about all of the Earth’s wonders as viewed by alien visitors. Octo was right, and there was so much of my planet I’d yet to see. With my head almost permanently in the stars, had I been missing out on the wonders on the ground? “I guess we kinda take it for granted.”

  “At least you have a planet to call home,” Houston said, solemnly.

  “What do you mean?” asked Sonya.

  “My planet is gone,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m here, on Earth. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  But before I could ask what had happened, a loud shriek pierced the night. It was NED, shouting at the top of his lungs.

  “We’d better get him before he gets us into trouble,” said Sonya.

  We piled back into the Eggcraft and Sonya quickly guided the ship further up the vast volcano.

  “He’s up ahead,” said Houston, tracking him on his built-in sonar system. Sonya hovered the Eggcraft just inches above the scorching river, where NED – singing and shouting like a mad man – was playing with, bathing in, then slurping up, hot lava.

  I couldn’t believe he wasn’t burning, but NED was definitely fired up about something.

  He scooped up the liquid magma like he was wading in a river of chocolate. In between gulps, NED blurted out, “Hints of cherry … an after-note of clove … what a sensation!”

  “What’s he doing? He’s acting like my Uncle Charlie on New Year’s Eve,” I said. “I think he’s … drunk!”

  “Octo, can you grab him?” Sonya asked.

  Octo opened the back hatch, dangled out his tentacles and wrapped them around the flailing NED.

  Szzzzzz. Octo’s skin sizzled where the lava splashed him.

  “Ouch! Fried calamari was not meant to be on the menu tonight!” he cried.

  “Do you have him?” asked Sonya.

  Octo’s burning tentacles pulled NED inside. He was tipsy and delirious, and I grabbed onto him. As much as I didn’t like NED, I still didn’t want him to fall out of the Eggcraft. Fortunately he was cool to the touch.

  “I’ve got him!” I shouted, noticing that unlike the charred Octo, NED had no burn marks on him at all from the boiling lava. Strange.

  The rear hatch finally sealed shut. I shoved NED onto the velvet bench and buckled him in. He keeled over, and then began blabbering into his neon phone:

  “That’s what I’m telling you, Dad,” he said. “Yes … the whole planet core … yes … of course I tried some, it was exquisite … feeling a bit woozy though … you really ought to—”

  “Ouchie-ouchie-ouch!” cried Octo. One of his tentacles was on fire.

  I instinctively grabbed two of the flower vases from the tables and doused his flaming appendage with water.

  “AHHHH!” Octo cried. “CHOOOOOOOOO!”

  The gigantic sneeze blew me into the cockpit, between Sonya and Houston.

  I stayed put, safe for the moment, and tried to shake off the three beaks’ worth of sticky snizz I’d been covered in, flicking boogers off my arms and legs.

  “Sherman, no!” called Sonya.

  I thought I’d accidentally tossed a booger her way, but when I climbed down from the dashboard to crouch between the two pilot seats, I realized I’d done something much, much worse.

  “You deactivated the doughnuts!” cried Sonya. “We’re not invisible!”

  “Need the cream, need the cream,” groaned Octo from the back. I remembered the first time I’d met Octo, in the nurse’s office. Nurse Anderson had said something about special cream. “It’s in my truck. Argh, hurts so much!”

  I stared at Sonya and Houston, feeling panic rise in my chest. With Octo flambéed and NED as drunk as a skunk, we had to get home fast, but with the cloaking mechanism disabled, we were, as they say in the sporting world, sitting on ducks.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Outrunning the

  Air Force

  While Sonya tried to reboot the cloaking mechanism, I’d taken Houston’s place in the cockpit and was racing us north towards Groom Lake.

  “Unidentified craft, do not attempt to enter United States airspace. Identify yourself or you will be fired upon.”

  The warning rang through the ship as we approached the southern US border.

  “How long until we go invisible?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Sonya, fiddling with the wires and exposed computer components under the dashboard. “I bought the cloaker off eBay. It didn’t come with a manual.”

  “Unidentified craft, if you enter United States airspace you will be fired upon. We have weapons locked.”

  I flinched as two fighter jets descended from above, flanking us closely.

  “Your Air Force are a bit serious, aren’t they?” said Sonya.

  “You haven’t meet my father, have you?” I said, thinking of my dad, a once four-star Air Force general turned chief stationery officer.

  For a second, I actually considered phoning Dad to ask him to call off the impending air strike. But even if he did believe me, I was guilty of breaking two of his rules and as we were rapidly approaching nine o’clock, I was about to go for the hat-trick. He’d ground me for infinity. And while this airborne egg wasn’t technically a rocket, I didn’t want to take the chance that NATO would overlook the semantics and hand me over to the Russians as soon as we landed. No, we were on our own and I had to outrun the greatest Air Force on the planet.

  “Unidentified craft, we have weapons locked – repeat, we have weapons locked – and will fire unless you leave United States airspace immediately, do you copy?”

  “AHHHHHH,” came a deep bellow from the cabin. Octo was clearly in pain. “Water hurts more than fire!”

  “I say we turn back,” urged Houston. “Expulsion is preferable to destruction.”

  “Very preferable,” I said. “But Octo needs medical attention. Maybe I can reply to that warning?”

  “Reply?” Sonya said. “With what? I don’t even know how we’re hearing them!”

  “What?!” I said. “We’re hearing them through your radio, aren’t we?”

  “Nope,” she said. “I’ve got
mp3 in here, but no radio. Seriously, who listens to the radio?”

  “Unidentified craft, we have weapons locked – repeat, we have weapons locked – and will fire unless you leave United States airspace immediately, do you copy?”

  “No radio?” I shouted. “What is this thing, just some kind of space go-kart?”

  “Watch it, co-pilot.”

  I heard another groan from the cabin as Octo nursed his wounds.

  “You okay back there, big guy?” I asked.

  “NED’s passed out and I’m in a world of pain,” he grumbled. “So yeah, we’re just peachy.”

  “It seems,” Houston announced, “I have been acting as a radio receiver and audio amplifier.”

  “Oh, well … good,” I said. “So you can reply, right?”

  “Nope,” Houston said.

  “Even you don’t have radio?” I said.

  “I don’t have that app.”

  “Unidentified craft, we have weapons locked – repeat, we have weapons locked – and will fire unless you leave United States airspace immediately.”

  “How about GPS?” I asked.

  “Of course, it’s standard.”

  “Good, show me where we are.”

  Houston immediately projected a 3D, holographic map of the American southwest from his eyes onto the dashboard. I found what I was looking for. A great big hole in the middle of the landscape.

  The Grand Canyon.

  “There! We’re going to lose them in there,” I said, pushing the steering column forward and dropping us into a steep dive. I gave the Eggcraft all of the speed I could and zoomed down towards the scar in the Earth. I’d seen Will Smith do this in Independence Day, fleeing from alien fighter craft in his F-18. And if it was good enough for Will, it was good enough for Sherman. Of course, the roles were reversed and I was the one piloting an alien spacecraft, fleeing from the F-18s. I just hoped those pilots hadn’t seen the movie.

  I focused my mind and weaved us through the crevices. Even though it was night, Sonya’s windshield digitally illuminated every rock of the canyon. I had perfect visibility.