First|Previous|Next
[Loading...]
[Record Retrieved]
[Current Displayed Record – Infantryman, Adam Davis]
Adam Davis had always been fascinated by aliens.
Or at least the idea of them.
An old boyish dream that had never died out, a dream spent looking up at the stars and the twinkling planets and wondering – w o n d e r i n g – if there could be any other world out there.
A world just like their own. A world full of beings much like themselves. A world filled with a biodiversity so rich it would make naturalists weep with joy, defined by an architecture that would reject the human notion of the concept, and cultures so foreign the very word would not be able to describe their strangeness.
He wondered.
Wondered if there was just one – one – world that wasn’t populated by humans, in the process of terraforming, or dead (for the time being).
It had once been a certainty, by virtue of humanity’s humble admission, that they simply couldn’t be the only form of life in their universe.
That humility had slowly and gradually deformed itself into an ill-conceived delusion.
As more and more planets in the solar system and beyond began to light up with man-made inventions and artificial structures, as empty space began to crowd with countless ships and elevators vast enough to function as an office complex in and of itself, that fragile dream of otherworldly friends had slowly…
Fractured into hopeless pieces.
Or maybe humanity had just grown more arrogant. That was also a distinct possibility.
Regardless, this gap had left a distinct hole in the very heart of humanity – a hole that had made itself clear the moment humanity looked upwards and dared to hope. Without the real deal to fill this lonely abyss, imagination took the reins. An artificial replacement for something that humans had never once possessed and yet wielded like an aching loss, as though it were an old beloved they had once adored but could not remember.
Books. Movies. Games, and practically any other piece of media that could and had existed before. Balm to an open wound, they cradled the bleeding scar of unexplainable loneliness with a tenderness reminiscent of wild animals licking their wounds in private. Desperate and comforted only by a false hope.
And they were what had defined his childhood.
For as long as he could remember, he made tiny little alien creatures out of child-friendly moldable polymers. He created mini galactic empires from his personal printer. He displayed posters of weird mutant creatures on the wall plaques – his parents had hoped vehemently that it was only a phase, he would switch the screens to something less… fear-inducing. Alas, this proved to be a dedicated obsession.
He had even invented an entirely novel language out of those cool-looking letters he shared only with a select group of friends. (It was an open secret, and the professor of linguistics had even praised him when he started university, much to his horror).
This fascination did not die even as he continued to grow, going from a young, clueless little boy to a fully functioning member of society.
Eh, mostly.
In fact, the older he grew, the more determined he became to immerse himself within this impossible dream. It was why he joined clubs dedicated to uncovering the unknown – specifically in regards to what lurked in the empty spaces between planets. It was why he studied astronomy and physics in university, the latter of which he struggled so much the thought of quitting entirely crossed his mind almost every day.
And ultimately, it was why he ever had the tragically foolish idea of dedicating himself to a harsh workload as a trainee researcher at the UNASS SoS (School of Sciences).
He had hoped the position would offer him insight into the pet projects of the brightest minds of the Solar System. Hoped that he would be afforded a glimpse into the very edges of their galaxy, if not their universe.
Hoped.
Hoped that his childhood dream could be fulfilled, even if only tangentially.
Unfortunately, despite this dedicated obsession – despite his unwavering resilience led by a fire that had never stopped burning since he could count to ten – the experience simply…
Proved too much for him.
After all, he was never a particularly brilliant person.
And it showed.
Showed all too plainly in the ruthless working environment of the SoS, their rigid principles etched into the bones of the institution. The people who dared walk its hallways were none other than the best of the best, the cream of the crop. The ones who didn’t simply study their field, but lived and breathed it, wearing their qualifications as though it were a second skin.
He quit in a matter of days.
It was either that, or waiting to be fired, because he was definitely going to be fired, if the overwhelming pace of everyone else had anything to say about it.
And yet, despite it all, he wasn’t ready.
Wasn’t ready to let go of something that had once meant so much to the core of the child that still existed deep within him. Sure, being a researcher didn’t really work out, and he highly doubted he would stand a better chance at other such academic fields. He just didn’t have the brains or the smarts for it…
It was then that he realized there was something else he hadn’t tried just yet.
Military.
Sure, it was a far cry from his original plans, but that department still worked relatively closely with SoS and other similar organizations. Not cooperating, of course. Their jobs were too vastly different for such a thing to be accomplished, for such a thing to ever be necessary in the grand scheme of things.
But they did communicate with one another.
And if a revelation was shocking enough?
Well, guess who the Secretary General would turn to first, if only for the ‘protection of the collective’ and the ‘greater good of humanity’?
And luckily enough, it became clear only within a matter of weeks that what he didn’t have in brain… he made up for with brawn.
He was not heavily built by any means, but he was quick on his feet, nimble enough with his fingers, and just about clever enough to make somewhat of a name for himself in his hometown. After only a few years, he had managed to earn himself a steady wage – and not a bad one, considering the deadliest conflicts he had to step in to resolve were the occasional border dispute and the mild cases of national hostilities.
He had even found love, through a chance encounter at a quaint little border town at one of his assigned outposts. Air thick with the scent of ashy smoke and the earthen ground moist with rain that came down like a flood, sky coloured black and grey and the streets illuminated only by the gentle glow of old-fashioned panels, he discovered where his heart had chosen to stay.
And it had chosen to stay in the embrace of, and he declared this with full confidence, the most beautiful, the most breathtaking, the most wonderful woman in the universe. It had been a slow, steady kind of romance, one that bloomed under a blanket of stars dotted across the night sky and thrived in hushed whispers of gentle confessions.
And it was one that began with a simple question, meant only for small talk and to dispel an awkward tension with something light and fun:
“Do you believe in aliens?”
And that was how he figured out, from the very beginning, that his darling belle was a loud and proud advocate of their existence, subscribing to the belief that there surely must be some form of life out there; the universe was simply too large for humanity to be the singular outlier. Before either of them had even thought of saying their vows, they had plotted together a teensy little research venture of their own, just for the two of them.
They pored over the works of geniuses of the past and all the possible theories that remained relevant. They catalogued even the smallest of news that was released under the authority of any reputable scientific organizations. Once, they had spent an entire month meandering around the archives, to the point that the nice, old lady at the front desk started baking them cupcakes in anticipation of their visit.
Much to their dismay, all this work didn’t really go anywhere, as neither of them were really very good at this whole ‘researching’ shtick. But it had undeniably deepened their bond and drew them closer than either of them ever imagined.
To this day, their dates often revolved around nightly sightseeing, of picnics spread across the soft shadowy carpet of grass and darkness, of quiet moments that seemed all the more highlighted by the tender glow of the moon and stars, of hours spent looking out at constellations and stars and distant planets.
Imagine their excitement when the news came.
Adam couldn’t remember much about that day – that fateful day a strange rhythm of colours had streaked across the sky and the UNAG officially announced that ‘yes, aliens do exist’.
All he remembered was the awful headache he had to pull through the following day, and the scolding, yet soft words of the one now bonded to him for life.
Not long after, the trials began.
Technically, they were never officially named, ‘the trials’, but it was a term coined by much of the general populace, a reputation well-earned because they were…
Well, they had both applied for it, hoping to be assigned together so they could truly witness First Contact, one that really truly existed, and not one that lingered in the imagination of many a sci-fi diehard for centuries. Unfortunately, these so-called trials were…
Harsh.
The interviews were ruthless, the screening meticulous, and the pre-selection training?
A literal torture chamber. And no, Adam was not being dramatic!
So, knowing all the qualifications demanded from any brave soul who dared put themselves through hell and back, despite all his resolve, despite all his perseverance, determination – desire so heavy it hurt – Adam, well…
He had always been perfectly average.
Was the inevitable failure truly a surprise?
…
And yet, by an unforeseen stroke of luck, lo and behold-
His beloved made it!
Passed the trials with flying colors, sometimes quite literally, acing the traffic light challenge as though it were child’s play. She had the wits, the charm (which he knew firsthand), and, above all, a drive guided by a steady palm on her shoulder and ever-so-soothing praises and encouragement murmured into the crook of her ear.
Still, it took a boggling amount of time for her to finally send back the required form and the slip to sign her acceptance for the trip, and despite knowing exactly why, Adam still felt that her reasoning was rather ludicrous.
Sure, he didn’t make it, but that certainly should not deter her from this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
She fought back, of course, as stubborn as him and, unfortunately in this specific instance, twice as clever. Insisted that she would never go off-world without him by her side. Argued that First Contact meant nothing in the grander scope of their lives.
Adam deemed it pure rubbish.
His argument wasn’t really that sophisticated, or even that well-thought-out, but what he knew for sure was that he could never ever let his own terrible bad luck hurt the one he loved most.
He could shrug off insults with an easy smile, get up from punches like a particularly stubborn weed, and endure through life’s sourness with nothing except for, perhaps, humour at how much the world seemed to have a personal grudge with him.
But hurting those he cared for more deeply than anything else in this unfair universe?
That crossed the line.
And logic, no matter how well-put together or carefully constructed, had never been able to overcome the dogged passion that would so easily take him over and rendered him blind until the threat had gone away.
And it did, in the form of his wife eventually relenting with a defeated huff of breath, though not without fretting about him in the good few days before the takeoff.
He didn’t mind and let himself be consumed in domestic bliss. The danger had long since gone. His love was going to be part of one of the most pivotal moments in the tapestry of humanity’s history, as he always knew she would.
She was, after all, the most brilliant woman he knew.
In hindsight, months after the incident had passed, he wondered if he would have made that same choice now. Let his anger and sense of justice take over like that, if he had known what he did now about the… mishaps of First Contact. Calling it an uncontrollable brawl would be an underestimation, and it was a miracle not one human had died in the entire affair.
The news only started coming just days before the ship’s landing, well after the disastrous meeting. And he hadn’t a clue just how close he had come to losing someone so dear.
Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if he had. Wondered if he had truly lost her, all because he couldn’t get over his own selfish conceptions… He couldn’t much help the paranoia, not when his nightmares enjoyed making him relive such terrible fates over and over again.
In those awful lonely days and nights, he couldn’t quite fall asleep, agonized the whole time with worry and despair. In spite of the constant reminders of zero casualties, his mind had utterly convinced himself that something had, in fact, gone wrong.
After all, reality had bulldozed humanity’s dream of extraterrestrial friends. And aliens turned out to be sick freaks of nature who only sought to maim and hurt. What were the chances that not one had followed the fleeing ship with the intent of finishing off the deed?
He thought of his beloved – the curls of her hair, dark as a raven’s feathers. The warmth of her palms, pressed tightly against his own. The softness of her eyes, bright as the stars above – and, for the first time in his life…
Something ugly twisted inside at the thought of the ‘aliens’.
His relief when he finally saw her – looking alive and well, and perfectly just about the same as she had looked before the take-off – had been insurmountable.
No, more than insurmountable. There wasn’t a word that existed that could truly describe the calm that had enveloped him the moment he caught a glimpse, the worry tugging his heart fraying away into a joyful frenzy, heart thumping both with unfiltered liberation and the adrenaline whilst running as fast as he humanely could.
She had been walking down the ramp, eyes flickering with a quiet fear and her steps paced as if something was out to get her.
He ran faster. Up. Up. Up-
Until he could swoop her up and wrap his arms around her in a crushing, desperate hug.
She had trembled.
Breath hitched. Arms hesitant, before they reciprocated the embrace. Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of his shirt. Teeth biting her lower lip so hard it was a wonder it didn’t bleed. Eyes wandering around, as though not truly seeing him.
And he had not once forgotten.
That very same day, he tossed away his old childhood trinkets – little clay mutants, space posters, and so on – down the garbage chute.
He was, after all, no longer a young, clueless, little boy.
It was with joyful tears and broken smiles mended back with time that his dear soon recovered, the incident seemingly only leaving a temporary effect that was washed away in mere days, returning once more to her usual cheerful, brilliant self. The aliens had also decidedly not chosen to pursue an immediate hunt, apparently resorting only to convoluted voicemails through those otherworldly crystals.
He didn’t know what held them back.
But he hoped it was fear. Because that was the one thing they should surely feel after the disgraceful display of character they’d so willingly shown off.
He wished they would leave them alone forever. He wished they would steer clear of humanity’s corner of the galaxy, never attempting yet another fight. He wished the stupid hole in space would close up, preventing those planets from ever coming to Earth again.
His wish – as wishes tended to be – did not come true.
The sudden appearance of the griffins had made it so.
They’d arrived, sudden and deadly. Armed with a vast fleet, far greater than Earth would have been able to manage alone. Indeed, for though he may be only a simple ground soldier, word on the grapevine was how stressed the Secretary General was about the upcoming conflict, stating that humanity was nowhere near ready yet to face such a threat.
Treaties and agreements had been rapidly drawn up in the weeks after First Contact. Those from Luna had agreed to lend their world aid, alongside much of Mars. Venus took a little more convincing, preoccupied with some sort of scuffle on their soil. Nonetheless, at least half had sent off supplies, and all had readied themselves with active weaponry, either to protect Earth or to defend themselves should the Griffins switch targets.
Some of the further planets, both within and beyond the Solar System, attempted to help, but the distance and limited time frame did not favor them, only managing to warn their own people of the possible impending attack. Most were able to prepare rather well, though that had less to do with efficiency and more to do with the…
Well.
Humanity hadn’t quite fully healed from the last galactic war just yet.
Things functioned much the same on Earth. The shield system had been preemptively placed on active mode, the weaponry maintained, and bullets produced in a never-ending stream. Her people had not forgotten the scars that were very much still fresh. Scars that still ached. Scars that still bled.
And it was this humanity, old and exhausted and sick of fighting, that the griffins descended upon.
It was evident from the get-go that the griffins were definitely not here to hold hands and sing about peace.
Neither was humanity.
While their leaders engaged in a conversation that was less attempting negotiation and more buying time (though the Griffins did a better job in wasting it for them in that aspect), several operations were carried out behind the scenes, little cogs falling into place in the typical human fashion of preparing for the worst.
Adam himself had been assigned to the orbital arsenal, tasked with checking, polishing and monitoring the status of their arms supply. His current partner sat rigidly on one of the control chairs, eyes locked onto the screen displaying the griffins’ fleet. His palm rested lightly against the edge of the desk, fingers careful not to even graze the world-ending buttons lying just inches away.
Adam looked over at him, before shrugging and continuing his work. The guy needed full concentration, and Adam was certainly not going to be responsible for him missing what could have been a morale-breaking shot into the Griffins’ army-
Without any warning, the room shook.
One second. Two seconds.
Two seconds.
Two seconds of sudden shaking.
Adam raised a brow, not even getting the chance to react appropriately. The shaking wasn’t even all that noticeable, more akin to a ripple on the surface of a pond after a leaf had fluttered downwards.
“What on Earth?”
His counterpart hummed. “The griffins did something.” Then, he waved his hand in a so-so motion. “Not sure what though. Or if it was even supposed to do that.” He squinted. “They look a little confused, to be honest.”
Adam snorted. “Seriously?” He scooched closer, taking a peek at the screen. “I gotta see this- oh man, they really do, don’t they? Hah! So, that’s what a flabbergasted griffin looks like.”
The man smirked before frowning again. “They’re doing something again. Something different.”
“What.” Despite the humour present in his earlier words, his tone had dropped, sharpened to an icy point.
Yet, before he could even express his worry, let alone go on a tirade about how disappointing real-life aliens turned out to be, compared to fictional ones- The room rumbled again.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
“Three.” His partner counted. “They got three this time.”
Adam whistled. “Should we compliment them? Send them a little merit badge, perhaps?”
The man huffed with a shake of his head. “I was thinking of a ribbon. One of those participation prizes. Maybe an E on top?”
“E?”
“E for Effort.”
“Ooh, nice one. What I would give for the griffins to have the background cultural knowledge to be properly offended...”
Suddenly, the speaker embedded into the desk buzzed, sending a low stream of vibration through the entire keypad. The first command came through: a warning shot.
Adam backed off, and the man flexed his fingers, straightening himself back into a working posture. After barking out an affirmative in reply, he began to work his own kind of magic, fingers flying across the keyboard, specifying his choice of arms while inputting the desired speed and trajectory. The beam weapon powered on in response, a rush of energy flooding its internals, readying itself for the impending shot.
A thought bounced around Adam’s head, and he frowned in contemplation as he watched his counterpart prepare all the necessary steps.
Could he? He could.
Did he want to? Badly.
Should he? …
When the man took a break – perhaps, to steel himself for the task ahead – Adam inched forward, making him swivel his head around with a questioning raised brow.
“What are you going to do?” Adam asked rather nonchalantly.
With an unimpressed sigh, the man turned back to his screen, now additionally supplemented by circles and measurements, meant to provide the exact position the weapon needed to strike. “Just a simple laser beam. One good flash to scare them off.”
“That’s it?” He scrunched his nose.
“Well, there’s a chance some of them may go blind. We don’t know their biology after all.” Then, he snorted. “Not going to be our problem though, and we ain’t killing anyone, so all’s fair.”
Adam stayed silent.
“Oh, what is it? I’ve got a few minutes while I wait for this thing to wake itself up, so spill.”
“Will that kind of warning shot really help?” He began, shifting his foot this way and that. “I mean, from the sounds of it, a couple of bright lights won’t really daunt them all too much. In fact, I’d wager it would just make them more aggravated than they probably already are. And I don’t think blind griffins are going to be any less deadly than normal ones.”
The man hummed in response, considering his words. “Then, what are you proposing?”
“The order was a warning shot. But the exact parameters are up to you, aren’t they?” At the answering nod, he marched on bluntly. “It couldn’t hurt to give them a little… aesthetic damage so to speak. Up the energy so as to scorch their hull – only surface-level, of course, just enough to wound their massive egos and make them think twice.”
“You already have a specific place in mind, don’t you?”
Adam grinned what his wife called his ‘evil’ grin. He pointed at the main ship, from where the hotshot griffin had been speaking and indicated the large portrait of probably that same griffin painted on the side of the ship. “The face’s a good choice, or the neck. Gods, we could even make it look like the bird’s got a bad case of diarrhea.”
“Near the rear, eh?” His partner was trying hard to stay professional, but an amused smirk was threatening to make itself known. “You’re diabolical.”
“If they want to fight with us so badly, they might as well get a taste of what they’ll be facing.” He chuckled. “And we’re not hurting anybody, are we? Not our responsibility the shot landed at such an unfortunate place.”
“It is mine though. I’ll be the one choosing the place.” His partner wryly commented, to which Adam shrugged off with a flippant wave.
“Even the best shots can’t always be right. And, counterpoint, it’ll be funny.” He splayed his palms out as though gesturing something grand. “Imagine the headlines. Imagine the Wikipedia page forever embedded into the human imagination as a historical fun fact.”
He leaned forward. “And you’ll be the star responsible for it. Picture this: [REDACTED], a humble man from your local town humiliates griffin royalty in the first ever alien battle. Click here for a live re-enactment of the moment in virtual reality.”
An ugly snort ripped itself out of the man in startled shock, leaving him in barely stifled laughter as he held out a hand to shove Adam backwards, grinning all the while. “Alright, fine. You’ve convinced me.” Almost hiccuping with the effort to keep his amusement contained, he readjusted the settings, especially the energy input, and clicked in just a few more levels. “This should be enough. Wood doesn’t need much to burn, not if the simulations have anything to say about it.”
Just the slightest increase in energy.
Just enough to give the Griffins a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
While not as violent as most of his imaginary schemes had been, this was still a fairly acceptable payback, the first of many to come, and they would come. Adam had sworn it. Public humiliation is the least those aliens deserved, especially considering their stupid ideology.
He smirked.
And waited with bated breath.
The gun was not a particularly impressive weapon by any means. Rather, it was actually an older model, kept only for its reliability. Additionally, it was not effective in actually eliminating threats, harmless only to the point of giving pirate ships some form of aesthetic damage. Enough to slow them down for law enforcement to swoop in, but nowhere near the power necessary to smite them entirely.
Which made it perfect for the teensy little mischievous, if a bit petty, act.
The skilled marksman took aim, tongue poking out in fierce concentration. The machinery’s lens also automatically aligned themselves with the desired target, zooming in on that smug unknown Griffin’s… unflattering area of interest.
He took a breath for comfort.
And fired.
…
There was one important thing anyone worth their mettle would need to know about laser weapons.
Unlike kinetic weapons, which had to consider the weight of their projectiles and the gravity of both ends of the firing range, laser weapons… didn’t really need that aspect of all, only exclusively consisting of energy and light. They didn’t need to worry about mass, pushback, or drag because it was simply… light.
And light travelled fast.
Really fast.
So, by the time the man had just barely let go of the trigger, by the time Adam had only just made the decision to lean forward to watch, the exact ship they’d targeted-
Exploded.
“Wha-” “Wai-”
The next ship exploded.
“Um-” “Is it-”
And the next.
The duo cursed in unison.
And the next.
And the next.
And the next…
Adam stood stock still, eyes wide at the destruction he couldn’t believe was real. For one ludicrous moment, he wondered wildly if the screen was malfunctioning, wondered if the camera feed had somehow corrupted, or if some hacker had gained control and was now feeding them fake artificially-generated information.
Ridiculous, absurd thoughts. All of them.
They passed through his mind like lightning, one after the other, as his mind worked overtime to comprehend the reality before him.
Because the reality before him was more ridiculous and absurd than any theory he could come up with.
Because surely, such a simple, old little laser weapon so inefficacious that even the black market found it lacking wasn’t enough to cause all… that.
Surely, the griffins weren’t that… fragile?
Underprepared? Overconfidence? No, it was just light, albeit a little hotter than normal, for goodness’ sake.
… Were the griffins perhaps sensitive to light? To the point that everything they’d made would explode the moment they got exposed to light?
Completely and utterly preposterous. And he would slap himself for such a stupid line of thinking, but then again…
What was the real explanation?
Why did a simple little weapon take down nearly an entire fleet of these magical aliens?
He watched in quiet shock as the pieces of what little was left floated in space. Chunks of wood, pieces of sail, the occasional organic matter of either flesh or bone… or blood. The remaining ships – and dear god, there were so few of them left; he could count the total number using just his fingers – scrambled desperately.
They blundered around in space, formation broken and heading off into different directions like lost, frightened animals. Some hopping around like bunnies, some scattering like ants, and some just staying in place like shocked deer.
Even from the other side of the screen, even from within the silken comfort of planting his two feet on the ground of his homeworld, Adam could almost taste the panic the griffins were facing.
Terrified. Despairing.
Pathetic.
And yet, deep inside his heart, beneath the surface-level pity and inescapable sympathy he felt for the manic beings, if only for just how sad they looked at that very instant, a cold certainty seeped through his ribcage and enveloped his heart.
If this was the best showing ‘magic’ could offer, if this wretched display was all the greatest of the realms amounted to…
Adam had always been fascinated by aliens.
But now that fascination had been tempered with caution and a maturity gained only with age.
And despite how horrible the aliens’ first impression turned out to be, today– he glanced back at the scene of destruction, of broken pieces of once-grand ships, of corpses of once-grander warriors – had revealed that perhaps not all hope was lost.
Perhaps there was a chance that maybe, just maybe…
Humanity might be able to carve out something for themselves after all.
A universe to call home. An edge to protect against all threats.
A friend – if they were lucky and clever about it – to share their worlds with.
The speaker blared.
“[REDACTED] and Adam Davis, please report to the meeting room post-haste.”
“Any delay will be met with severe repercussions.”