They shot across the sky in all directions, some leaving light trails and others burning lines into the sky which remained for ten minutes at a time; they came in orange, green, and blue, cutting the sky open. A dim light, like moonlight, washed over the field. Dozens gathered at the top of the hill. Cars pulled into the parking lot below; every second arrival gazed up with wide eyes, or pointed to the sky. There were low murmurs, exclamations, and no shortage of swear words.
Ben hugged my leg, trembling. I placed a hand on his head.
Dad approached, a beer in hand.
My voice shot up. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“Don’t say that, honey.” He threw an arm around my shoulder. He lowered his voice. “Don’t scare your brother.”
“I thought you stopped drinking.”
“One couldn’t hurt. I just talked to another couple. They’ve invited all their friends out here for a midnight picnic.”
“You’re scared!”
“Shh!”
Ben’s mouth opened. His eyes reflected the vibrant lights. He pointed at the latest, a thick band which resembled a blast of crimson dragon fire. “Pretty.”
“I want to go home, Dad.”
“If it was the end of the world, wouldn’t it be better to be surrounded by others?”
“No.” I shook my head. “If we wanted to survive, it would be better to be by ourselves. Haven’t you seen the films? Attackers always go where the people are concentrated first!”
“You watch too many movies.” Dad laughed. There was an explosion. Dad dropped his beer to cover his ears; the ground trembled. They fell on all sides. One smashed into a car. The smell of smoke and burning metal made by eyes water. Dad seized my hand, and I seized Ben’s; buffeted by the crowds, we tore towards our truck.
Dad flung himself into the driver’s seat. I buckled Ben in, hands trembling.
“Pretty lights, Katy. Pretty.”
“Be quiet, Ben!” I brushed a tear away. I noticed every moment as if time had been slowed down: closing Ben’s door; closing mine; Dad seizing the gear; the truck jostling us; and shooting into the night, cars in a glittering line before and behind. I noticed the details on the trees, the fringes of branches and how much the fire hurt my eyes. Ben’s face glowed orange. I leaned forward, coughing.
Behind us, there was a boom, but the scream which followed was worse.
I turned in my seat, an automatic gesture.
“Don’t look, Katy.”
“Dad!”
“Just keep looking at me.”
I wound my arms around Ben—did I do it for him, or for me? With the warm body folded against me, my shaking slowed. Ben was calm. I forced myself to stare at him, at his blinking blue eyes, the mouth that opened and closed like a guppy. He spoke soundlessly to himself. It was a habit he’d had for at least two years now.
“Sing me a song, Ben.”
He gazed up at me. “A fun one, Katy?”
“A lullaby please.”
“But it’s not bedtime, Katy.”
“Please, Ben. It’s important. You’d be helping your sister out.”
“Okay.” Ben sang in a high, off pitch voice. The words garbled together, but I forced myself to pick them out. After fifteen minutes of Ben singing, humming, and me whispering, me made it home. It might as well have been an hour.
We darted into the house; my left hand was held by Dad, and Ben was dragged by my right. We dove into the basement. The ground shook, on and off, as we huddled together. I was all sweat and tight breaths. I placed my hand over my chest, as though to put out the flutter there. Dad squeezed my shoulder. The ceiling groaned, and Ben giggled.
His ignorance was annoying, but I found myself envying him. If we lived through this, he’d always appreciate the memory. If I was lucky, I would have infrequent nightmares for the rest of my life.
The last bang was the loudest: I shrieked as we were flung to the left. The side of my face smacked the concrete. Dad sat up with a groan. Ben scrabbled to me, hugging my arm.
“Katy?” His voice quavered.
Don’t start freaking out now. “It’s okay, Ben.” Because if you freak out, I’ll freak out, and this will never stop.
I yanked Ben to his feet. My knees ached. How long had we been down here?
Dad stood, brushing himself off. Dust coated his hair. He ran a hand through it, and frowned; he rubbed his fingers together, and sighed. “I need to clean down here.”
The laughter rippled out of me. I covered my mouth. Dad rushed over; he massaged my back.
“It’s okay, Katy.”
I nodded. My mouth was dry. My heart resumed it’s nervous patter as we headed up the stairs. The house seemed too silent as we moved through it. I flicked the light switch on and off—the kitchen remained dark.
“The power is out.” My voice shook. I cleared my throat. “Do you think it’s like that everywhere?”
As we reached the dining room, I shielded my eyes: it was awash in blue light. Dad opened the french doors. Smouldering and blindingly bright, it lied three feet from our deck. It was half the size of a car, burning with blue flame.
Dad put his arms out, shielding us.
There was a pop, and a small circle in the meteor swung outwards. Something tiny and green reached out. It had three fingers!
“Uh, Dad?”
“Shh.” Dad drifted forward. “Hello?”
Following the arm, a head emerged. It had one eye, and the head moved into the body. He was the shape of a pear, his round lower half supported by two stubby feet.
Dad pushed his glasses up on his nose, something he only did when he was nervous. He rolled the sleeves up on his white dress shirt; he did that when he wanted to hide how nervous he was.
The green thing waddled up to us, eye bright. It stopped, gaze flicking between the three of us.
I jumped when it spoke: “Greetings, humans. That is the correct term, I hope? Is this an English speaking continent? I am prepared to switch to Mandarin or French if that is preferable.”
The alien began to speak in Mandarin, but Dad held up a hand.
“No, no, we speak English! This is Canada!”
“I hoped it was Canada. However, I was told that if I landed in Canada and received stupefied expressions, I was to switch immediately to Mandarin, Cantonese, or French. And, if those failed-”
“Alien!” Ben ran forward. I snatched at the air—Ben stopped a foot from the creature, beaming. “Lazer sword!”
“We’ve been getting that a lot.” The creature shrugged. “Have you met other aliens with these weapons?”
“No.” I frowned. “He means lightsabers. They’re from a film.”
“I have heard of these films.” The alien nodded. “I suppose he thinks we use flying saucers too? As if we could afford that! Meteors are a much more effective form of travel.”
“Your meteors are killing people!”
“Katy.” Dad placed a hand on my shoulder.
The alien bowed his head. “I can only apologize. It’s been two thousand years since we landed. Back then, there were far fewer structures and no cars. We tried to aim for the forests in those days, but we found, upon our arrival three days ago, that the forests had lessened considerably. It was as we feared.”
“You mean...humans are as crappy as you’d heard.” Dad swallowed.
“We have been studying your kind since you learned to use tools. We knew it was only a matter of time before you progressed to technology, and then to machines which could damage the planet. Assuming, of course, that you didn’t destroy yourselves first. It’s a surprisingly common fate for species which are supposed to be intelligent.” The alien shrugged. “We’ve catalogued at least fifteen intelligent peoples across the galaxies which have managed to blow themselves up!”
I winced. “It hasn’t been for lack of trying.”
“Ah. Your people have since discovered how to manipulate the atom, then?”
“Unfortunately yes. And only in the past hundred years.” Dad sighed. “Have you come to stop us? I’m not eager to be enslaved, but I’m sure few would complain if you took all the nuclear bombs away. I know I’d sleep better.”
“We are here only to analyze the situation.” The alien bowed. “If we deem it necessary to intervene, we will send our military. We do not mean you harm, but planets like these are incredibly rare. What’s more, we consider it our perogative to preserve intelligent species where we can, along with the animals which share their world. If we consider yourselves a threat to either yourselves or Earth, we may, of course, confiscate your weapons.”
“Take them.” I squared my shoulders. “If there are no more wars around the world, Ariel can come home.”
“Ariel?”
“My sister.” I knelt, so that I was on eye level with the creature. “She’s in the military.”
“I’m a scientist.” Dad crouched. “Do you want to talk to me? Or are you hoping to see the prime minister?”
“Emissaries have been sent to the government houses around the world. The rest of us are interested in interviewing the general populace.”
I bit my lip. “Is that safe? Not everyone is...like us. Some of your people have probably been...”
“That’s why I picked Canada, myself. I heard households there were less likely to carry firearms!” The alien chuckled. “Uh, we do have defences. A poison gas. It just knocks you out.”
“And you’re just telling us that?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I can tell if a being has evil intentions.” The alien bounced on his stubs. “You are kind people. You believe in doing the right thing.”
“We do have a gun in our house. We aren’t that different from the States.”
“I trust you.” The alien waddled past us. He reminded me of a penguin. “Will you be able to provide me with a sleeping space?”
We led the alien into the guest room. When we asked about what he ate, he shrugged and said anything would do. His people had prepared themselves for landing through inoculations and gradual exposure to our foods. I repressed my laughter when he expressed that Fancy Feast was one of his favourite brands. As he pawed through the can, our cat rubbed against him.
“So what are you going to be doing here?”
“Can you take us flying?” Ben scrabbled on to the bed.
“No, sonny. We don’t take minors into our spacecraft. We will only allow NASA personnel to look inside.” He turned to me. “I will be asking you basic questions. The state of the earth. The technology advances. The cultures of Canada. That sort of thing. I’d be happy to peruse newspapers. Or you could tell me what your current issues are.”
“And can we...ask questions in return?” Dad pushed his glasses up. “Like what your species is called, or where you come from? Or how long you plan to stay?”
“As to the last question, I do not know. It could be a month, or it could be several years. It depends on when we’re satisfied with the info we’ve gathered.”
“Our government will want to study you,” Dad said. “You must realize this. “Everyone will have questions.”
“And we are prepared to answer them. But it is late. Tomorrow, I will tell you about our home planet. But for now, I would like to sleep.”
Dad nodded.
I turned to leave, but hesitated at the door. “Are you going to share your technology with us?”
“Only when you’ve proven that you can handle yourselves.”
“But what about medical advances? You could really help us there!”
“Katy.” Dad reached for me.
“I have an aunt who’s been battling cancer for three years now. Would you be able to help her? Could you...cure what ails everyone now?”
The alien was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled. “I hadn’t considered that. If there was a way to share such technology, in a way that humans couldn’t reverse engineer it towards violent ends, then...yes. I would like to help. Back on my planet, I was a doctor of sorts. My name is Zigam, if you’re curious. Dr. Zigam Morno. I do hope my moniker isn’t overly amusing.”
I nodded. “We’ll leave you, Mr. Morno.”
The alien giggled. “It’s Mrs, actually. But that’s okay.”
“You’re a girl?”
“We’re all female where I come from. We reproduce through eating a specific plant. And then we carry for six months before giving birth. It’s a protein in the plant, something native to only our world, which stimulates the growth—in effect, fertilizing us.”
“It appears we have much to learn from one another.” Dad smiled, his eyes agleam. “We’ll let you rest.”
Mrs. Morno leaned back. “Yes, I need to sleep. Canned foods always make me extra sleepy.”
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