Alien Obsession

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- 19 Years Ago - 2038 A.D -

- 2nd Year of the First Aarkorian Invasion -

The sound of whirring quantum engines roared in her ears. Twenty clicks away and yet the shockwaves of the massive spaceships made the house shake. It trembled on its crumbling wooden frame. That unmistakably putrid scent of burning fuel screamed through her senses. They were finally leaving.

The TV in front of her hissed to life. Stripes of colour interrupting the live feed of the security cameras. Two broadcasters flickered onto the screen. Dressed in polished black suits with red ties hanging from their necks. There weren’t many clothes left from before the war, those were practically vintage. A waste on Admin sellouts like Jane Williams and David Richardson; journalists that catered to government whims like the sheep they are.

“Attention citizens of Earth. We present an announcement on behalf of the Terrestrial Protection Administration. The alien species known as the Aarkorians have fled Earth after their two-year-long attack on the planet ended. Anyone currently watching, you are part of the 0.8% who survived the invasion. The Administration personally congratulates you for your tenacity.” Williams gestured to the corner of the screen which beheld the death count that now ground to a halt. Stopping at over 7,933,000,000 dead.

By her calculations, that meant only 67 million humans remained alive. Better than the projections made last month. But last month no one knew they’d leave. No one thought this nightmare would ever come to an end.

She remembered the day they arrived. She would never forget.

In August of 2036, she was busy in the kitchen making breakfast for her daughter, Selphie. When James, her ex-husband, started pounding on the front door. Demanding that they both get in his car and he would drive them to the nearest army base. She knew he wouldn’t show up and start making orders unless it was life or death. So she took Selphie and went with him. No questions asked.

As they were pulling past the base gates, the ground tore apart. The military radio in the car went mayhem. She could only make out a few words between the ringing in her ears. ′Washington down. The entire state has been levelled.′

When the world finally stood still James grabbed her hand and turned off the radio. He explained that an unknown spacecraft entered the atmosphere and made contact. The government had been communicating with it since then. He then said the spacecraft was from another planet, called Aarkos. They had suffered an extinction-level event. All the females of their species had died out and they’d searched through space for lifeforms with similar enough biology to interbreed with. They found humans to be a good match. He also explained that just one hour prior, the US had fired a nuke into the spacecraft.

Pretty swiftly after that, the death toll started to update hourly. The landing of the warships only made it worse. Tens of thousands of brutally trained alien warriors equipped with high-tech weaponry, unlike anything on Earth. With arguably the world’s greatest military in shambles, they took whatever they want and the planet fell to shit.

However, the collapse led to the creation of the Terrestrial Protection Administration (TPA). A unified military force that emerged as humanity’s last line of defence. Divided into three sectors - North (Europe and Asia), South (Africa and remnants of Australia), and West (the Americas) - the TPA aimed to protect what remained.

Most people sought refuge with them and their various bunkers that lay safe beneath the surface of the Earth. But there were conditions. You had to work a job. Often a dangerous and or back-breaking one. They didn’t care if you were sick, injured, or elderly. The only mercy they bestowed was upon children under the age of 15. Who they sent to specialized schools to train to be doctors or elite soldiers.

So many stayed on the surface. These people became known as scavengers. They were a strange lot. Some were friendly and humane. Simply wanting freedom from the Admin. Others were wretched. They hunted down women so they could be killed before aliens got their claws on them.

But over time even the kind ones grew wicked, for survival on the surface was nigh impossible. When the warships landed they brought with them horrors from deep within the cosmos. Alien creatures of war and suffering, untameable even by their masters. They wreaked havoc on the surface in a war not even the bombs and bullets could.

The aliens knew of the danger and offered any women they found food, shelter and protection. In return, they’d become the mother to a hybrid. Many were hesitant at first, but as winter approached, countless gave in and chose lives of comfort.

She had used to think them crazy. But after the incident, she knew they couldn’t be all that bad compared to the TPA.

Her attention flashed back to the TV. “We have been ordered to announce the beginning of Operation Homecoming. Henceforth, the Terrestrial Protection Administration will begin mass-producing weapons and ammunition. In response to the Aarkorians claiming that there will one day be a secondary invasion. All able bodies are encouraged to locate the nearest bunker to be given factory assignments in return for food rations and shelter.”

She could only imagine what would happen if they were to invade again. The sheer chaos and destruction. Part of her wished she wouldn’t be alive to see it.

“The Administration will also be implementing Project Cambion. In which they will train the few hybrids left here on Earth to become elite soldiers for when the second invasion arrives.”

She knew of the TPA’s psychotic delusions of creating their own army of super soldiers from the very creatures that threatened their world. They had done several experiments and scientific studies. Dissecting every piece of the Aarkorians and discovering how they functioned; learning what traits they deemed useful enough to make use of.

Her eyes darted to the cradle that had been set up beside the couch, and the tiny shape that lay within it. The hybrid Aarkorian-Human infant was only a few weeks old. The baby had a greyish pallor to her otherwise tawny skin and golden eyes. A spined tail curled across a chubby stomach and two grey horns sprouted from a smooth forehead, a small curl of black hair between them.

The little creature was helpless without her. Would be killed because of her extraterrestrial heritage, or worse... Turned into one of the TPA’s war dogs. She wouldn’t be helpless for long, after all. One day she would be every bit as deadly as those alien invaders; all teeth and claws. For now, she was a bundle of sweet innocence, unaware of the monsters that lurk just outside.

She thought about how its alien father would never know he’d had a daughter, the one thing his species had craved so desperately. That he’d returned to the warship not aware she’d been pregnant, believing her infertile.

Part of her missed him, or perhaps she missed the idea of this child being raised with its father. She and him hadn’t been some whirlwind forbidden love story. Simply a business transaction. A child in exchange for his protection from the TPA. A protection he very easily gave up when the time came to return home.

The sound of the front door splintering made her jump from her seat on the couch. She watched in horror as heavily armoured gun-toting soldiers ran into the room, barrels pointed at her and the infant as they spilled in like a medieval plague.

They stayed silent, staring at her through pitch-black visors. Soulless and empty like the demons they claimed the aliens were. They stood with bated breath, awaiting their commands. The static of their radio and the crunch of their rubber boots on wooden floors deafening in the quiet of their dreaded presence.

Then a tall figure entered the room, dark taupe trench coat pulled tightly against his form. A cloud of smoke wafted in as he stepped through the threshold, his face obscured. His steel-toed shoes clicked like hands on the clock of doom.

But she knew who it was. Death himself. General Roman Vaughn. The head of the West Admin. James’ son of a bitch boss.

He leaned forward, putting out his cigar on her coffee table; leaving singe marks behind. He waited for the smoke to clear out of his face and his grizzled features became clear. Those sinister eyes regarded her with promises of violence as he beheld the sorry state she was in. The deep trenches of his scars were prominent in the faulty lighting. His weathered beard made him look older than he was, not that the stress of the war hadn’t aged him already.

“Dr. Nicholson, do you know how hard it’s been to find you?” he chuckled. “Luckily we still had access to your tracking implant. Otherwise, we might’ve taken a hell of a lot longer.”

That was the point of her hiding away in this wretched farmhouse after all. To make it harder for them to find her and her infant. She had hoped to live at least another year there. Until her daughter could at least walk. She knew hybrids would grow quicker and more independently. So she would be able to focus on her own survival as well, instead of just caring for the child.

“If only,” she spat, a soldier edged closer but Vaughn waved them off. He didn’t see her as a threat anymore.

The baby started to whine beside her. Whatever alien genetics she possessed made her able to sense the tension in the room. Similar to what all the other Aarkorians had been able to do, her sire especially. Their senses were what made them such deadly predators and elite fighters.

Her eyes started darting between the tiny thing and Vaughn’s vile face, gauging whatever reaction he might have. He stayed expressionless; an annoying trait this neurotic madman has mastered in his many years of lunacy. Vaughn merely took a few steps closer, peering into the crib with a raised brow. The baby started screaming when it saw his face instead of its mother’s.

No. No. No.

He was going to kill her. The TPA was never going to leave a female hybrid alive. They would only want males as their soldiers. Not her. She wouldn’t let her daughter die. She couldn’t.

“What is this?” he smirked at the infant. “You were hiding a secret all this time.”

He clicked his tongue. “Fraternizing with the enemy? Really, Amelia? What would your husband think?”

“Ex-husband,” she gritted out between sobs. Of course, Vaughn would disrespect her in every way possible. That god complex of his matched with his overwhelming ego was enough to make him even more unpredictable than he already was. More of an asshole, too.

She bit down a wail as he grabbed her daughter by the scruff of her neck. He stared down at it, looking half disgusted and half intrigued. She could see the thoughts flickering behind his eyes as realization clicked and the ideas flowed in. He took great interest as he made mental note of the infant’s horns and tail. She knew that her daughter had a high content of Aarkorian blood, her sire had mentioned that his family’s genes were dominant even back on Aarkos. That no doubt pleased Vaugh, and worried her...

“How old?” he asked.

“5 weeks,” she whimpered.

“Oh? This one’s a quick grower. None of the other half-breeds are growing this fast. I’m sure this one will make an excellent little killing machine,” his gaze finally met hers. “What is its name?”

She froze. Her eyes stung with tears and her body was wracked with silent sobs. Dread pooled low in her gut and she pleaded with every god she knew to grant her some kind of mercy. But she knew deep down. That if there were any gods, they were far from merciful. But if they possessed even a shred of mercy. Of justice. Then they would head her call. Lest they feel the wrath of a mother’s fury.

“Don’t look so scared Amelia. I promise he can keep his name once he starts training as a soldier.”

She unintentionally flinched every time Vaughn said ‘he’. Something flickered behind those lifeless eyes. He stood straight and gave the baby a closer look. A chuckle passed his cracked lips.

“This little creatin is a female, isn’t it?” he mocked.

She fell to her knees. “Please! Please don’t kill her, Roman!” Her words shifted to incoherent blabbering as panic took over. She couldn’t live with herself if she let her daughter die. The last chance she had. Since she’d so royally fucked up the last one.

“However did the demons leave without this one?” he scoffed.

She looked down. “Her sire didn’t know.”

Vaughn started to cackle. “How hilarious! Those filthy invaders came all the way here only to leave without the very thing they came for! I find myself quite entertained.”

“Please don’t hurt her! She’s just an infant!”

“Under normal circumstances, I would kill her... but she might very well be a perfect soldier. A quick grower. A fierce little attitude. An occasionally intelligent mother. A high-ranking official for a stepfather. What more could a sick bastard like me hope for?” he paused, a venomous smile stretching across his gaunt features. “I think I’ll let this one live. What did you name her?”

“Xarenna,” she mumbled.

“And the sire’s last name?”

She looked up, confused. “Rhavan?”

“Xarenna Rhavan. Now that is a warrior’s name. What a wonderful addition to Cambion.”

Vaughn handed off the infant to the nearest soldier and proceeded to wipe off his hands. As if he’d just touched a toxic substance. He’d regret ever touching her. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. He didn’t deserve anything.

“Don’t take her! I swear to god, Vaughn! I’ll-”

“What will you do, Amelia?” He hissed, gesturing to the gun-wielding soldiers on either side of him. They tightened their grips, fingers ready on the triggers. She paused, but only for a moment. Those pesky maternal instincts won out in the end.

She went to lunge for him. The soldier closest to her smashed his gun into her forehead. Knocking to the floor. She coughed and sputtered. Black dots filled the corners of her vision as she tried and failed to sit up. Her body felt weak and useless. So unlike itself. She hated it. She hated Vaughn. She hated everything. Bile rose in her gut but she ignored it.

“Dispose of her,” he ordered and turned back to give her one last look. “Goodbye, Amelia.”

She started screaming, begging, pleading; anything to get to Xarenna. Watching helplessly as her daughter was carried away. She clawed at the floors. Trying to pull herself forward to her daughter. Nails dug into the hardwood as she sobbed louder. Her voice already hoarse and deathlike. She wailed even as her throat burned and chaffed; ordering her to stop. She would not obey. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

She was silenced with a chuckle and the hiss of a gunshot.