The Alien Creator

by Michael Miller

  Andromedan Ship

  Cyborg and minions hold on as major explosions rock the heavy, lumbering spacecraft. Immediately assessing damage that appears limited but substantial, the odd cybernetic organism remains calm while considering options. With the main laser weapon still offline, he opts moving out of range for damage control. The planet would be temporarily lost until the ship is fixed. Then he'd return with loyal minions manning battle stations and four combat units programmed to spare nothing in their wake.

  Space Dragon

  Eyes glued to multiple types of radar feeds from satellites and Space Dragon, the Andromedan spacecraft appears unable to move, though remaining intact despite three hits. Waiting for secondary explosions that never materialize, Ray puts pressure on Joe.

  "It's not exploding or listing, Joe. Hit them again and get us out of here. These aliens give me the creeps. Are we supposed to see delayed reactions? I'd hoped for fireworks or something a little more dramatic."

  "Me too, but I think we hurt them. Sidney, fire a second pack; acknowledge," Joe frowns as the computer responds.

  "Firing sequence underway, Joe," Sidney replies.

  "I agree; damage appears limited. Their frame sustained damage but it wasn't enough considering their size. It could be meta-materials or honeycomb composites stronger than we suspected. Wait a second, Ray," Joe stops mid sentence, "they're moving away. Maybe, we did hurt them. Sidney, fire the second pack."

  "They're picking up speed, Joe," Ray sighs. "I don’t think we can hit them again. Maybe, internal damage is worse than we think."

  As Joe's about to cancel the firing order, the rail gun cuts loose another package of three. As all watch feeds from nose cones, the enemy suddenly vanishes as if catapulted into another time dimension."

  "Next time, we'll need to find vulnerable spots."

  "Next time?" Ray complains, "Next time? What do you mean next time?"

  "They'll be back. This was round one. You heard what Zote said about Earth's uniqueness. Maybe next time, he'll help us. Let's take our passengers back to Dr. Metz."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Area-51 Massive New Hangar

  he elite group of multi-talented scientists at Area-51 are stunned, awed, and nervous when first seeing Space Dragon's cargo. Stepping down the metal grate inside the two-hundred foot wide hangar out of view from enemy spy planes, drones, and satellites, Dr. Metz and company drop jaws when initially eyeing the seven-foot fierce android, not to mention three minions trailing like obedient pets. At bottom of Space Dragon's steep ramp, Joe and Ray wait as Zote follows with smooth human-like steps. Unsure what to say or do, Joe waits until the small translation minion attaches a lead cable to the robot's massive arm.

  "This is our top scientist, Zote," Ray begins once the connection is complete. "His name is Dr. Richard Metz."

  "I am Zote, commander of the space vehicle from U-tom," the translator answers after Zote speaks unintelligible noise almost painful to human eardrums.

  "I'm chief engineer and overall project leader, Zote," the older scientist responds opting not to extend a cordial hand in case his squeeze is excessive. "It is good meeting you. Welcome to Earth; I have many questions for you," Myers replies staring up at the terrifying machine, thankful for its calm demeanor. What to do if the robot becomes agitated is a nagging thought he can't shake at first.

  "I will hear your questions. Be assured, Cyborg will return soon. We have little time to prepare, Dr. Metz."

  "Am I right assuming you dismantled key functions making it possible for us to see and attack your ship?"

  "Affirmative; I ordered disassembly of key components for navigation, steering, cloaking, and weapons. Without these actions, this craft and minions would not have returned. I didn't expect you would attack, though without lowering the defensive shield, your craft would not have been able to find or retrieve us. The electro-magnetic charge would have destroyed all electronic functions."

  "We appreciate your support, Zote. For that reason, I've been given full authority by President Wilford to assist your efforts returning to U-tom and saving Creators. For that specific purpose, we are searching for medical personnel that will volunteer to return at some point."

  Zote listens to the translation and nods. "I will thank President Wilford when the time comes. For now, let us begin preparing for the assault that is sure to come. Cyborg will destroy everything blocking his way to secure this planet. We are his enemy."

  "Why did you decide to help us, Zote?" Metz follows; the answer many are eager to learn.

  "President Wilford is the main reason. He is resolute and honest in ways we subscribe at home. Creators are in grave danger and I believe, with medical help, we could save them. Unfortunately, machines can learn only that which Creators teach. For that reason, I fear Cyborg will take this planet but will not grasp what is best for Creators, my principal concern. Destroying the human race isn't an optimal choice in that regard based on studies of your history and achievements."

  Metz admires how the robot answers questions efficiently with honesty and integrity. His logic is reasonable and sound far as the scientist can tell. "Our vast medical experience has led to many ground-breaking discoveries for extending and saving life forms of all kinds, including machines, animals, and humans. Once we understand how Creators are built, we can then decide what technologies, equipment, and personnel are best suited."

  "Creators are not mechanical, Dr. Metz. They have short lives but lead productive lives with great experience about science, mechanics, energy, cybernetics, systems, and robotics. However, they made little progress understanding how to extend their lives. Injury and age are hurdles they cannot teach machines or Cyborgs. Based on analysis of your history led me to decide President Wilford was being truthful."

  "I can assure you, Zote, many of us are eager to help Creators. It is a supreme challenge we will undertake without hesitation as scientists. The American way is a competitive nature striving to be the best we can be."

  "Explain the American way, Dr. Metz?" the minion translates for Zote.

  Myers notes how Zote's learning curve is amazingly short for understanding term and phrases, not to mention diction and language nuances. "We are a tribal planet with many nations vying for power. Fortunately, this country, a Constitutional Republic called the United States of America, is the most advanced in almost every way. We have the best schools, scientists, and military. We are also the richest nation with a long history of winning."

  "U-tom has long history of Andromedan foes seeking Creator annihilation," Zote explains matter of fact. "Androids, minions, and Cyborgs are built to protect them since without Creators we would not exist. When we return to U-tom, there will be considerable uncertainty for what we find. Therefore, our return must be soon."

  "How long will our journey take to reach U-tom?"

  As Zote waits for the translation, he grits together what looks like fabricated steel jaws. "Return will take several Earth-type years, perhaps three to four, though not five decades taken to reach this planet. Our destination is a defined coordinate in the universe and galaxy. Yet, understand that organisms are our worst enemies. If only machines we would not have conflict on U-tom. If we can neutralize Cyborgs and war-bots, machines and minions will be less problematic."

  "I understand, Zote," Metz replies as the translation registers. "We have cultural differences that keep us in a constant state of war. Yet, paradoxically Creators decided to build organic hybrids for survival, though negative effects are undeniable and necessary. I cannot assure tranquility but among humans, scientists and medical staff are the least warlike. Americans are not like Cyborgs."

  "Pilots on this spacecraft are not scientists or medical staff," Zote reasons, "but many of this aggressive human nature will be essential when returning along with your most lethal armaments. Cyborgs on U-tom will not yield or let us, as invaders, near Creators. They and many combat units will fight to the death to prevent contact. Scientists and medical
staff will not be enough."

  "All right, that's good to know up front about alpha males," Myers shivers. "We can supply many of them. I'll advise Wilford's team to prepare. For now, let's meet with the full science team and start laying out priorities that save this planet. Then, we'll consider how to make it back to U-tom. Do you agree?"

  "Affirmative," Zote nods. "Before leaving my ship, I copied much of the structural information and weapon systems. While there will be little time building equivalents, I am encouraged by the projectiles launched from this spacecraft."

  "Thank you, Zote. We are not defenseless and taking Earth from us won't be easy."

  As Zote scans the large area looking for something or someone in particular, Metz notes his interest. "What are you looking for?"

  "Where is the little human I saw on conference calls to your President? He interests me."

  The unexpected question catches Metz off guard. "I'm not sure who you mean. Can you tell me more about him?"

  "He spoke about broadcasting the battle with Cyborg so all nations can see."

  "Yes, well he works at Global Space Company in Arizona, about three-hundred miles west. What about him?"

  "I would like to talk to him as we are now doing? Can you bring him?"

  Andromedan Spaceship

  Cyborg, the nasty bionic creature with bright cobalt eyes, webbed polymer skin, vice-grip hands, dexterous fingers, piezoelectric energy-absorbing properties, along with multi-core processors, and artificial intelligence, parks the massive five-tier Andromeda spaceship in the Exosphere, the outer most layer of Earth's atmosphere more than four-hundred miles away, satisfied this resourceful enemy didn't follow. For the next few months, the organic creature will direct hull repairs and retrain minions to handle duties his way. During that time hiding in deep space, the over-protective Cyborg will plan an overwhelming assault that will provide safe haven for Creators, its sole purpose in a relatively short life span of thirty years.

  Finding substantial outer primary hull damage, mainly levels two and three where alien projectiles struck, though not completely crippling cloaking and navigation systems, Cyborg accepts his fate without blaming Zote, an inferior machine possibly malfunctioning after so many years. Instead, the biological hybrid decides to start the war eliminating airborne objects that could impede the pods carrying four combat units, while certain the projectiles could destroy them. Satisfied Creator design of reinforced honeycomb hexagonal carbon-carbon layers performed well absorbing most of the hull impact, thereby cutting depths of penetration by the unusual high-speed projectiles, the hybrid wonders about unknown capabilities of this strange race. Therefore, despite success of the protective hull design, the semi-organic entity decides the ground assault must be brutal and merciless forcing aliens to run and hide. Since the spare frozen hybrid is lost, returning to U-tom must begin soon due to a short life span and years of travel. The war must start with fury but end quickly without destroying the planet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  War of the Worlds

  ith more than a million military personnel repositioning and gearing up on Threatcon Delta around the globe, President Jack Wilford decides he'll tell the world tonight what's about to transpire. Pouring over detailed notes and speech input with key Pentagon staff, top White House aides, select cabinet officials, and Congressional leaders, Wilford thinks he has adequate information to go ahead with the televised announcement. Assured his team is doing everything possible to protect the nation and borders, he reviews last minute changes by staff writers, opting to omit references of captured alien robots. Keeping that bit of intelligence from Russians and Chinese might eliminate the chance traditional foes will attempt to breach Area-51.

  "Good evening fellow Americans and others listening to this live broadcast from the White House," Wilford begins somberly sitting behind the Oval Office desk. "I have grave and shocking news to share with everyone that, in my opinion, must not be kept secret any longer. Days ago, our intelligence apparatus spotted a large object in deep space that captured and destroyed American and Israeli equipment in unprovoked manner. Beyond that, this entity has moved closer to Earth and is expected to invade our planet very soon, although the exact time and place isn't clear. Steps are underway to protect the homeland and world, yet the immediate threat centers on the United States. We contacted this alien entity several times in recent days, a massive spaceship originating from Andromeda, a galaxy 2.5 million light years away. This incredible ship traveled almost fifty years seeking another planet to replace their home, a unique Andromeda location in rapid decay due to unstoppable cosmic forces. As all spheres have lives of untold billions of years I'm informed by experts, the alien planet called U-tom and its culture is now facing extinction. Therefore, we must assume their dedication to the task of relocating isn't mere speculation, rather a solemn quest for survival. The value of earth, according to them, is unmatched in cosmic sense with its weather, resources, and atmosphere and won’t be voluntarily abandoned for another planet that may or may not exist. Efforts to negotiate with the Andromedans broke down a couple days ago, and for this reason, I'm providing initial information since options are limited. You're probably wondering why we're concerned or making this War of the Worlds announcement and why we feel the way we do about this unexpected danger. In reality, we see it as an existential threat to all humanity based on conversations with the Andromedans. In summary, they are determined aliens that see us as the dominate population based on extensive analysis of our planet. Therefore, we're simply the first country to face their wrath. We believe these aliens are preparing an attack in coming months, weeks, and days depending on how long it takes to make repairs. Initial combat efforts, I won't share details, damaged their spacecraft but failed destroying it. Thus, we're preparing for a brutal ground invasion promised by them. Currently, we estimate they're operating hundreds of miles above the Earth making ship repairs, but make no mistake they intend confiscating this entire planet for their own use. I won't get into technological detail but suffice to say they traveled billions of miles over decades and are an advanced culture with weapons we can only imagine. I will be keeping you updated but remember taking this planet will not be easy. Our military is the strongest on the planet and recent ramp of their capabilities is fortunate and timely. Regardless of how you feel about armed conflict, we're about to face a determined enemy with few but powerful forces based on gathered intelligence. Make no mistake our forces are gearing up to defend us. At this time, there are no sage words of advice for anyone, rich or poor, strong or weak. Therefore, please don't panic since there is nowhere to hide or be safe. The best course of action for all citizens is to go about your lives the best way you can until we know. For the sake of prudence, police and military units are deploying as we speak to prevent looting, price gouging, bank runs, riots, chaos, and mass hysteria that won't be tolerated. Though martial law could come at any time and any city as needed, right now we see no reason to take such Draconian measures. Keep in mind there is no place to go or to hide that we know. We're unsure where they'll land and how they'll go about confiscating the planet. We're confident they won't destroy Earth since it's why they came. What we do know is they have little regard for the human species, seeing us more as slaves or obstacles to a harmonious place they can call home. All nations, now is the time to secure borders and prepare. Keep the United States in thoughts and prayers as we go about the business of saving this planet. However, be forewarned that any country or group attempting to take advantage of our situation will face harsh consequences, now and in the future. On the other hand, we'll gladly assist any nation protecting itself from this alien force if their battle plan expands beyond what's expected in the early going. That's all for now. We'll have regular press briefings starting tomorrow. Good night, God bless, and we'll talk again soon."

  Kelly's Bar, Wisconsin Avenue

  Standing in a well-trafficked tavern abutting the university campus in Oshkosh, Wisconsin near the Fox
River, most patrons are dazed as the news broadcast follows with recaps of what President Wilford said. With beer and booze flowing faster after the unbelievable announcement that we're not alone in this vast universe, discussions fluctuate from politics, science fiction, hoots and howls, rambunctious toasts to Martians, and end of world hopelessness.

  "I never liked Wilford," a pinstriped suit millennial shouts to drinking pals huddled at the bar. "I wonder how many wish they had voted for the Democrat. This wouldn't have happened with one of ours in the White House."

  The bartender tosses a damp bar towel over his shoulder and smiles. "So you fellas think these aliens wouldn't have come if we'd elected queen bee?"

  Another millennial defends his tipsy pal using logic out of this world. "It's like global warming, man. If we'd spent billions on that, instead of weapons and border walls, nothing like this would have happened. The planet's crazy weather and storms are drawing too much attention. I think these aliens, if that's really what they are, could be here to save the planet from humans."

  A bearded, sleeveless biker and Army veteran based on a Screaming Eagle tattoo sitting nearby spins from his bar stool and moves amid the young well-dressed college educated men in an intimidating way. With brutal clarity and down to earth perspectives, he challenges the drunken men to pay close attention. "I'm gonna give you overpaid punks something to think about. Lame brains like you think you have this world figured out. Bringing global warming into this conversation is brilliant, I must say. I'm certain your liberal professors would agree, but here in the trenches where deplorables like me drink beer and shoot pool, I've gotta say you overpaid for your education. Let's get it straight; aliens, from light years away, came here to undo climate policies of Jack Wilford so dopes like you feel better about fixing the weather. It seems to me these aliens are apt to kill anything in their path if what we heard is true. In fact, they're so enamored with this planet, they want it for themselves despite the awful climate that really hasn't changed for decades if we take out cheating and fudging of sea level and temperature data by global warming fruitcakes. What I see is the most unorthodox non-political person ever telling the world what's happening without blaming anyone. Yet, you numbskulls hear and twist whatever he says into nonsense. I hope you mental misfits aren't the first ones dying so you'll see for yourself how stupid you sound to ignoramuses like me. I need another beer, Jake," he tells the bartender walking away hoping one of group shoves him or throws a punch.