Aliens! Read online

  To tell you the truth, they didn’t really scream at all. I just wanted to end that last chapter with some screaming, because that’s always a nice way to end a chapter, if you ask me. They actually just sort of stared in confusion, but that would’ve been a terrible chapter ending, don’t you think? So let’s just pretend they screamed for a little bit, then pulled themselves together quite quickly, okay?

  They watched the shimmering cloud of dust, which had until very recently been the mayor, drift away on the breeze; killing a government official with an alien death ray didn’t exactly say “We come in peace.”

  As the mayor became nothing but particles, the alien he was holding fell to the ground. It bounced once on its fishbowl-like helmet, then clambered to its feet with as much dignity as it could muster, which, quite frankly, wasn’t much.

  The alien leader turned to the crowd, and in what was surely one of those all-time defining moments in history, spoke the first word ever spoken on Earth by a visitor from outer space.

  “Buttocks,” it said, much to everyone’s surprise.

  “Did he just say ‘buttocks’?” whispered Sam.

  “Sounded like it,” said Emmie.

  “Why would an alien come all this way just to say ‘buttocks’?” wondered Arty, but before he could wonder anymore, the alien spoke up again.

  “Buttox-traktai-sumalum-paktoo,” it squawked. The other two members of his little group nodded in a way that was 50 percent menacing, 50 percent just too cute.

  A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. The alien leader stared at them expectantly, clearly waiting for some sort of response. When it didn’t get one, it turned to its companions and hurriedly began to whisper.

  With two little hops, the aliens were suddenly standing one on top of the other to address the crowd at something approaching eye level. One of the minions stood on the shoulders of the other, while the leader balanced on top of him. They looked like a little blue-and-silver totem pole. All around, the audience’s cameras popped and flashed. There was even a faint smattering of applause from somewhere near the back, but it died off quickly when the alien leader flicked a switch on his helmet and began to speak. This time no one could fail to understand his message.

  “People of Earth,” he said in perfect English. His voice was surprisingly gruff for someone so small. It took everyone by surprise, as if a tiny kitten had just started to bark.

  “That switch must’ve activated a translator,” said Arty, who’d watched space movies loads of times and knew all about that sort of stuff. Emmie shushed him as the alien continued to speak.

  “We came in peace,” the alien said, and a cheer of relief went up from the crowd.

  “Came in peace,” the alien said, raising his voice. “Then your leader tried to stroke me like a pet Gagglepuss and we changed our minds.”

  The crowd stopped cheering.

  “I am Quarg, Grand High Ruler of the Baad-Vaart.”

  “I’ve been Baad-Vaarting all morning,” Sam smirked. “I think it was all those hot dogs I ate last night.”

  “We have traveled across thousands of light-years, drawn by the broadcasts of the Earthling you call Stella Gazey.”

  All eyes turned to Stella. Her wide eyes blinked rapidly, and she gave a nervous little wave to all the angry faces glaring her way.

  “Oh, well, thanks a lot,” said more or less everyone at exactly the same time.

  “She made it sound like such a nice place we decided we must come and see it for ourselves,” Quarg said. “You are extremely fortunate to have such an amazing planet. It teems with life from its deepest oceans to its highest peaks. It boasts sights unmatched in this galactic sector. It offers experiences that inhabitants of other worlds could only dream of.”

  The crowd mumbled in agreement. The Earth wasn’t that bad, actually, when you thought about it.

  “And now, it belongs to us,” said Quarg. “As of this moment, the planet Earth is under Baad-Vaart control. Do not attempt to resist.”

  “Oh yeah?” demanded an angry voice from the crowd. “Why, what are you going to do about it if we do?”

  “Shoot you in the face,” said Quarg.

  “Oh,” said the voice in the crowd. “Right, yeah. Sorry I asked.”

  “Any other questions?” asked Quarg. He cast his gaze across the audience. “No? Good. Then let the total domination of the planet begin!”

  With a deeply worrying whumming noise, several insectlike legs extended from inside the spaceship. The legs touched down onto the street. A series of tiny hatches opened and suddenly the streets were filled with hundreds of the little alien figures. They all wore identical space suits and carried weapons of various shapes and sizes, each one more deadly looking than the last.

  * * *

  Guide to Cool Cosmic Weaponry

  Alien weaponry is much better than the junk we’ve got kicking around here on Earth. I mean … spears! How boring are they? Aliens have got much better stuff in their cabinets, and here are just a few of them.

  THE RAY GUN: There are various types of ray gun available to the gun-toting alien around town today. From those that shoot concentrated blasts of laser fire to those that dissolve targets into their component molecules, there’s something to suit every murderous taste.

  THE ACCELORAGER: One blast from this highly advanced weapon will take years off your life—literally. An exposure of just one second will age your body by anything up to forty years, giving you a bald head, too many chins, and a worrying amount of hair sprouting from your nostrils.

  THE INSANITIZER: Have you ever had a tune stuck in your head that you can’t quite place but won’t go away? You know how it drove you nuts until you almost wanted to scream? Imagine that feeling a thousand times worse and you’re not even close to the effects of the Insanitizer. A single shot from this weapon will make even the most balanced individual implode in a fit of maddening frustration.

  * * *

  It finally occurred to the people of Sitting Duck that they should probably run away. They turned as one like a shoal of fish, but with legs, and began hoofing it off in every direction, fleeing as fast as they could from the blue-skinned spacemen. And probably spacewomen, too, but it’s quite hard to tell by looking at them. It’s not like any of them had beards or anything.

  Laser fire scorched the air and half a dozen fleeing townsfolk became pretty sparkles, and then became nothing at all.

  “I totally knew this was going to happen,” Phoebe snapped. “What did I say? Hang out with you three and this is what happens. First zombies, now aliens. This might sound harsh, but we totally cannot be friends anymore.”

  “Oh well,” shrugged Emmie. “The day isn’t a total write-off, then.”

  “Do not attempt to flee, Earthlings,” commanded Quarg. “You cannot escape. Allow me to demonstrate the extent of our power.”

  There was a brief flash of light from somewhere within the spaceship, followed by a sound like a cat being sucked up a vacuum cleaner. Then the air was filled with smoke and dust and dirty great lumps of rock as the Town Hall was blown to smithereens.

  The people of Sitting Duck immediately stopped running. They stood there, side by side, staring in confusion and proving my point that this really isn’t a very good way to end a chapter.

  Chapter seven

  Quarg clearly hadn’t thought his plan through. Rather than stop the Sitting Duckers from running in terror, blowing up the Town Hall just made them more determined to get away. After the initial shock had passed, they were off like a shot, clambering over fences, scrambling over walls, dashing and darting this way and that as the screams of laser fire filled the air around them.

  “Right, cut it out!” Quarg barked. “Stop running away—I’m warning you.”

  A troop of the tiny aliens advanced on Sam and the others, their little faces scrunched up into an expression halfway between menacing and adorable. They blasted wildly into the crowd, and one of Sam’s neighbors lit up like a
firework, then fizzled away to nothing.

  “This way,” Sam urged, ducking behind a chunk of the Town Hall roof just as a laser blast tore past him. Jesse clattered off with Phoebe still hanging onto his arm. Arty and Emmie stuck with Sam as he wove down an alleyway, although why he thought he had time to waste weaving with all these aliens kicking about is anyone’s guess.

  A scuffing of tiny feet told him that the ETs were giving chase. Sam snatched up a trash-can lid and raised it like a shield. A blast from an alien ray gun deflected off the metal lid and ricocheted into the air, tragically killing an entire family of geese that were flying overhead at the time and minding their own business.

  “Nicely done,” said Emmie.

  “Thanks,” said Sam.

  There was a series of loud thuds as eight crispy-fried geese rained down around them. “Where did they come from?” asked Arty.

  “Come on,” yelped Emmie, snatching up a lid of her own. “Let’s get out of here!”

  They raced along the alleyway, ducking and dodging as more laser fire streaked by. At the end of the alley, they spilled out onto Parrot’s Walk, darted past the dart shop, and found themselves knee-to-face with a dozen of the little blue creatures.

  Emmie and Sam raised their lids in time to deflect the first few energy beams. With a high-pitched squeal that would have been pretty adorable under any other circumstances, one of the aliens hurled itself at Emmie.

  She raised the lid and brought it down with a clang on the ET’s helmet. It staggered for a moment, too dazed to dodge as Emmie drew back her foot and punted it over the heads of its fellow invaders.

  “Arty, look out!” cried Sam, as another of the aliens opened fire. With a flick of his wrist, Sam hurled his trash-can lid. It sliced toward his friend, and Arty snatched it from the air just as the energy beam reached him.

  The blast bounced off the makeshift shield, back the way it had come. The alien gunman’s eyes went wide and it gave a little whimper, before exploding in a shower of glittery sparks.

  The aliens hesitated. It was just for a moment, but it was long enough for Sam and Emmie to throw themselves over a wall, dragging Arty along behind them. They heard the aliens chitter angrily, but they were too small to follow, and by the time they had hopped up onto one another’s shoulders, Sam and the others had vanished.

  “It’s not safe out on the streets,” Sam whispered. They were pressed up together behind a small garden shed, watching the invaders scuttle off in search of someone else to shoot at.

  “Oh, you think so?” said Emmie. “What gave you that idea?”

  “The aliens and stuff,” said Sam, who had never really gotten the hang of sarcasm. “Let’s go to my house. We’ll be safe there.”

  “How come we always go to your house when we’re running for our lives?” asked Emmie. “Why do we never go to my house?”

  Sam shrugged. “We can if you want. You probably want to check on Doris, I’d imagine.”

  Emmie flinched. “Let’s go to your house,” she said. “We’ll be safe there.”

  “I hope Jesse hasn’t been vaporized,” Arty said.

  Sam rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” Arty said. “It’s just that if he’s going to be blown to bits I’d like to see it, is all.”

  “Er … right,” said Sam.

  “In slow motion, ideally.”

  “You have a deeply unhealthy relationship with your brother,” Sam told him. From somewhere nearby they heard the chattering of more aliens. “Now come on, let’s get out of here while we still can.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Full-Scale Alien Defense Plans

  You’ve just had a message from the scientists back at HQ—an alien armada has been spotted zooming past Mars. It’s going to be here any minute! While your initial urge might be to run around screaming “We’re all going to die!” try not to panic yet—there may still be time to initiate your planetwide defense plan.

  You do have a planetwide defense plan, right? If not, feel free to borrow one of mine from below.

  PLAN A: Shoot Them with Nuclear Missiles. One missile alone won’t be enough, so best to fire them all to be on the safe side. The resulting explosion might well take out the Moon, but what has the Moon ever done for us? Given us werewolves, that’s what. Good riddance, I say.

  PLAN B: Hide. Using some sort of pulley system and a really long stick, we hide the entire planet behind Uranus. No one will ever think to look there.

  PLAN C: Set Up an Out-of-Planet Automatic Responder. When the aliens attempt to make contact, the automatic responder will tell them we’re not in and won’t be back until the year 2150. This will buy us more time to think of another plan.

  PLAN D: Pretend to Surrender, Then Run Away When They Aren’t Looking. Pretty self-explanatory, really.

  * * *

  It took the friends ages to make their way to Sam’s house, what with all the death and destruction and people running about screaming and stuff. When they finally barged in through the back door, they almost crashed straight into Sam’s dad.

  “Hey-ho,” he said to them, although he wasn’t sure why. He’d never said “hey-ho” before, and he was quite surprised to find himself saying it now. He’d never thought of himself as a “hey-ho” sort of person.

  From somewhere behind him there was a loud ping of advanced technology. Sam hurled himself on top of his dad, pulling him to the kitchen floor.

  “Down!” Sam yelped. “Stay down!”

  “Um … why?” asked his dad, although his voice was muffled somewhat by Sam lying across his head. “I’ll miss the film. Incidentally,” he added, “I can’t breathe.”

  Sam sat back. “Film? What film?”

  “It’s a science fiction thing,” his dad said. “It’s very realistic. I was just getting some popcorn for me and your mom.”

  Sam looked up at the microwave and realized that that was what had made the pinging sound he had heard. He got to his feet and helped his dad up. Emmie and Arty followed them as Sam’s dad grabbed the popcorn and headed through to the front room.

  “Hurry up with that popcorn,” urged Sam’s mom. She was sitting on the couch with a cushion on her lap, watching aliens shoot the place up on TV. “This is getting good. They just blew up the Town Hall.”

  “Oh, did they?” groaned Sam’s dad. “I’d have loved to have seen that.”

  “Amazing special effects,” said Sam’s mom. She turned to Sam. “I say, it’s amazing special effects. So realistic!”

  Arty cleared his throat. “Actually, Mrs. Saunders…”

  A look from Sam silenced him.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Er … I was just going to say that, um…”

  “That this film won an award for its special effects,” said Emmie.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Sam’s dad. “One of the little alien fellas shot the mayor a while back and whoosh! Gone. You could almost smell the burning, couldn’t you, love?”

  “You could,” agreed Sam’s mom. “You could almost smell the burning.”

  A panic-stricken woman with dark hair and a darker suit appeared on-screen holding a microphone. The footage flickered and the woman’s audio spat and crackled and hissed in and out.

  “… full scale invasion … Baad-Vaart … dozens dead…”

  “Oh, what’s she in?” asked Sam’s mom. “I’ve seen her somewhere before. What was it now?”

  “The news?” Sam suggested.

  “No, no, she’s an actress, isn’t she? She was in one of them hospital things or something. Oh, what was it?”

  While his mom tried to figure out what the news reporter had been in before, Sam turned his attention to the TV. The woman was no longer on the screen. Instead, the footage was coming from a camera mounted on a helicopter somewhere a few miles outside Sitting Duck.

  Sam, Emmie, and Arty stared as a flickering dome of purple energy
fizzled into life above the town. It sat there like a huge upturned bowl—a bit like the observatory, but without the massive telescope poking out the top.

  The picture changed, and suddenly the huge eyes of Stella Gazey filled the screen, with a cameo appearance from the rest of her face.

  “Hey, it’s Stella,” said Sam. “What’s she doing on the news?”

  The sound continued to crackle in and out, but Stella’s message was still easy enough to understand.

  “… sort of energy barrier … any attempts to leave or enter Sitting Duck are proving deadly … people being fried to a crisp on contact … to leave … repeat, do not attempt to leave.”

  “What is she, official alien spokesperson now?” Emmie wondered.

  “They’re barricading us in,” Arty realized. “It’s a force field. No one gets in and no one gets out. They’ve trapped everyone. It’s only a matter of time before they wipe out everyone in town.”

  “Gosh,” said Sam’s dad, scooping up a handful of popcorn and stuffing it into his mouth. “Isn’t that an exciting twist?”

  Chapter eight

  Days passed and the town of Sitting Duck went back to normal. Except, actually, it didn’t. It turned out the aliens didn’t want to kill everyone in town after all, which was nice. They wanted to enslave them instead. Which wasn’t very nice.

  The shops were still open, although the shopkeepers were all now aliens. The police still did their rounds although, now that I think about it, they had been replaced by aliens, too. It was pretty much aliens wherever you looked actually, and the school was no exception.

  Sam, Emmie, Arty, and all the other students sat in the science class listening to the teacher. Tribbler the Dribbler had been stripped of her teacher status and forced to sit near the back of the class wearing a dunce cap.