Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“That was you? How…?”

“Well, I’m not flying it… that’s the orb’s doing. Anyway, it’s a long story, but it’s all very true. Even I couldn’t make shit up this crazy.”

“Watch your language on an open channel, son. Are you coming home now?”

“Yeah… just as soon as Poland stops firing missiles at us.”

“Poland?”

“Look, Dad, the rest of the world has no idea what’s really happened. They don’t know we’re the good guys up here. You need to call… I don’t know… like NASA or the President or someone. We need to be able to land. Dad, weren’t you in the Navy? Can’t you call someone?”

“You’re really up in space? I’ve been listening to the news… that was you?”

“I already told you, it wasn’t just me. Truth is, I’m really more of an observer, though it’s too hard to explain right now. Just get the military to stop firing on us… can you do that?”

“Guess I can try. How can I contact you?” Tony looked over to the orb for guidance.

The orb said, “I will continue to monitor this police band. If your father speaks, I will hear him.”

“Did you hear that? Did you hear what the orb said?”

“I heard it. Okay, let me get to it. Take care of yourself, son.”

“Thanks, Dad… you too.” Their connection ended.

Cuddy said, “There’s still the issue of keeping this ship… us too… out of the hands of the government. We need to avoid capture.”

“Why do we care?” Tony asked. “I just want to get home. Let them take the damn ship.”

Cuddy felt his anger rise up, “No… that can’t happen. I made a promise. I’m going to Primara. This ship, and the Evermore , cannot be taken. I… cannot be taken.” But clearly, by their expression, neither Kyle nor Tony fully understood why.

Over the next two hours, Cuddy had time to think. And he did so with a level of laser-sharp clarity that, even with everything else that had changed within him, was still surprising. His brain—his consciousness—had continued to evolve. He anticipated that when the sheriff came back online, he would be handing off all further communications to some authority figure in the military—maybe a general, or someone else high up—who would demand the ship land at some pre-designated location. But that wouldn’t work with what Cuddy planned to do.

“Orb… when we reenter the Earth’s atmosphere, can the Revenge be tracked?”

“Yes, primarily by various types of commercial and military radar. And the Revenge is no longer invisible. What did you call it—stealth?”

“I may be able to repair that functionality.”

“Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” Kyle asked.

“I was unfamiliar with the characteristics of this vessel. Since then, I have completed an in-depth evaluation of each of the ship’s systems. The stealth mode generators, which are part of the Tactical system, do have a certain amount of redundancy built in. I can make the necessary repairs… make use of the redundant system on board. It will take me another hour.”

“So you’re saying the Revenge will, in fact, be able to avoid detection? We’re not going to be blown out of the sky by some missile?” Cuddy asked.

“That is correct. At least, for Earth-based technology, I am confident the Revenge cannot be tracked.”

“What other technology would we have to worry about?” Kyle asked. “We destroyed the other two Howsh ships.”

The orb, hovering close to one of the larger display screens, replied, “I’ve detected this…”

At first, Cuddy didn’t understand what he was seeing on the screen. It just looked like a lot of slow-moving icons.

“What you now are viewing are ten Howsh Marauder-Class star fighters. Individually, they are highly capable crafts. Together, they become a powerful force.”

“What is the Revenge like in comparison?” Kyle asked.

“The Revenge is referred to as a Scout-Class vessel.”

“Scout?” Tony queried. “That doesn’t sound very good. Scout sounds nothing like Marauder-Class star fighters. We’re fucked.”

“How far away are they, and how long before they reach Earth?” Cuddy asked.

“They are not headed for Earth; I believe they are destined for Primara.”

It was a good two hours before the orb alerted Cuddy that Sheriff Bone’s voice had again been detected on the Woodbury police emergency band. And, as anticipated, the sheriff said he had a General Hastings, of the U.S. Air Force, standing by to work out the logistics.

Hastings’ voice sounded younger than Cuddy envisioned a general would sound like.

“Who is it that I am addressing on the alien vessel?” he asked. Kyle and Tony looked to Cuddy.

“I am Cuddy Perkins, sir.”

“Okay, Mr. Perkins… who is there with you?”

“Tony Bone, the sheriff’s son, and my brother, Kyle. Oh… and the AI orb, who I think you’ve already been speaking with.”

“You’re saying that was an artificial intelligence previously on the line?”

“Yes, sir, that’s what I’m saying.” Cuddy glanced at his brother and shook his head. With so much weird stuff going on, he was surprised the general picked up on the AI being the most bizarre aspect.

“Look, Mr. Perkins, the U.S. military has substantial resources. Within minutes of being contacted by Sheriff Bone, our people were digging into who exactly you were. Who all of you were.”

“Okay, that’s good… I guess,” Cuddy said, wanting to move things along.

“No… not so good, Mr. Perkins. Because our intel resources came back with conflicting information. For one thing, the only Cuddy Perkins we have on record, son of one Dorothy, or Dotty , Perkins, is nineteen years of age, with a mental I.Q. of sixty-three. Severely mentally disabled. Functionally, a five-year-old.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it, sir… I’ve gotten a lot smarter. Do you think we can we move this along… there’s—”

Hastings continued right over Cuddy’s words, “Next we have one Kyle Perkins, your brother, who is twenty-two. He was released from West Tennessee State Penitentiary—the Whiteville Correctional Facility—only last week. Seems he has an aptitude for stealing cars… as well as getting caught. And finally we have Mr. Tony Bone. Out of respect for Mr. Dale Bone, the Sheriff of Woodbury… I won’t go into the colorful past of this twenty-two-year-old hoodlum. Just leave it to say, the Three Stooges would make a far more likely crew for what Sheriff Bone tells me transpired today. But he insisted you three—along with the artificial intelligence—are responsible for the destruction of the two other alien craft and the aliens responsible for the mass-destruction on Earth—the loss of millions of lives across our planet. But I am at a loss to provide an alternative explanation. My technical personnel tell me that you are, in fact, up there in space. And each still-operating news agency has been broadcasting the footage of a third alien ship, battling two others over Eastern Europe and Russia. So I am in the awkward position of having to offer humble gratitude to you, and the others with you, on behalf of the entire planet.”

“Oh… well, okay! You’re welcome, General,” Cuddy said.

“Yeah… no biggie,” Tony added.

“With that said, I’m sure you’ll understand that we must conduct what follows with all due diligence… with extreme caution. I will be providing you with very specific low-orbit reentry coordinates. In exactly one hour, you will start your descent. Once you level off at an altitude of 35,000 feet, a squadron of U.S. F35A Lightning fighter jets will be ready to escort you down to Nellis Air Force Base, in Nevada. There can be no deviation from these directives. These highly trained airmen have orders to shoot you down at the slightest divergence of our instructions…”