On Earth

GETTING FROM HERE TO THERE
GEFFEN MARSH

 

It is flinty to replay. Novas were blowing in my life mega-events periphery. Some mudball was nuked by the Zerks; less priority than me not getting to screen my uncle's ranch in Peru.

 

Shalimar, it's invasion, not as mega as Candy Stubbens, the most limpic butterfly in the city, sitting next to me at the Funnel Concert.

 

Beta-Mar, bloopers chewing it, everyone basset faced and shuddery, wasn't near match the drip that I pratted physics with an underbelly and it was replay.  

 

My father dispenses this fleege.

 

"Geffen." Not Gef, or Point, or any easy. "Try to amplify your convolutions beyond immediates. We've lost two colonies, ten fleets, and the Zerks are currently attacking Xenos III--"

 

"Can I have ten credits?"

 

"Gef, don't drift. This is grim. This is war. And you might meander in it."

 

"Da, can I have 10 credits?"

 

"Lightspeed out of my visual range---"

 

This is how it played: I'm sixteen not prompt to face seventeen, much less Invasion. Hyper mins were gloombag, as if they could calculate the next screen. Two footers, scan myself, weren't principally dulled.

 

If you take your reality from Central you'd never pen how Zerks could put together a football team, less an army. Eat Central's version, why should we shake knee? That's how our brains were wired; Humans Top, Zerks Bottom. Until every screen darkclouded, outputing they, the Zerks are here.

 

It wasn't we had from New Year's to get ready, the Mil keeps facts in their encrypt file yet expects you to preps it. How can you scope what it is you don't scope?

 

Sudden, the Mil has reservists and other farts organizing us matching Cadets. Plus me has to gyrate with a mock blaster sporting soldier, and scan, I wonder if I shouldn't put the question to Candy Stubbins, then realize the male pop has beaten me to launch.

 

Everyone's trying to scope totality, buy everything, and this song everyone's singing until it was banned; a golden oldie when Dada was doing diapers, and it went scan noise noise, then;

                   "And There's No Tomorrow."
                   "Never ever and I say "
                  "Today was my Tomorrow."
                   And it's our Yesterday."
                 "Take It, Reap it, Make it Flow"
                 "Cause  there's no Tomorrow

             Take it all and  go."

Then pithy noise and matter, cutting in and crowd; banned.

 

The Box ran images of a battle which ends in the arrival of Lifeboats from Xenos III, and I was feeble of War.

 

One of the prof's at school came out with this hyperfart circling, "Grow up children, while there's time."

 

I onscreen Cathy DeFarge's house as her father was our general guru.  Bunny DeFarge had been TSF until Med-Dis. The Pop was onlining him as maybe he could offload data the rod wasn't spewing. He was probably enjoying the glam and stage of being the neighborhood Soc.

 

The data was he'd paralleled a Zerk personally, though he kept prefacing with 'I didn't know him well--.'

 

Perky Newman was chewing our military capabilities, DeFarge trying to make possibilities, but you could compute. In a multiple choice, it was scan, a) be conquered, b) get invaded c) get dead, d) all of the above.

 

Seemmed the Zerks onlined Shalimar Tuesday morning, Tuesday evening, put out Ubern. On Thursday, it was Beta Mar.   Friday morning they ate the entire Third Fleet of the TSF. On Friday afternoon they owned Xenos III, took a weekend break, cept for hobby, obsoed our outposts Pluto to Mars.

 

On Monday morning the Lifeboats arrived from Xenos with TSF officers, all gurgling about what happened, where, and who. Then it was Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. I was sleeping, didn't remember which way the door. Tremors, scan quakes; Da got us in the bomb shelter.

 

It was the pinprick moment of my span. This is serious. I could get hurt. I could get--the Big Red Card.

 

The com printsout bombs only ate Mil stuff, not civ and I'm thinking, keep the cream for last.
I'm sixteen and if I got to obsoe, let me get fifteen minutes with Candy.

 

My mother overloads in the shelter with the Simmonds, they don't online. She offs the screen, Da follows. Then me.

 

All clear wasn't given, but everyone's on the street, and I'm scoping the sky. You can scope life boats coming down; the what's left of the Fleet. This can't be playing. It's too fast.

 

People go fruity, the cops are out with supermil power. They toss a curfew. I get parked in front of the com but can't learn anyway.  

 

I onscreened Cathy's cause we were allowed walkabout during sun time. People were sleeping at night, waking at sunrise. It was The end of the world.

 

DeFarge was with other mil types. I was atom splitting and output, "What do they want? Why don't they printout?" Cause we didn't get no statement from space, no; "Attention Earthlings, you have now been Conquered--" or anything like that to make it certain.

 

There was brass at DeFarge's kotch. Captains, spin the finger, Captains! One Shuman, the other Pullson.

 

Pullson up volumes, "Key Monster is the data tech?"

 

"I heard the scuttlebutt--" Bunny plies.

 

"It's not drift glass--it's hardcore." Shuman blasts.

 

"Give me some gravity." I call.

 

"Frail Min--", outputs Shuman, "Go outside and breathe, as there won't be much air in a short."

 

You pute why these porgs lost the war. They have the software but encrypt it. Then, match a fart busting when the vent's closed.  It's sour to tag output in this mil encrypty, as if it's need to know. But, what the nova can they solve anyway?

 

I can't find a help key.

 

So I'm standing there and glom Clint, we match orbs and evacuate. We just go walking, there's the flyer terminal. He does a lean on a fence and outputs, "Those are the drift glass. Them there."

 

"Online."

 

 

"They've onscreened Bunny from dawn and scan they can't give two words to make it sleek. They got blame talk. Once you've lost the match; matter who's fault?"

 

"They should have called for subs in half time."

 

"Gef, you got the grid. If we'd could off crustertown, we'd brave new world it. But the crusters make it flinty to find the north pole."

 

"My mother's going psychotic and didn't plus pass neurotic. What are they going to do, the Zerks? They've conquered us, fair?"

 

"I import we can't bus to Mars--so scan they get the Galaxy."

 

"But what's the prog? Has anyone gone up?"

 

"A couple of boats." Clint shrugged. One white to show truce--they dusted it. They dust anything that slips atmosphere."

 

"I wanted a readout from Bunny what the Zerks match, but them brass ass quarks seem drunk."

 

"They've been polluting and cursing, blaming Dak something, who's keyed to have betrayed the TSF to the Zerks or compatible programme."

 

"It's times scan these I wish I onlined school."

 

"School, Gef? School don't teach DOS! That's the prob. If they'd input reality, we wouldn't be here now."

 

"Online. Exactly my prog..."

 

Clint is looking at the flyers and joke I go; "You think we can borrow one?

 

"If we don't cut Strato, why the whip not!"

 

"Hey! You scan they'll box us?"

 

We were cracking face, glomming the hanger with it's minor flyers for rent, lease, sale, or hire.
If we took one on a circle tour it would bring an Admonish and Dismiss (after Da paid for our airtime).

 

Clint started his step, I followed. The next thing is we've copped a flyer and are moving East, and maybe this isn't such a good idea. We're dancing across the Atlantic, the Ocean doesn't know it's been conquered.

 

"My father will kill me." I prende.

 

"Think of this way, maybe we'll be nuked first."

 

"Couldn't be that lucky. He'll kill me, then, we'll get nuked."

 

"Hey--look--it's them, it's the Zerks!"

 

Clint matched them on the scanner and we glommed each other if we kept going we'd scope them closeup, if we wanted safebe we'd offthescreen.

 

Okay, we've now stolen the flyer--we're more than 100k from where it was, so I think it's called grand larceny. Might as well keep going.

 

Clint cut our speed to creep not to match attack. Then he offed the engine, glided us to the other side of forest. It was quiet. We matched orbs, evacuated the flyer. We went through the bushy area. It was about twenty meters scan a boarder. We got real softpedal, made a sneaky glom. There, foreground were Zerks!

 

We saw Zerks. No dust!

 

They had landed their flyers on the other side of  the green and were standing around outputting.  I glommed their flyers. Didn't scan pretty as ours with colours and waxed. The Zerk flyers flyers matched a bat, endable wings, body a fat slug. But it was the Zerks to scope.

 

They were big. 2+ meters up, broad, not oafsy as we were onlined. They walked light, moved eager. I imagined getting one of them to play Defense--.

 

Their language was assorted throat clearings, hawking, dog growl; if they output hello, it'd sample bounce your mother.

 

Some had Extra vehicular Suits in black and white, others popping out of saucers didn't, they had on uniforms. It wasn't matching the kind our mil wore. No long body suit in shiny viro.  The Zerks wore double thick like leather with belts and holsters, gloves and boots. The top gaped, so a heap of skin was out. They had scars, real old time stitching, wicked.

 

Their chests were bulged, boasting, and their faces couldn't crack.

 

In the midst of them, was a saps. He printsout puny, Mercury to Venus, though he was Clint's size. The Zerks had him not playing motion. Seemed the Zerks were waiting.  

 

You could solve the Zerks were privates or low status because they all mainframed when another onlined. I puted this the leader.

 

The leader Zerk up volumed to the human,"What creates there?" In English.

 

The human was shakeknee, couldn't output. Scopes the Zerk and offlines. A Zerk caught him, lowered him to the ground.

 

The leader Zerk scanned, output, walked to where we were, almost and pissed. I swear. The Zerk opened his suit, as a saps and pissed as a saps and what he pissed from matched a man.
Clint and I made two plus two. We were that jumped by it.

 

The leader shouted at the private Zerks, then two went walking towards the factory.  Now, anybody could scan a sign, "AdeJemi Pharmaceuticals." So they prob made drugs, but the Zerks likely didn't input the sign.

 

Me and Clint are gloming, not watching our backs. A sound, we turn, behind us, caught in photo-eye, one Zerk.  Before the first grunt, he's bitten by one snake if I'd seen I'd jumped hyperspace.

 

Long and fat as exhaust pipe, the Apple Zerk didn't scope the snake. Snake probably indecisive whether to bite me or Clint, bit the Zerk. The Zerk grabs his arm. Clint is up, doing his bit for promo of the Explorer Scout's Medic division.

 

Here's Clint, grabs the Zerk's arm, cuts it with one of knives the Zerk has on his belt and starts suck the poison. The Zerk is scoping Clint and he must have been a genius; if I were Zerk I'd scope Clint was going to eat my arm.

 

The Blood was Red!

 

"Gef, tie this off--" Clint outputs, after he spits on the ground, and as I usually listen I got a piece of vine, made a tourniquet.

 

"Gef--in the flyer, probe a First Aid Kit?"

 

I forgot to mention the entire squad of Zerks are glomming me and Clint.   I get the kit, crack it, find an inoculation pretending I've done this before, shoot the Zerk. Clint is outputting sit down, because if the Zerk falls, he'll crush and the leader translates. The Zerk sits.

 

The snake is on a rock, scoping. Clint outputs sample calm; "Um, I think you should er kill the snake in case he bites anyone else. Since the venom is poisonous."

 

The leader moves his hand. Check he had his weapon on us from onscreen. Therefore ends Mr. Snake.

 

The Zerk is scanning me and he's got the rashest eyes. No

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.10.2021
ISBN: 978-3-7487-9742-5

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