Veezee: The Invasion
by
Clyde Key
Copyright 2009 Clyde Key
Veezee: The Invasion
The world had waited for this day for most of one hundred years. Now, millions of people were camped along the highways in the California desert, hoping to see the visitors when they arrived. Millions more were in the mountains, curious but fearful of the newcomers.
Although many did not believe before, it had been obvious for the past two weeks that the visitors’ arrival was imminent because their retrorockets gleamed brighter than any stars in the nighttime sky. On the eve of arrival, spectators in the Americas saw a brilliant display of blue flames clustered in nine huge ovals spread across the sky from the east horizon to the west. The spectacle was so bright that it lit even clouded night skies.
* * *
The signals had first been received in October of 2011 at the radio astronomy station in Arecibo. The weak signals drew attention first because their wavelength was unusual for the dark portion of sky from which they had been received. Previously published charts of that part of the sky listed no radiation of any similar nature so the new signals excited astronomers. And then after several weeks, the large computers at Arecibo began to find repetitions of complex patterns in the signals. After reviewing the data, almost all scientists believed these signals to be the first communication from intelligent beings outside our own solar system.
The strange pulses produced clicks and buzzes when they were played on an audio transducer, but when analyzed, each click was found to contain hundreds of amplitude steps. Then it was discovered that identical copies of the individual pulses might be received in repeating patterns, or completely at random. Some 120,000 unique pulses had been identified over a period of a few years, and these came in combinations that scientists believed were compositions of thought—conversations—in an alien language.
In 2021, a startling discovery was made by computer analysis. It was learned that the transmissions, which consisted of billions of bits of information, started over on an exact repetition every 47 hours, 33 minutes, and 12.23 seconds—very much like a recording was being played for us. The next obvious step was to transmit the message back to space with the most powerful transmitter that could be devised within a short time frame. Four and one half years later, in the fall of 2025, the sequence of pulses changed.
What other explanation could there have been except that our transmissions had been received and acknowledged by some one—or something—at a distance from us of two and a fourth light years?
* * *
The first rays of dawn light on September 28, 2112 found Ed Halloran and about a thousand other campers watching the sky from a vantage point in Needles City Park, five miles west of the Needles, California metropolitan district. Ed, southwest regional administrator with the Alien Anti-Bigotry Commission, was there in an official capacity. It was his job to control the throngs gathered along the old highway, to prevent untoward incidents from marring our world’s first direct contact with aliens from another solar system, if those aliens should pass through Halloran’s district after landing on earth. But nobody had ever explained to Ed just how to control the masses.
Accompanying Ed was his assistant at AABC, Marilee Sharp. Marilee’s position was Protocol Specialist. Her job’s primary function was to supply Ed with all the facts he needed in order not to embarrass himself, the US government, or our planet if contact should be made first in the Needles District.
When the sun was well above the horizon, daylight became bright enough to render the approaching rocket blazes invisible in the blue sky. Halloran paced behind the ropes that separated the paved park from the surrounding desert.
“Nearly a hundred years we’ve know that they were coming,” he grumbled. “You’d think they would at least have the landing time figured out by now.”
“Maybe they didn’t want us to know when they would arrive,” said Marilee. “They might be afraid of us.”
“Nah. Couldn’t be. They’re so far advanced, they could wipe us out in seconds. That might even be what they’re planning.”
Marilee’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that! Don’t even think that! If the Commissioner heard you say anything like that, he’d boot you right out of the Commission—and you couldn’t get another government job!”
“You needn’t worry. No matter what I think, I wouldn’t...” Ed’s voice trailed off as his eyes detected the rocket flames high in the sky above the desert. “They’re here. Just about.”
“Yes, they are!” Marilee’s voice quivered. “They said the aliens are supposed to be on the ground within ten minutes of the time they become visible.”
By this time, the people crowding the park all knew the aliens’ rockets had been sighted. The din of campers dismantling tents and packing gear into their floater transports suddenly turned to heavy silence as people dropped their activities and lined up against the rope barrier.
Then Ed saw the rockets coming down. Hundreds—perhaps thousands—of long silvery tubes, riding on longer plumes of flame, settled slowly toward the desert plain. Ed gasped and the crowd broke again into an excited roar when the rocket flames touched ground. Flame spread horizontally from each, searing the ground and everything on it for a thousand meters around. The exhaust from the fleet of spaceships ravaged the desert as far as Ed could see. Flame, smoke, and ash boiled upward in great swirling red and black clouds. When the flame died back, smoke continued to roll and winds generated from the fierce heat began to pick up charred desert sand and whip it into the mixture. Within three minutes, the western sky had turned black, and the blackness began to drift northward.
Panicking campers jammed the park exits as they raced away from the scene of desert destruction. Most left their camp gear half packed and lying around in huge piles of clutter on the park floor. Transports raced for the park gates, and when there were too many for the gates some of them went over the fences.
Marilee stared at the devastation through flowing tears and sobbed. “Didn’t they know this would happen? Somebody had to know! Why didn’t they stop them?”
Ed fought back rage as he took Marilee’s arm and pulled her toward the AABC transport van. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here in case the wind changes.”
Two hours later, Ed and Marilee were at the commission’s branch office in Flagstaff watching news telecasts on the big wallscreen. They had been unable to communicate with any AABC offices or any other government agency and, until just then, had been unable to learn anything from news reports. There was no information coming from the area of the landing but reporters conjectured about the reasons. One newscast chief suggested the aliens may have attacked and destroyed the government contingent that was sent to greet them. “But America should not panic,” he advised viewers. “That simply is one possible explanation for all this confusion and we believe it is highly unlikely.”
A numb Ed Halloran shook his head in disbelief at the frightened reporter. “If he doesn’t want the country to panic, he shouldn’t go telling everybody we’ve been attacked by space aliens!”
Then shortly after 10 a.m., another reporter’s somber face came on the screen. “We finally have an official government communique. We have not—I repeat, not—been attacked. However, there has been a great tragedy. Although scientists had feared there might be some damage to landing sites from retrorockets on the alien spacecraft, no one expected the devastation that occurred today. Nor did anyone expect the cloud of toxic fumes that came out of the landing and apparently has killed everyone in its path, including President McKendrick, First Vice President Warner, Second Vice President Bentley, and their staffs.”
“They should have known,” said Marilee.
“They should never have allowed aliens to land on Earth.”
“How could they have stopped them? It’s been seventy-five years since the world was disarmed, and there never were enough missiles to have stopped this anyway.”
The newscreen picture changed and they saw a group of people gathered on the steps of the Presidential Mansion at Camp David. Third Vice President Clarice Litton was being sworn in as the new president while an unidentified voice described the event in muted tones. “The swearing-in took place a few minutes ago in great secrecy at Camp David and, for security reasons, President Litton has departed for an unknown location.”
That scene faded, replaced by the grave face of reporter Andrea Wilkes who brought more news about the toxic cloud. “The cloud is beginning to thin as it spreads, but it is still lethal to all living beings in its path. The Interior Department estimates that at least ten million people have died already and the cloud likely will go all the way into Canada before it becomes less than lethal. Our hearts go out to the millions of people who will not be able to escape.”
Then another reporter brought the information that all of the other eight landings had produced similar toxic clouds with tragic result. The world was in mourning for at least a quarter of a billion people dead.
According to the reporter, there had still been no contact with the aliens who had not left their spacecraft.
“What are we going to do?” asked Marilee. “Are we supposed to make contact with them?”
“I don’t know. We were supposed to control the crowds and let the chiefs get the glory. But now the crowds are all scared off and all the chiefs are dead—at least all the chiefs around here are dead.”
The picture on the wallscreen changed and Ed and Marilee recognized it before the news reporter began describing the scene. Even though the wind was carrying the toxic cloud away, the half million panicked residents of Needles were trying to leave the area in a stampede of floater transports. Blocked in by the traffic, many had foolishly left the highway and tried to float across the rough terrain. Wrecked transports littered the desert on either side of the highway.
“We’d never get there,” said Marilee. “Traffic is coming out on both sides of the highway.”
“Yeah. Somebody must have torn down the WrongWay Repellers. Good idea.”
They watched the screen change to other scenes of devastation as reports began to come in from other parts of the world. They learned that similar exoduses were happening at every other landing site. Population centers that hadn’t been annihilated by the fumes were rapidly emptying.
“Nobody is making contact,” said Ed. “We’ve got to go!”
“But how? You saw the traffic!”
“We’ll use a high level floater from the Gpool, and we’ll travel over the top!”
“Those aren’t legal for highway use,” said Marilee.
“Neither is floating on the wrong side of the highway!” said Ed.