It was then that he saw it. An impossible sight. Something so illegal, so banned that it shocked him to his core. A ship. A small one sure, landed in the centre of the pitch, running its entire length. The grass beneath was scorched where landing jets had fired. To land a ship on Earth was sacrilege, only heavily consecrated Council pilgrimage vessels were allowed in orbit, let alone to land. For once, Michael was speechless. The ship itself looked like a long, rounded tube, not unlike a large bullet. Four massive engines, two at the front and two at the back were angled downwards, whilst larger main drive engines protruded from the back. A menacing looking turret sat on the top, barrels pointed upwards.
“Oh hello! I am terribly sorry about this, Knower, I know it must all seem a bit much.” Michael turned to look at the source of the voice. It was a small alien, about three feet high. It had multiple segmented legs, at least six that Michael could see, though its head was beaked. Thick rainbow coloured feathers covered it, peeking out from the pale blue robe it wore. “We really couldn’t think of any way of getting you to us. I do hope that Aileena wasn’t too forceful.”
“He’s fine,” Aileena said, hopping down from the truck. “Though I will say the temptation to shoot him was high. Extremely high.” Two other aliens, the same species as Aileena had climbed out of the cabin of the lorry and were flanking her, large rifles braced in their arms. “You sure this is the right guy?”
“Oh certainly!” said the strange birdlike alien. “We know he doesn’t look like all that much, but this is him. The Knower.”
“Hey, what do you mean I don’t look like much? Listen what is going on?” Michael said. The beaked alien opened its mouth to reply but was cut off by a loud crack. One of the mercenaries behind Aileena dropped to his knees, a smoking hole where most of his head used to be. Thick crimson blood trickled down what remained of his chin before he slumped to the ground.
“Troopers!” Aileena said, firing back with her pistol. The Council soldiers were streaming onto the pitch, their bright red armour shining under the floodlights. They fired as they advanced, cold blank helmets aiming down sights as loud cracks burst from the barrels, brief green muzzle flashes blinking in time to the noise. “Everyone get in the ship, now!”
Michael didn’t move. They had come, just as he had hoped. He was saved. “Thank god you guys are here, these guys they—” He was cut off as Aileena slammed into him, tackling Michael to the ground, landing behind one of the stacks of crates that surrounded the landed ship. Hot metal showered his face as the side of the lorry exploded beside him. “They’re shooting at me! This is your fault, they think I’m with you!”
“Look, idiot, I don’t get paid if you’re dead. Get in the Rhythm forsaken ship. You either get in and come with us,” she reached around the crates and snapped off a shot with her pistol, “or I leave you here for the troopers to use as target practice. Your choice.”
Chapter Three
Michael sat behind the crates, hands clutching at his thick chestnut brown hair, curls twisting between his fingers. The loud cracking of weapons filled the world around him, sparks erupting as the shots landed, chunks of metal and grass flying into the air. The football pitch was slowly becoming a thick bog, mud churning up as the strange alien weapons obliterated the turf. Michael was rocking back and forth slightly, the crates wobbling as he did so.
“Come on then, make a fucking decision,” Aileena said, snapping off a shot with her pistol. She ducked, the air where she had been rippling with return fire. “Stay here and die or get in the ship.”
“I can’t, I can’t! I’m just some idiot from Tower Hamlets. You don’t want me. This must be wrong. It must be. If I can just explain to the troopers maybe they’ll let me go, yeah that sounds right.” Michael began to stand, only to be pulled back into the grass with a thump as Aileena grabbed his collar.
“What are you stupid? Those troopers are here for you. You really are thick, aren’t you? You’re the Knower, supposedly. You’re supposed to, well, know things. You climb out from these boxes and you’re going to be like Vergil there.” Aileena gestured the dead mercenary. Michael wasn’t sure if she was really so callous, or if it was a quirk of the translation device. “Come on make a choice, I’m not going to spend all day waiting for you to make your mind up.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t,” Michael said. He popped his head up above the crates, daring to peer at the troopers, knuckles white as his fingers gripped the edge of the cold metal box tightly. There was a burst of noise, and several large holes erupted into the metal around him. He collapsed back into cover, shaking. “Yeah, ok. The ship it is. Who the hell is going to save us? And where is that other guy the uh, bird-spider?” Aileena shook her head towards the lorry. Tucked behind the trailer was the other mercenary. Behind him was a cluster of rainbow feathers.
“You leave this to me. I am actually good at my job.”
“I never said you weren’t.”
“You implied it,” Aileena said, she glared at him with all six of her eyes.
“I honestly can’t remember when. Though truth be told you did kidnap me, not the best idea there. I’m telling you this is all a mistake. You’re going to feel so red-faced when you realise that. Oh, that’s not offensive to you, is it? Maybe being red-faced means something different to green people.”
There was another crack of a weapon, much louder and closer this time. A hole smoked in the crate next to Michael. Hot air rippled from the barrel of Aileena’s pistol. “Do you never shut up! Rhythm help me I will shoot you myself and just walk away from this if you say another stupid word.” She placed one finger onto his lip. Michael stared down at the dark green nail at the end. “Ah, I can see you thinking. Not one word.” She waggled the pistol in her hand. “Ok, you see that ramp that leads up into the ship?”
“Yeah, the… right, no words,” Michael said, switching to an exaggerated nodding.
“Just run when I say go. Don’t look back, don’t stop to ‘take in the planet one last time’ or any of the hundred other stupid things that people do when they get onto a ship. And I’m assuming it is your first time on a ship. Just get in and hunker down somewhere.”
“What about the others?”
“What did I say about speaking! They’ll be fine, Brekt can handle himself. And the little guy is faster than you would think, even with all those legs.”
“I would have thought that more legs would make you faster,” Michael said. Aileena curled her lip into a snarl. Michael pulled his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion, a gesture that only elicited a confused look from the green-skinned woman. “Shutting up,” he said, repeating the motion.
“Ok, so,” Aileena said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small silver orb. It was the size of a ping pong ball, an object Michael had become intimately familiar with during university, as opposed to lectures, books or anything that would have helped him to get the art history degree he was supposedly studying for. Beer pong champion wasn’t as impressive on a resume. “Let’s go then.”
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the gleaming ball over the crate. It hit the ground, digging into the turf as though it had an impossible weight. There was a low whine and a thin blue line stretched across its surface. With a bright flash the line burst outwards, forming a large shimmering translucent wall, the orb sat at the centre of its base. The rain of fire still cascaded from the troopers, green muzzle flashes strobing in the night, the floodlights reflecting off their crimson armour. The shots struck the wall, a ripple forming where each hit.
Michael did as he was told, breaking into a sprint, mud slapping at his trousers. They had started as the same brilliant white of his jacket suit, though like that they were now stained with dirt and grass stains. Mixed amongst those were faint dots of red. Splatter from the fallen alien. His shoes struck the pitch, slipping on the dew that had settled there, making it difficult to run. His shoes were white brogues, horrible uncomfortable things that he had ordered cheaply from eBay, originally for a wildly ill-considered Halloween costume.