Space Invader

-o-o-o-

Space. We call it the final frontier, but it is anything but. A frontier is wild, empty, unsettled. Space, on the other hand, is wild, empty, and brimming with life.

I know it doesn’t seem so from your perspective. I know those on earth who think themselves alone in the universe. That there is no other life "out there." It is not surprising. Your perspective on what sentience even is centers on yourself.

How else could you look up at an exploding sky of stars and think it dead?

How else could you look at a man like me and lock him away?

But we’re not dwelling on that. For now, all you need to know is:

Bobby Neptune is landing.

-o-o-o-

The ship is only a few clicks into the atmosphere when everything goes to hell. Was this ship authorized for unassisted planet penetration? No. But any ship can be a planet penetrator with the right starpilot.

I run to the ship’s control panel, which is flashing a bright, angry red. The ship’s a class-9 Romarian yacht, just big enough for one bozo and his baggage. This hunk of junk was supposed to be good enough to get me to Earth. I guess I didn’t specify it had to get me there alive.

There was a time when hurtling toward Earth in a fiery blaze would put me in a mood. But I can’t help but smile.

Crash landings are what I do best.

-o-o-o-

Mike Kingsley is an ordinary man who loves one thing above all: gazing at the stars. It’d been a long day, and all Mike wanted to do was draw lines in the sky and see what shapes they made.

The stars were brightest in the tater fields. That’s where Mike is on this very special night - on a truck near some tater fields in Idaho, drinking Miller Lite, shooting the shit with a few buddies, and stargazing.

“Hey, look,” Mike says, setting down his beer and pointing at the sky. “Orion is standing on business tonight. Look at that. Incredible.”

The constellation glimmers like a string of pearls, as clear and defined as he’d ever seen it.

“That’s not Orion.” One of his buddies says. Mike almost spits out his drink. “Yeah, it is, there’s the belt!” he said incredulously.

“Then what’s that dot there, underneath it?”

Mike squinted. Yeah, there is a star that didn’t used to be there, directly below the middle star of the belt.

“I dunno. A satellite?” He says.

“Nah, that’s Orion’s butthole right there.”

The men laugh because celestial buttholes are funny. But not Mike. He's noticed something else funny.

“Hey guys,” Mike says, squinting his eyes at the sky. “Is that butthole getting bigger?”

The men squint together. Yeah, the light in the sky was expanding. All three got to their feet. The butthole was expanding rapidly in size.

“METEOR!"

"ORION’S TAKING A DUMP ON US! RUN!!”

But there was no time to run. The star was now an unidentified object hurtling from heaven directly at them.

“WHAT ABOUT THE TATERS?” One of the men yells as Mike starts running. He spins around, grabs his friend by the shoulders, and says,

“They’re Orion’s now.”

-o-o-o-

INVADERS FROM ANOTHER WORLD??? Post by Leronicus Rex, Master Watchman

Loyal sky watchers, we have a confirmed sighting of an alien spacecraft CRASH LANDING. Mainstream media is reporting it as a military exercise, BUT WE KNOW THE TRUTH. EYE WITNESSES SAW FIRE IN THE SKY. THE INVASION IS NIGH, and honestly? BRING IT ON! THE WATCHMEN STAND READY!

-o-o-o-

As crash landings go, I’ve had worse. I bring her down on abandoned farmland somewhere north of who-the-hell-cares-I’m-alive.

There’s just enough time to get out before the cockpits are engulfed in flames. A few years ago, I woulda made sure to walk slow and cool from this explosion, but I’m not a space cadet anymore. I run like a mad tarkok through farmland that I realize too late isn’t abandoned.

Four farmworkers gape at me, the blue-haired maniac running from the burning wreck. They’re in shock, but they can’t afford to be right now. “GET DOWN,” I yell as I hit dirt. The men regather their wits and join me just as fire hits fuel.

Boom. My ship explodes. A steel panel impales the ground next to me, almost taking off my arm. I pray to the gods of many earths I didn’t harm anyone. They’d put me away. Forever this time.

Miraculously, nobody was hurt. The government will cover up the crash, just like they did with my last one, just like they did with my abduction. I promise Mike that I’ll pay for the damages. After all, I crashed here for a contract. For a new legacy. For Prime.

-o-o-o-

THIRD INVADER AT PRIME??? Post by Leronicus Rex, Master Watchman

Loyal sky watchers, my inside sources confirm the owner of the extraterrestrial claims to be a human named ‘Robert Neptune’ who, get this, has just signed as a pro wrestler with PRIME. I don’t discuss this a lot on the blog. But I consider myself a bit of a Prime fan. I’ve been to every live show that’s come into town. I’ve bought out several Nate Colton merch tables. I even have a recurring dream where I eat sushi off Coral Avalon’s forehead, and he tells me I’m a good son. It soothes me.

So TRUST and BELIEVE that I will be watching ROBERT with a FINE-TOOTHED COMB. Any sense I get that he doesn’t come in peace, then sky watchers…you know what I do with invaders.

-o-o-o-

Everything I had was on that ship.

Now it's rubble, probably in some lab where they'll poke and prod at my holo-navigator, maybe try and turn it into a weapon.

They try to turn everything into a weapon. I expect that's what they'll do to me someday. They won't succeed. I've been a weapon once before, and I refuse to be again.

The farmers I almost killed turned out to be avid stargazers and took their trauma in stride. One of them, Mike, even gave me a ride to a hotel in town.

It was a good reminder that Earthlings can be decent. I needed that reminder.

The last time I competed on Earth was almost a decade ago, and I barely got out with my life. Earthlings weren't ready for the truth of the galaxy.

They locked me up. Told me I was insane. Made me think all that was left on Earth for me was hatred and madness. I see now that I was fighting in the wrong ring, trusted the wrong people. The scar it left on my mind still bleeds.

I will not make the same mistake twice. I will be on my guard this time around.

My mind will remain mine.

-o-o-o-

EXCLUSIVE EYE WITNESS INTERVIEW: Post by Leronicus Rex, Master Watchmen.

We have an EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW from one of the witnesses of the INVASION’s first landing! One Miguel Kingsley agreed to speak to me about his terrifying, extraterrestrial trial.

Leronicus: Mike, thank you for speaking with me. I know the lamestream media is ignoring you, but here, we hear you.

Mike: Uh, thanks. It was real crazy. Me and the buds were just hanging out when he crashed out of the sky.

Leronicus: And what did you do when he became hostile?

Mike: He never became hostile. Was a pretty chill guy, all things considered. I heard that he’s signed with Prime, and that makes sense in this universe. I’d root for him, but I saw he’s facing Miguel and...well, I dunno who to root for.

Leronicus: Because this Neptune kid wants to conquer the human race??

Mike: Uh, no. It's cause I’m a part of ILOMM, the International League Of Mikes and Miguels. We meet on the second Wednesday of each month and talk about our struggles over light refreshments. See, there are a lot of Mikes and Miguels and Michels in the world, and it’s important we support one another and make each other feel special. That Fred Dick seems to only care about himself. But in the League, our motto is “There is an ‘I’ in Mike/Miguel,” and I think Miguel could learn a thing or two from that. We love you, Miguel. You should too.

Leronicus: If we could get back to the alien-

Mike: Oh, he’s not an alien. Bobby’s human as they come. Kinda strange, but not malicious, just uh, detached maybe? It seemed like he was always looking past me instead of at me, you know?

Leronicus: Probably because he was scanning you for brain removal.

Mike: Look, bro, all I know is we gave him a ride into town. And after he got over his shock that we still use fossil fuels, he went on his merry way.

Leronicus: So, you think he means us no trouble?

Mike: Nope! No trouble at all.

-o-o-o-

[Directly translated from the orginal Romarian.]

Stolen - Class 9 Romarian Yacht, chrome and scarlet.

Owner - Mad.

Suspect - Aquamarine topping, alabaster covering, seven possible orifices.

Ship - Must be returned undamaged.

If damaged - Suspect is forfeit.

-o-o-o-

I am staying in something called a “Ramada” where the wifi is slow, and the rooms have no robot assistants, which would be unheard of in the Romarian Sector, but I’m making do.

Seriously, I told the bed to make itself, and it just sat there like an analog bed, which I didn’t know they made anymore. Earth truly is…quaint.

I’ve just come back from meeting with my new M’caan, Lindsey Troy. She already cuts a more impressive figure than my previous M’caan, who was more of an M’can’t to be honest. That bastard kicked me out of Orion Space Cadets for…

Well, that’s a story for when I’m drinking.

I can’t be too mad about though. If not for getting kicked out, I woulda never uh…found my spacecraft and come back to Earth.

I look out my window at an Earth sky I haven’t studied in years. It can’t be that different. All the new stars are too young for their light to reach us yet, and I count at least twenty that are already dead, their leftover light still dotting our sky.

Space is both deader and more alive than we think. But the life is what matters.

If I’m lucky, they will be watching and find me. Like they always wanted to.

See, I was alien abducted as a teenager.  And when I returned all those years ago, I discovered my parents never reported me missing.

I went to our old house, but a different family was living there. I waited and waited for them to contact me. I was on TV every week, they must've seen me. And chose to do nothing. It would fit the pattern.

But a small part of me wants to believe they just didn’t see me. That they’ve been waiting for years, desperate to hear from their son. That they never reported me missing when I was abducted by aliens because they were afraid.

But maybe, just maybe, if I become Universal Champion, they’ll see me, then they'll find me, like they always wanted to.

The hotel phone rings sharply, reminding me I need to get one of those phones that connects to the omnichip in my brain. You guys have those, right?

I pick up the ancient device and say hello to silence.

“Hello?” I say again.

A clicking noise on the other end tells me exactly who it is.

“Click-click-clack-click-clack-click.” I respond in my best Fomarian, doing my best to sound innocent.

But all I get is angry clicking on the other end. Apparently, someone stole a class 9 spacecraft and opened an illegal jump-gate to Earth. “Who coulda done that??” I click back.

The tirade of clicks I get in return means only one thing: They’re pissed, but have no evidence. Whoever did this covered their tracks too well (if I do say so myself).

It’s fine. I’m pretty sure the Fomarians won’t find me here. Like ninety percent sure. Maybe seventy. And if they do find me, they can’t prove anything.

Mike told me men in military vehicles pulled up to his farm and cleaned up the debris, just like I thought they would. I just hope no human finds out I’m a fugitive. They may get the wrong idea.

-o-o-o-

A message to Earth from Bobby Neptune.

A blue-haired, grey-eyed man in a blue militarized space suit stares past you. His blue hair crests like a wave over a face that looks like it once held a lot of innocence.

“People of Earth, I come in peace. Except for Miguel, who I am coming for.”

He levels his gaze straight at the camera.

“Miguel, I don’t know you, and truthfully, that’s a shame. Every creature of every planet has its own unique spark that gives energy to the galaxy’s pulse. You’re a part of that, Miguel. But from what I’ve seen of you, you don’t get that. You are content to live your life under the control of another. You substitute his will and thoughts for yours. I don’t know you, Miguel, and I never will because you refuse to know yourself.”

He points to himself.

“I, on the other hand, know exactly who I am. My name is Bobby Neptune. I was born on Earth. Raised among the stars. Hardened in the battle rings of Ashtari IV. Inked by the Asari masters on Titan. Signed by the high overseer of Prime, M’Caan Troy.”

He places his hand on his chest.

“Miguel, I apologize in advance. I take no joy in causing pain, despite my competence in its many applications. Just know that your pain is necessary for my ascendancy. You see, I have fought in rings across the galaxy, won belts across the universe, yet I have never won a Universal Title. I’m here to correct that. I’m here to raise that belt higher than anyone has before.”

He raises his head high and looks up.

“Prime is my final frontier. Prime is the planet I am invading. And I intended to conquer it.”