I listened to the message sent to most of the leaders of the world and it was one that left nothing to the imagination; surrender or die. The next message was equally blunt; it was the coordinates of an asteroid the size of a shopping mall. It was going to slam into Earth, somewhere, unless the demands were met. The list of demands seemed fairly benign for the people of Earth. The list included the dismantling of all nuclear weapons of any size, every aircraft carrier was to be taken into deep water and sank. Submarines were to be sank. All ballistic missiles were to be decommissioned. Land mines were to be outlawed and those deployed were to be deactivated. Fighter aircraft, cruise missiles, and battle tanks were on the list of the next items to be destroyed, provided the first list was completed on time. The asteroid would hit in one year.
NASA was able to confirm there was an object coming in from beyond Jupiter, nickel and iron in composition, heading right towards us. The message, sent in various forms, using wireless technology, was untraceable as to its origin. Unknown to most people on Earth, and actually known to only a few dozen, there were plans to protect the planet from just such and event, as far as an asteroid was concerned. The message was less than twenty-four hours old, and the confirmation just a few minutes from being made, when a rocket lifted off from Russian, with a probe to investigate the incoming object.
What happened next was as sudden as it was horrible. Much smaller meteoroids, some the size of basketballs, and others the size of houses, began to slam into cities. For a week, hundreds, and then thousands of objects came streaking out of the sky and pounded the most heavily populated areas on Earth. There were stories of aliens coming out of the objects and killing people with weapons that made no sound and produced no light. There were stories about diseases running rampant, and even one about robots landing and killing people. But the truth was much more horrible. Nothing we did anywhere stopped what was happening. On the seventh day, the carnage stopped, with nearly every city on Earth with a population of one million or more, still smoking from the damage. Millions of people were killed, many times that number were fleeing, and the wounded were being lined up and treated in the streets.
The next message was brutal in its simplicity. “Begin work on the list. We will evaluate your progress in seven days.”
The next few days were filled with images of huge ships of war sinking under the waves, missiles being cut into pieces, and nuclear weapons being dismantled. But there was something odd about television and the internet now. It seems to be afterimages on the screen, as if a person stared long enough, there was a face, or faces, staring back behind the screen. The reports of robots and aliens did come from usually reliable sources, and those sources denied having ever broadcast those reports. We knew our communications had been hacked and were being manipulated. Accounts on social media began to post comments that read, “This might be the best thing that ever happened to us, maybe we should demand the governments do more to save us!” What they were doing was very clear. Who they were was not as clear.
The video of an American submarine sinking with its hatch open was hard to watch. My family had more than one relative to serve underwater, and it was personal to see an undamaged ship, paid for with my tax dollars, to simply be destroyed for unknown reasons to an unknown entity. Yet the “Peacemakers” as the social media groups were calling those who were doing this, were not talking to us very much.
“Good progress, but more should be done quickly, we shall help in our own way, if more progress is not made,” was the message and everyone knew how they planned to assist us in destruction.
I wondered why they didn’t. Was there a reason they warned us about a rock big enough to cause catastrophic damage heading our way, yet reacted with violence at the launch if a probe? Surely, if they were interested in peace they would have killed one million people in one week, and left thousands homeless and wounded. It was clear they were manipulating social media, random accounts, fake accounts, government accounts, millions of them every day, but to what end? No one knew. I certainly had no idea, but the problems that had begun to mount up when all of this began, threatened to overwhelm me, and my office.
As the first female sheriff in Brooks County, I knew damn well I was going to have problems, even before the aliens, or whoever it was, started throwing rocks at us. I actually had planned to ride it out, not run for reelection, and move to a place not named for a proslavery Senator who neatly killed a man on the floor of the Senate because that man spoke against slavery. My deputies treated me like I was just passing through, and the Board of Commissioners were useless when it came to trying to discipline my own employees.
A month after the first message, I was in my office trying to figure out what the hell to do with a budget that allowed me to pay nearly everyone in uniform, and keep gas in most of the cars, and hey, maybe even buy everyone a bullet or two, when the only deputy I could truly trust, Harlow Cox, walked into my office and told me there was an alien in the parking lot. The thing had asked for a meeting in my office in a few minutes. I could hear it coming into the building because it tore the front door totally off the frame.
Harlow stood behind my desk, beside me, and I wondered if anyone was going to be stupid enough to shoot at it.
“Good morning, Sheriff Wanda Louise Alexander Morrison,” the thing said, “congratulations, we have appointed you District Manager. In your jail, who is your worst offender? Please bring him to me at once.”
End Part One.