Micah Gurley: Invasion Day: An Oral History of the Veech War

The contract I’m on is for two years, It’s my second contract. I got a bonus to rehire. Part of that bonus was a free trip home to visit family. I love it here, and I’m making good money.

I work a forty-hour week with rotating weekends and get some input on what I want to cook. We usually serve Asian, western, or Latin meals for the buffet, so there will always be something someone likes. I cook mainly Thai food since it’s my specialty, but I can cook almost everything.

Are you concerned about being attacked?

We already have been, at least a small one. I had only been here a few months when the battle station’s siren went off. I was playing cards with some friends at the time, and we all thought it was a drill. Still, it’s been drilled into us so much that what to do is like second nature. My station in that event is here in Mess 2, which turns into a hospital, if needed. We push all the tables together, stack the chairs, and get dressed in our X2s—that’s our spacesuit. Not in that order though. We’ve done it a hundred times, so we were very fast. We can leave our helmet off until we hear the imminent damage siren, but that’s never happened. I think it was another scouting run by the Veech, but the pilots met them far from here. I waited with the others for six hours, but then the all-clear came, and it was back to business.

Concerned? Yes, I’m concerned, I mean, who wouldn’t be? But I have faith in TSC. I know many of them, and they are very good at what they do. No, I think I’ll be staying up here for a while. I might even bring some of my family next time.

Phoenix Station

Deck C

Dr. Orly Attia is a sturdy, older woman who carries herself with an indomitable will. She moves through the halls of Phoenix station with a sense of urgency, daring anyone to get in her way. She directs me into her clinic.

The clinic, despite its name, is vast. A reception attendant looks up in greeting, but the doctor passes her without a word. We pass multiple examination rooms until we come to her office at the end of a hallway.

Oh yes, I remember Invasion Day and precisely what I was doing. Who doesn’t? I was working. I was examining a child who had breathing problems when someone barged in my office and said, “There are aliens in the sky.” I whispered to the fool that if he didn’t get out, I would circumcise him a second time. There I was with a little one, and they upset her with those stories. So what if it was true? Was I going to leave this little one alone? Fools. I finished examining her and three children after that. The world did not stop, and neither did I.

But yes, there were aliens. What can I do about it? People were screaming in the streets, pulling their hair out as if they’d suffered some great calamity. Why not sackcloth and ashes on the head, I say? If you’re going to be this dramatic, why stop with a little hair-pulling? Such childish behavior! It’s a wonder any alien race would be interested in these simple minds.

I hope, young man, you reacted better. (She looks over her glasses at me.)

I lived outside of Jerusalem, which was spared. All of Israel remained unmolested by the aliens. Maybe these aliens don’t enjoy olives, who can say? It was a gift. Yes, we had the same internal problems that most of the world experienced but all in all, we were quite fortunate. Both the Jews and our Arab cousins saw this as divine protection. (Laughs.)Another gift that day: we agreed together.

I spent most of the war in Jordan. I patched up those boys and girls as they fought the aliens that infested Amman. Terrible, terrible war. I met and worked with another pediatrician there. A Jordanian. He always tells me, “With the children of Abraham working together, these aliens have erred.” (Laughs.)What a fool, but the best of fools. He came to the station with me.

What did I overhear from you? Yes, you were asking about the medicine from the friendly aliens. Stay there.

She gets up and walks to a counter full of large, white bottles. She opens one, then hands me two blue pills.

You have cancer? Take these.

She puts the cap back on the bottle and picks up another bottle.

You have heart problems? High cholesterol? Poor blood circulation? Take these. I can go on and on, but you get the point. It took a few years for the technology to be studied and deemed safe, despite the aliens’ promises. This particular race of aliens focuses on medicine, from what I understand. After the war was over, they sent a representative, and they discovered our need. They conducted their test, studied our biology, and then returned a year later with these pills. They didn’t give them to us for free. Why would they? But you’ll have to talk to someone else about that deal.

Those pills alone have saved countless lives, but that is not all. We have machines that can heal a broken arm in seconds or seal cuts as good as new with a wave of the hand. Truly remarkable.

They have changed medicine. Many doctors who specialized in internal medicine are out of a job or function as diagnosticians. I’m a pediatrician, so there is still a need for me since most of these pills aren’t to be given to children. It is truly a gift.

Her phone rings, and she answer it.

Off you go, young man, I have a delivery. The aliens can’t do that, can they?

Phoenix Station

Jim Turner is a man of medium height, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He agreed to meet me in his classroom on the civilian side of Phoenix Station. The classroom is unremarkable in every aspect. Its beige walls and fluorescent lighting could have been part of any school in the world.

I was an underwater welder before Invasion Day. It was a great job that paid good money. I’m from Houston, but I was doing some work on an offshore rig during the attacks. Got lucky, I guess. I didn’t even hear that damn, killer noise. I lost most of my family that day. My parents lived near Atlanta, and they never traveled far from home, so I’m sure t hey died there. I never saw their bodies.

My wife was 29. She was beautiful and fierce, full of Latin passion. We’d been married for about five years and were hoping to start on our first child soon. I had just talked to her the day before. We didn’t fight. I know a lot of people talk about the last things they said to someone, but we just talked about food. I think I mentioned that I had some stomach problems, and she told me to eat more greens, that it would help me be more regular. ( He laughs, then sits quietly.)

At first, I didn’t believe the news. I tried to get home, but it was impossible… I threatened, begged, and tried to persuade anyone I could, but it wasn’t happening. I had to see my house with my own eyes. I had to. I wanted to see my wife. Just one more time. Just… I… I wanted to see her.

But then we saw a news report out of Houston, and I knew. Someone had sent some kind of drone into the city, and you could see… well, you know. Dead bodies and fires all over the place. After that I didn’t want to go back. I think my wife would have been at home or at least on her way home from work.

I used to think about it a lot… about what she went through. I mean, I have read the reports of people who heard the noise and survived, even inside the cities, because they were in the basement or something. They described the noise and what they went through, but what about the people who died from it? Those who took the full impact from it. Did they die quick? Were they in pain? Did they know they were going to die? (He pauses.)