1) I do not watch any sc-fi shows, in fact, i'm not in the loop at all so please be nice.(i'm trying)
2) I'm not someone who likes fantasy or hard core sci-fi. alien socities are interesting. but my life isn't based around it.
3) I am writer trying out aliens for the first time--i normally write fanfics, real world fiction, and just plain fiction. this is one of my first fantasy stories in a long time.
The story does not have a name. But the idea was inspired in science class:
i was sitting and doodling in science, listening to my teacher drone on about the weather when i thought hit me: They SAY that weather is nature based, they say that rains come from...the earth.....but, what if they were all wrong?? What if aliens made the weather?! What if all the U.F.O's were part of the Windmill Corp., that makes the weather for alien races and humans???
with that said...
“Yes sir, launching in one minute,”
Captain Travis Coolidge paced swiftly back on and forth on the metal bridge, his fitted boots clanking loudly. A small microphone attached from his ear to his lips comfortably (latest technology on the market,), making it able to communicate with his first mate. The bridge overlooked the main Deck A of the alien ship Alabaster, swaying softly and surveying the commotion and chaos below as ship workers tightened the ropes and cables connecting to Alabaster’s Wings. The Wings were Alabaster’s pride and glory. Extending 157 feet out, they were like giant bed sheets tied with string to Alabaster’s rigging. The wind made ripples and waves in the Wings as they were pulled tight by the ropes and secured safely. The Wings acted like what they were called: Wings. They suspended Alabaster high in the air, and with
“Ready for launch?”
“Counting down, Captain,”
The Captain extended his right arm rigidly out and made a fist in the direction of a female Cyborg and a young, boyish looking man, with blinding white hair standing stiffly next to the Rocket, and the Cyborg nodded. The Rocket was positioned in front of the poop deck, resting on the large plank sitting in the air. The plank rocked slowly in the wind.
The fist is always the signal…
The man, Linus, smiled deviously and took hold of the Rocket’s positioning wheel. He spun it, left, right, and watched the small screen in front of him and until he was satisfied with the Rocket’s line of fire.
“Is Linus ready, Viola?”
The Cyborg thrust a thumb up in the air as Linus smiled, flipping his white hair arrogantly. The Captain saluted Viola as Linus cheered.
“Let’s crash this baby!” shouted Linus, grabbing a long lever connecting to a hostile looking device that held the Rocket straight into the clouds, and pushed down. Linus and Viola stuck their fingers in their ears, as the Rocket took off a bang, speeding far up into the white clouds. It spun up for about a mile, was stopped, and started dropping very, very quickly. Between the fast moment of stillness and then the plummeting the Rocket let out an enormous jet of a black substance, perhaps dust. The substance formed a small dark cloud. As the Rocket began to spiral downward toward the planet beneath Alabaster, the cloud started to expand and grow darker and damper.
“The precipitation levels are rising!” yelled Linus as he and Viola and the Deck Crew of ten ran down the stairs and underneath the bridge and down into Deck B. The winds quickened their pace as the flags blew rapidly.
The cloud was dropping lethargically, taking its’ time as Viola quietly found her place next to the Captain.
“How’s it forming?” asked the Captain, rubbing his white gloves and wrapping his navy blue coat around him tighter as the wind levels rose and the air became more moist. His chestnut colored beard flipped madly in the wind.
“Normal, sir. Rain will commence above the Northern Hemisphere, at BOS 42.37 latitude and 71.03 longitude,” said Viola, checking the tracking device out of her arm.
“Fantastic. How long before reaching its’ destination?”
“Approximately 20 minutes,”
“Then it’s time to catch the rocket, Viola,”
This is how it worked on the Alabaster. Alabaster was just one of the many ships working at the Windmill Corporation to create the weather for the planets. The Alabaster model was one of the more old and rough ships to pilot. It still required rigging and ropes and cables, and compared to some of the newer versions of the Alabaster (the navigation system worked the same, the ship was just shaped like a silver saucer), Alabaster was an antique.
The routine was different according to which weather was being created. The Alabaster’s assignment for the week was thunderstorms. It was simple: launch the Rocket, which creates an expanding cloud hovering above its destination. When the Rocket starts to fall, the Alabaster’s retrieval-crew catches it in a large net with cable wiring so the Rocket won’t break through. Once the Rocket is secured in its’ launching cartridge, the Alabaster flies straight on to its’ next city to make more weather. The Windmill Corp.’ goal was to keep Earth alive. Earth was completely fine early off, until engines were created and Earth became polluted. Usually, the Windmill Corp. went to other planets to nurture alien races, but now that Earth’s atmosphere was beginning to fail, Jillian Cattatric, alien president of the Windmill Corp. sent Alabaster to stop the smog destroying Earth’s natural evolution. Weather was an ideal key for the human race. With rain, their species flourished. Without weather, the planet would die.
The retrieval-crew promptly found their positions on Alabaster’s launching pad, holding outward a metal circular ring with netting. The hoop would be thrown out into the air just as the Rocket would come down. The hoop was connected to a large cable, which would be used to reel the hoop back to the ship once the Rocket was in the net. The crew was elite—they always got the Rocket just on target in the netting.
“On my signal!” shouted Viola, three iron fingers raised into the air. The crew grasped the hoop tightly, extending their arms and bending their knees. “Three, two, and go!”
Pam Canton was biking furiously over branches and rotting twigs in the Newton Cemetery. She didn’t understand why the authorities were so keen on catching the culprit of a cemetery break in. It was an abandoned cemetery; nothing unexpected could happen. All Pam had planned to do was visit her Great-Aunt’s gravestone. She hadn’t intended to break the law, but apparently there was still security at Newton’s Cemetery.
It was going to rain soon, Pam could tell, from the dark menacing cloud that hung in the sky and covered the sun. Switching her gears as she reached a hill, she pedaled up and over to find a rotting wooden bridge in her path, the bolts rusted over from years of neglect. There was a small pond underneath the old bridge, and in front of the pond there was the back gate out of the cemetery. Pam could hear the police cars a few minutes away, obviously searching for a juvenile who broke into the abandoned property. There was no way around the pond and she needed to get out fast. Swearing, Pam jumped off her bike and started to push it up and across the bridge. The bridge creaked a bit with every step Pam took, and she slowed down. One more step, one more creak. Suddenly, she stepped to hard on the bridge and the wood cracked. Pam fell into the pond, her bike on top of her just as the authorities turned the corner. As she fell, a small, black and gold object flew to the ground behind the trees.
It started to rain.
“Yes…yes, we found her…No, she wasn’t with anyone…Her bike was on top of her body, she nearly drowned…No, no motive…and, oh wait, hold on—”
Too many noises.
The doctors and police were all present, as well as Pam’s family. Her eyes opened for the first time in hours in the Children’s Hospital of Boston. She was lying on a stretcher, her head bleeding through bandages as a policeman approached her. He was carrying a walkie-talkie, which he immediately placed in his belt as soon as Pam showed a sign of life.
“Help…?” croaked Pam as the policeman signaled a doctor. Loraine squinted as she gazed up at the blazing lights.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” said the doctor as her stretcher was pushed into a smaller quieter room. Pam tried to sit up, but the doctor gently pushed her shoulders down.
“I want to see my family,” whispered Pam, squirming beneath the hospital blankets.
“They are outside. Now is not the time to see them. The authorities want to ask you some questions. Please try to cooperate, even under the circumstances of your concussion,”
Pam shut her eyes and sighed angrily.
A policewoman approached her stretcher with a notepad in hand. She was African-American, and she wore a tight bun plastered to the back of her head. Her makeup was to old for this era, thought Loraine as she sat down on a white stool and whipped down a pen.
“Now,” she started, jotting down a few notes, “I’d like to know what you were doing in an abandoned cemetery, dear,”
“I just wanted to see my Great-Aunt’s gravestone, that’s all. I wasn’t doing anything illegal, so don’t even assume for one second that—”
The policewoman held up her arms in defense.
“Slow down, missy, the police don’t think you’re some shoot-and-run criminal here. But we’ve had many juvenile break-ins in the few months. You have to understand the motive of interrogation, sweetie,”
Pam held up her middle finger.
“Police or no, you don’t call me sweetie, kay’?”
“We can try you as an adult,”
“You wouldn’t dare,”
“I’ll do everything in my power to do so,”
Pam rolled on to her side as the policewoman left. Pam was tough, but underneath that rock hard skin, Pam felt helpless. Trapped in a world full of idiots. The one thing she wanted to do was just leave. Pam didn’t care where or when, the point was to escape. She didn’t hate her family—but to her, they were suffocating and nothing else. Suffocating like a big, black rain cloud masking the sun.
“What are we going to do?!” yelled Linus frantically, “In all that is holy and pure, how the fuck are we going to explain this to the Captain?”
Linus was pacing frantically in his cabin as Viola was hovering beside him, thinking hard.
“I don’t know,” she groaned, “You’re the head of the retrieval crew, not me! This wasn’t my fault!”
“Sure it was!” yelled Linus, throwing is arms in the air. “You counted down!”
“Oh, would you shut your mouth, for once, Linus?!” said Viola, swinging her arm toward his nose while Linus bent backward smoothly.
“It’s the eyes,” he said, smirking, pointing at his pitch black and pupil less eyes, “I can always see your rusty arm coming before you even think about hitting me—”
“My arm is not rusty, you son of a bitch, and I could blow you off you’re feet with my jet pack before even raised an eyelid!”
“Oh yeah?” said Linus, spreading his arms open and jumping on the cabin table, “Bring it own, you waste of metal—”
At that moment, Captain Travis slammed open the door as Linus and Viola rushed hastily side by side, saluting him.
“Oh, spare me the goddamn dramatics and explain to me what happened!” said the Captain angrily, shutting the door softly with a rotten expression mingling on his face.
“We don’t know, sir,” muttered Linus, his hand still intact with his face, “We just missed, it’s the only logical explanation, sir,”
“Oh please!” said the Captain, drawing up a chair and cradling his face in his hands, “How do I tell this to President Cattaric?”
Viola placed a comforting hand on the Captain’s shoulder.
“We can cover for you, sir, we’ll find a way to sort this out,” said Viola soothingly.
“I wish,” muttered the Captain, “It’s not as simple. Someone on Earth was bound to notice the Rocket making contact with the ground. It’s probably all over their media now,”
“Probably,” said Linus, shrugging, as Viola glared at him.
“We could bring it back,” suggested Viola, “We could get a team down their from the Windmill base,”
“No use,” croaked the Captain, “It would cost me my stripes,”
“We could get it, sir,” said Linus, cocking an eyebrow.
“And how do you suppose we do that, Linus? Get a few costumes; dab a little make-up here and there? We’re aliens to them, Linus! How do you explain a man with blazing white hair and no pupils, and a woman who has one arm and two legs made of metal?! For goodness sake, Captain, you’re part monkey!” raged Viola.
All three sighed. The Captain scratched his forehead.
“We could try that,” said the Captain softly.
“Are you out of your mind?” said Viola.
“Perhaps,” said the Captain, “But it’s our only hope now,”
“Fine,” muttered Viola, crossing her arms. “Where do you suppose we should start?”
“Well, we ought to get some human clothes, that’s for sure,” said Linus.
“You mean you ought to get some clothes,” said the Captain, “I’m sending you two down and that’s that. I’ll find someone to fill in your position as first mate, Viola, and a crew member won’t need to navigate the Rocket now that’s it’s on Earth,”
Linus cackled and Viola sighed.
“This is going to be insane,” she said, frowning.
“This is going to be fun,” snickered Linus, rubbing his hands together.
“We’ll dye your hair Linus, and get you some blue contacts. You’ll be handsome by morning,” said the Captain, standing up and straightening his suit.
“Calling Linus handsome is an insult to anything that breathes…” muttered Viola.
“We’re going to have to get along, now that we’ll be going together on Earth, Viola,” chortled Linus, putting his arm around the her metal waist.
“It’ll be like a date,” he cooed, as Viola made a face. The Captain quietly left.
“You touch me again, I’ll send you home in a package. No air holes,” Viola said coldly.
“You’re like a snake, baby. Close enough to touch but if you try, you get bitten,”
“Are you implying that I’m immune to your pathetic attempts to get laid, Linus?”
“You know you want me, Viola—”
Viola whipped out her Jacker410, from her plastered-on belt, and held it dangerously close to Linus’ ear.
“You didn’t see that coming with your damn eyes, you dirty pig?! I swear this is loaded, bitch,”
“Cool your jets, babe—I ain’t that good lookin’!” laughed Linus.
“You ain’t good looking at all, Linus. You are a pathetic excuse for an extra terrestrial. One more word and I will blast your head into a bloody pulp…”
“Grr, like a tiger! Roar again, babe!”
Linus heard the gun starting to warm up with a small ding.
“You have no idea how hot this makes me…” said Linus pleasantly, smiling.
“I know hot you’ll be when your hair’s on fire…” grumbled Viola, placing her finger on the trigger.
Linus smirked and crossed his arms.
“You don’t have the guts, Viola. Half robot or no, you couldn’t hurt me,”
“You know trespassing is illegal?” It was a week after the accident, and Pam and Jimmy (her best friend ever since she stopped him from eating worms in the second grade) were sitting on the curb drinking lattes and tea from the local coffee shop. She didn’t care that Jimmy was two years older than her—that only meant he could sneak her some cigarettes (not that Pam smoked. She liked holding the rolls of people because she felt sophisticated) or some lottery tickets.
“I know it’s illegal. I just didn’t think they would get all fucking pissy over an abandoned cemetery,”
“You got hurt. It’s dangerous with all the broken bridges and hills,” murmured Jimmy, pointing at the bulging bandage on her forehead.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,”
“Are they pressing charges?” asked Jimmy, slurping that last of his drink.
“No, I mean, how could they? I got hurt, didn’t I? You’d think that’s punishment enough,”
The two stood up and started walking down the street. It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting in the sky.
“Wanna hit the den?” asked Pam.
“Sure,” said Jimmy, putting his arm around Pam’s shoulder. She put her arm around his shoulder and they laughed, turning the corner and walking down small stairs in a dim lighted alley. The alley lamps were a soft, eerie, transparent blue, and it gave the alley an interesting, calm atmosphere. Jimmy and Pam passed under a large homemade metal sign. It spelled, “WELCOME TO THE DEN,”
Jimmy opened a miniscule door on the side of the brick wall, walking into a smokey room with a low brown ceiling. There were a miz of people, sitting and standing, eating or talking calmly. They were white, they were black, they wore red, they wore green, some could song and others did collages.
The Den was an underground cult of local artists, musicians, and just creative people. You didn’t get in unless you know the owner (a senior in high school, lead singer in the band Lead Away,) personally and had some talent. This wasn’t one of those teen centers were drugees and idiots and intolerant bastards would pollute the place with their presence. No, everyone here knew everyone else through some thin connection, everyone here was cool and stylish and chic and very casual. It was heaven for those escaping real life, who wanted a breath of fresh air. . Here, you could just be yourself and paint, draw, talk, sing, or whatever. Here, inspiration was life. The Den was a haven for the gifted.
Jimmy and Pam sat a small round table in the corner (all the furniture was used, or made by some of the Den regulars), away from the smoke and music. Jimmy grabbed a pencil from a nearby table and some paper from the teenager run alcohol-free bar. He sat in the fake leather seat, silently sketching is surroundings as Pam sat, thinking.
“Hey, Jimmy? Can I tell you something?”
Jimmy paused and looked up.
“You can tell me anything. I’m your Jim-Jim, remember?”
Pam smiled weakly.
“Yeah. Jim-Jim. When I was falling from the bridge in the cemetery,” started Pam, as Jimmy nodded and placed his drawing down.
“I…I saw something. I was falling, and behind this row of trees, I saw something fall from the sky,”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
“Just listen, Jimmy. A rocket fell. It was gold and black, and it had writing on it. I don’t know what it said, I was to far away. And I swear, just above where the rocket fell, there was a big cloud. And in that cloud, there was a faint outline of…a ship,” said Pam distantly.
Jimmy placed a hand on her forehead.
“You feeling o.k.?” asked Jimmy. Pam pushed his hand away.
“A ship was in the sky. Not like a sail boat or a pirate ship, I mean, almost like a pirate ship, but much more high-tech. It had wings, it was crazy. Don’t you believe me?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“I dunno, Pam, it seems weird. No government ship would shoot random rockets from pirate ships with wings,”
“I swear it was what I saw,”
“Here,” said Jimmy, placing his hand on her shoulder, smiling.
“We can visit the cemetery tomorrow if you want,”
Pam nodded and frowned.
“It’s what I saw. It was like aliens were piloting it, or something crazy shit like that…”
“I cannot believe the Captain is actually doing this to me, sending me to that rock-for-a-planet with you,”
Linus crossed his arms grumpily in his seat. His hair was a deep chestnut, and his skin dyed slightly to be pinker than his normally white skin. His eyes were now a bright hazel. Unfortunately, no with his eyes blocked with contacts, Linus could no longer “see what was coming.” Since he relied on that special vision all the time before, Linus was now tripping over everything “in sight.”
Viola and Linus were being sent to Earth to retrieve the Rocket in a small pod-for-ship. The pod, which was shaped like a giant purple egg, would be dropped by a trap door in the bottom of the ship and it would plummet to the ocean. Once touched by water, ship’s propeller would shoot out, combined with an invisibility shield that masks the ship and its’ motion. No human would be able to see it.
Linus was sitting behind a stretched glass window, which made half the egg. The control was placed just below the window and in close to Linus’ hands. Easy to access.
“You suck, Viola. I cannot believe you dry fired! You know better!”
Viola groaned, plugging in her seat belt, or rather, two strips of black cloth securing her to the chair.
“I should’ve just shot you. It would make my life a lot easier,”
Linus thinned his eyes.
“I hate contacts. How can humans survive with these?!”
“Linus, you have Vision, they don’t. You’re not used to the contacts,”
Linus grumbled and frowned.
“Humans are stupid. I mean, look at me! I look ridiculous!”
Linus pointed to his garb: Baggy jeans, (dragging lightly and frayed at the ends), a black button down shirt tucked in lazily in his pants, blue high-top converses, and a striped brown and green beanie, pushing his now brown bangs slightly to the side. To aliens, he was the definition of a freak. To straight woman and gay men, he was God. In other words, Linus was transformed into a jaw dropping, gorgeous looking human.
“Look at me!” said Viola, “My metal is replaced by a fucking hologram,” Viola’s gears and gadgets were, technically, gone, and replaced with human skin. Or at least something like it. In the back of Viola’s nape was a small chip installed to project lifelike images and feels of a human body. The hologram was perfectly convincible—but it had one flaw: hot water. You pour a hot substance on Viola, a few things would happen:
1) She would be very angry. She would probably kill you.
2) Viola would get burned.
3) Linus would be blamed.
4) The hologram would disappear for a few seconds.
As you can see, the hologram was not perfect, and Viola was taking a huge risk. But the Rocket was worth it.
“Do you know anything about Earth culture?” asked Viola, placing a headset on her ears and adjusting the mike.
“I mean, what the hell do they do all day long? I hear they work, eat, work, and sleep. That’s it,” laughed Linus, placing his hands on the controls.
“I don’t how will blend in,”
“I know; Girls will be jumping all over me like flies on honey….even with these embarrassing clothing,”
“Hah, very funny. Yes, Linus, you’re a sexy beast,” muttered Viola, rolling her eyes.
“You know it’s true!” said Linus, starting up the egg-ship’s engine.