Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Invading Their Planet

By
Describing the creatures I saw as I emerged from our craft will not be easy. They were colored differently, ranging from a pale apricot to a light shade of dark brown (that sounds stupid, I know, but it was true). They stood on two legs like the wild animals we shot at home on Croca, but were easily 2-3 knotts taller than us. They were also eerily symmetrical. They had two arms, two legs, two light sensors (called eyes), two ears, and one odor sensor, main sound emitter (that was all they used it for, to my knowledge), one torso and one abdomen. I know all this sounds impossible, but it is as true as this paper in your hands (the paper, not the words. Wait, no, AND the words).

I walked down the ramp spread majestically before me, my four limbs moving gracefully in motion to and unheard beat. I stood before these enormous creatures, and asked in a demanding voice, “Don’t fight us. We will undoubtedly win. It will not be worth the trouble.” However, it must have come out wrong, because the hideous beings began to emit a large, booming sound like our natural predators, the Lupus Canis.

Then an apparently more compassionate one bent down and said with a very thick accent, “The money from ran space.”

“You bloody worthless native,” I replied, “I only wish to make peace between our races.”

“Your probable running shall over emit,’ replied the native. The suddenly not-so-compassionate native turned to the other bug-eyed natives and said in English, “It’s just a cat. It can’t do any harm.”

I was insulted. My entire race’s honor had been soiled, and I wasn’t even sure if the native meant it. I knew just enough of the foreign tongue to understand the insulter, and to get my message across. “YOU STUPID HUMAN!” I screamed. “I AM NOT A CAT! I AM A MEMBER OF THE CROCATTIAN ARMY, STAR FLEET NUMBER-”

That got their attention, although I didn’t finish. The insulting native came over to me, closed my mouth and whispered calmly in English, “You are not helping to calm down the crowd.”

“I know. I do not know if you are aware, but you cannot speak our language. You have insulted my race’s honor. Would you prefer death for you or death for your entire species, DAHLING?” I asked, sounding much too sweet and kindly to be at all serious.

“If I choose death for my entire species, will you all die like in War of the Worlds?” He said hopefully.

“Face facts, bozo,” I said with much dignity, “Our sanitation level is at least 10 times that of THOSE inexperienced invaders. We regularly wash all of our appendages and actually obey the sanitation standards set by the Ministry of Health. It was their own fault they all turned to stone or whatever.”

“But will I die if I choose death for my entire species?” he had the nerve to ask.

“Seeing as you are right in front of me and I would start the revolution, yes,” I retorted wittily.

“What if I just take it back?” the useless native asked, “Or what if I said I was sorry? Does that count for anything?”

I sighed heavily. “Would that solve anything if you were talking to a Klingon?” I asked with enough sarcasm to be Steve Martin.

That got him. My dry sarcasm just got through his skull. He only had the nerve to say one thing: “Maybe if I just drop kick you, no one will know if I accidentally insulted your honor.”

My eyes narrowed as my ears moved back in a way that would imply that I was not happy. “You wouldn’t dare,” I said with enough menace in my tone to scare Stephen King, “We have enough ships back home to cover this entire planet’s surface. It would be doomsday at its finest. Your entire race would be dead in” I never finished the sentence. My sleek and slim physique was then hoisted up by the weak human, flung towards the ground and intercepted by a kick with enough force to send me flying. I landed masterfully on all fours, albeit at least 75 knotts away (my handsome body IS incredibly light). As I got up, I swore revenge. I also repeated it to everyone I saw on my way back to the ship. I even issued one of those annoying tornado-watch style warnings that starts with the beeps that successfully prevents you from hearing something important on the news and any other television stations I could find along the way. I would at least give these stupid organisms of some kind some fair warning before blowing their planet to shreds.

I got back into the ship, and the aroma of lemon scented Beat-Back (you would call it Oust) nearly overwhelmed me. I quickly coughed and briskly walked to the commanding officer’s desk. This was odd, because he had just relocated to the middle of the hallway. “A little more like a sit-com. It would please me”. That was his only reasoning. I felt silly standing there as people walked around me, wondering what I wanted with the captain.

“OUT WITH IT, WHIPPERSNAPPER!” my captain cried. That was the largest of his many faults. He was into the ‘Discipline by Disciplining All Behavior’ approach to running a ship. It was with great dread and defiance that I asked him my latest question.

“I have a small problem, sir,” I said, still with plenty confidence.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I ALWAYS SAY ABOUT PROBLEMS, YOU KNOW!” he shouted in response. “ALL PROBLEMS CAN BE SOLVED IN THE SAME WAY: BY SHOUTING AT THEM VERY LOUDLY THROUGH YOUR GUT LIKE I AM until THEY GO AWAY! HERE, YOU TRY IT!”

That was his way of saying please. In other words, I wouldn’t have a chance to unleash the entirety of the Crocattian race’s power on these weak aborigines for a very obnoxiously long time. Luckily, among other things, I was gifted with the blessing of patience. I sighed quietly, but still quite exasperatedly, and began the ordeal.

“I AM SOLVING THE PROBLEM I HAVE BY SCREAMING AT IT VERY LOUDLY, SIR!” I said in what was still a calm and handsome voice. Yeah, right, I thought, the only thing that can stop this problem is big guns and intergalactic conquest. My commander, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“VERY, VERY BAD!” he yelled. “MY NEICE COULD DO BETTER THAN THAT! TRY AGAIN!”

“I AM YELLING LOUDER AND HARDER THAN BEFORE BECAUSE MY PROBLEM WILL GO AWAY IF I DO, SIR!” I shouted louder than before, losing all signs of my former serenity and handsomeness, but remaining just as intelligent and debonair as before.

“IT’LL HAVE TO DO, I SUPPOSE. WELL, SCOUT? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM AND WHY DIDN’T YELLING AT IT WORK?”

“ONE OF THE NATIVES I TALKED TO INSULTED THE ENTIRE CROCATTIAN RACE’S HONOR!” I reported diligently and dutifully.

“RIGHT, RIGHT! AND WHY DIDN’T YELLING WORK?” he said in his best persuasive voice.

“THE NATIVES ARE STUPID AND NOT WILLING TO LISTEN TO SOMEONE WHO IS SHORT AND 4- LEGGED!” I replied, suggesting that we should unleash our weapons. “IT IS INDEED A PROBLEM, NO?”

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT I ALWAYS SAY ABOUT PROBLEMS, DON’T YOU? YOU JUST HAVE TO YELL AT THEM VERY LOUDLY THROUGH YOUR GUT LIKE THIS UNTIL THEY GO AWAY!”

“YES, BUT I FEAR-“ I was cut off by his rumbling voice. Apparently he didn’t care if I had already tried that tactic. It didn’t work.

“THAT IS WHAT WE WILL DO! WE WILL YELL AT THESE CREATURES UNTIL THEY EITHER SAY THEY ARE SORRY OR FIGHT BACK!” He attempted to say jovially. He nearly broke the intercom he then shouted into. “ATTENTION, CREW! GET READY FOR SOME SERIOUS YELLING! THE CROCATTIAN RACE’S HONOR HAS BEEN SOILED! WE ARE GOING TO GO INTO SERIOUS YELL MODE UNTIL THEY APOLOGIZE COMPLETELY OR DECIDE TO FIGHT US! LET’S HOPE FOR THE LATTER, HMMM?” Then, unfortunately for my lovely self, it appeared as though something huge dawned on him as he looked away from the intercom and shut I off. “YOU DIDN’T PASS THROUGH SANITATION, DID YOU? NO, YOU DID NOT! I JUST KNOW IT! THAT’S A PROBLEM, ISN’T IT?” Here he thankfully closed his eyes, I think to be alone with his thoughts. “YOU KNOW WHAT I ALWAYS SAY ABOUT PROBLEMS, YOU KNOW! ALL PROBLEMS CAN BE SOLVED BY-” At that point I decided to leave. I began inching away until I was sure he wouldn’t hear the sound of my graceful escape.

I was sure that he was kidding about needing to go through sanitation, but as I was making my way to my designated post, others gave me a look as if to say, ‘What is wrong with that handsome guy?’ and ‘Why does that lovely guy have THOSE?’ Not wanting to disappoint them, I returned with the look that said, “No need to worry, everything about me is quite alright.” However, by the time I got to my designated post, not everything was quite all right. Everyone else in the room stared at me while I said, “No need to tell me, I know where everything is, even the doctor.” Then I lost my firm grip on reality for a few seconds.

When I woke up, I was still on the floor. It felt like I had been stepped on a few times, and nobody was staring anymore. I rose elegantly, despite the new bruises, and briskly walked my way to the ship’s doctor. No one in the hall looked at me so incredulously, so I could get down there with little trouble. When I got there, however, everything was a little bit different. With my quick mind, I determined the problem. We were ready for a battle.

I got to the sick bay registration window and asked the teller in a very sweet and persuasive voice, “Yes, I’m the scout that got a little sick when I came back from the planet. I need to see the doctor for just a few minutes.”

“Oh, that scout?” the receptionist asked rhetorically. “Trust me, we know you. We gave you a cure while you were unconscious. You don’t need to see the doctor.”

“Very funny. I still feel awful and would like it very much to see the doctor.” The conversation continued like that with both of getting more and more frustrated, but still keeping the calm façade until eventually, the receptionist gave in.

“If you really want to see him, okay!” She screamed. “He’s sleeping right now, but I can schedule you in for 4:00 tomorrow!” Now she calmed down a little. “I mean, if that’s alright.”

I smoothly glanced up at the clock. “Is that 4:00 morning or evening?” I calmly inquired.

“Evening, dear.” She said dear with enough sweetness in her voice that it didn’t sound at all convincing.

“Ha ha ha. I’ll be back in half an hour for the 4:oo in the MORNING appointment.”

“You can if you want to, but no one will be here but me, ‘dear’.”

I frowned. “Mind if I go home and catch some sleep?” I asked.

“We ask that all patients remain in the waiting room in case a change in scheduling should occur.” She said with gleeful malice in her tone.
With a defeated sigh, I trudged over to a bench to wait for the next 12 and 1 half hours. I managed to get some sleep before the 7:00 ready-for-battle early wake-up call, but was stopped short when I got up to go get some breakfast.
“Did you forget that we ask our patients to wait should a change in schedule occur?” she asked ‘sweetly’.
“Let’s face it, the only way a change in schedule will occur is if you decide to give me a later appointment. Besides, the doctor will be eating too so I’ll probably end up having my appointment in the hall.”
The day progressed normally as we prepared ourselves for a retaliation battle. Nothing of much interest occurred until I suddenly realized it was 4:30 in the afternoon. I decided that since I felt fine now, I probably wouldn’t need the appointment. Of course, then the doctor came charging in through the door, demanding I come to his office at once.
“HELP, HELP!’ he cried to everyone in earshot. “A patient has failed to appear! I fear for the patient’s life, and more importantly, MY JOB!”
Luckily for me, the intercom came on, cutting the hysterical doctor short.
“HELLO EVERY BODY!’ our eccentric captain shouted, distorting the sound. “NOW AS YOU KNOW, WE HAVE BEEN IN BATTLE MODE THESE PAST FEW DAYS. WELL, NOW THAT WILL CHANGE, ALTHOUGH ONLY IN YOUR MINDS. YOU SEE, WE ARE GOING TO ENGAGE IN QOUTE-UNQOUTE COMBAT! BE GLAD! STARTING IN ABOUT 0001 HOURS OR HOWEVER YOU SAY A MINUTE IN THIS FREAKY STYLE OF TALKING, WE WILL BE LEAVING THE SHIP TO OUR DESIGNATED POSITION AND PROCEEDING TO SCREAM AT THIS PROBLEM! BUT ANYWAY, WE WILL ALL GO OUTSIDE AND START SCREAMING AT THIS PROBLEM UNTIL IT GOES AWAY! MINUTE STARTS NOW!”
There was a mad rush of movement, and the next thing I knew, I was outside, in the ‘front lines’ of the Crocattian-style guerilla tactics, screaming my guts out. It is surprising now, how little of it I remember, because it seems like on of those things that would stick around haunting you forever. But I only vaguely remember running about the enormous city, yelling at anyone who crossed my path. Then I remember the order coming in on my radio headset to stop yelling and start attacking. I was filled with joy, until I suddenly nailed in the ribs by an unidentified object. I couldn’t see anything and as I lay there, stoically handling the pain, expecting my life to flash before my eyes. The last thing I remember was wondering how long it would be until anything came along and saved or killed me.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback