Mission Accomplished

Must. Keep. Moving.

My body wants to shut down until it can fully regenerate. One foot is crushed and I think my arm is broken. But there is no time.

The soldiers shuffle down the alley, their guns darting back and forth as they pass doorways and stairwells. They pass my hiding place beneath a stack of cardboard boxes without detecting me.

A pool of thick green fluid has formed at my feet. I run my hands over my torso feeling for the source. My elbow bumps one of the boxes and it shifts. The soldiers stop. I hold my breath. After a few seconds of silence, they resume their sweep.

The leak is coming from somewhere beneath my utility belt. I feel no pain. I fumble for my healing device and jab the needle into my skin. It works instantly.

Up ahead is a warehouse whose heavy steel door can only be opened with the code I have stored in my membank. Stepping over the green puddle, I crawl quietly from my cardboard hiding place. The injuries have slowed my movement so it takes a few extra seconds to reach the door. I touch the rusted handle and a keypad appears. I enter the code and the door opens with a very audible click. I pause to see if the soldiers are close enough to hear.

Inside the warehouse is the headquarters we set up months ago when we landed. Computer monitors, cameras and detection fields come to life when I flip the red switch by the door. The room should have been busy with activity, but I am the last one alive. It is up to me now.

I slip off my utility belt and pull up my shirt. The faint outline of a bullet hole pulses beneath my skin. The bullet must be lodged inside. The healing device will keep it from leaking, for now, but eventually I will need to remove the bullet. If I live that long.

At the computer, I put in the coordinates. The machines silently process the data within seconds and a digital clock appears on the screen. Begin countdown? the computer asks. I hesitate, but only for a moment. This is why I came. This is why I left my familial core, my home, all that I know.

I am a Protector.

The countdown begins. I have only a few minutes to get to the transport. I fasten my utility belt around my waist and limp to the door. Shouts pierce the silence. I peer through a dirty window over the door and see the same soldiers gathered around my cardboard hiding place. They have discovered the fluid. I should have evaporated it before I moved but I was focused on making it to the warehouse.

I quickly review the scenarios we practiced before the mission. Avoiding contact with the humans is paramount; they must never know we were here. I know what I must do. I press a button on my utility belt and slip out a side door.

“Hey, something just moved up there,” I point my gun to a spot further down the alley. The metal helmet and heavy armor feel awkward. How do they manage to fight wearing all this? My voice sounds odd to me. But the unfamiliar language and the strange vibration of the sound leaving my mouth must sound normal to the soldiers. They turn and follow me down the alley.

I slow my steps to match theirs.

We stop outside a brick building with broken out windows and no doors.

“Rogers, Bennett,” one of the soldiers barks. “Spread out. We’ll try to flush him out.”

I follow him into the dark building. The odor of decay permeates the room. I can tell no life, other than rodent, has been here for some time. Of course, the human cannot detect this. We step gingerly over broken furniture, shards of glass and occasional piles of dried human excrement. We make it to the stairwell but it is completely blocked by concrete. The upper floor has caved in. We lower our weapons.

“No one’s here. Let’s get outta here.” The soldier turns and heads back the way we came.

I fall back behind the three of them as they move from the alley down the deserted street. A quick check of my watch shows I have only minutes remaining to reach the transport. I shed my disguise so I can move more quickly and backtrack to the warehouse, then slip through a narrow opening between the buildings. I dart from an abandoned car to a burned-out truck to a smoking stack of wooden pallets to cross the open field. In the distance, I see the shimmering image of the transport. Only a few yards till I’m on my way home.

“Stop!”

I freeze. It’s the soldier I searched the building with. I watch him approach. Strange that he keeps his gun lowered. Stranger still that he is not surprised by my appearance.

“I thought I recognized that smell.” He jabs the barrel of his gun directly into my bullet wound. I flinch. A thin line of green fluid streams down my torso.

As I watch, he shifts into a shape I know all too well.

Destroyer.

“You’re too late.”

He attempts a laugh but it comes out as a high-pitched scream. “It’s never too late to stop a Protector.”

He takes a step toward me but I touch my utility belt and reach the transport in the blink of an eye. Quickly, I punch in the door code and dart inside. As the door slides shut, the Destroyer appears behind me. He slips into a chair at the console and turns to me.

“What great catastrophe do you think you’ll prevent this time?” he growls.

“That’s a rhetorical question,” I reply. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know the answer.”

The Destroyer clicks his tongue in mock frustration. “You Protectors are all alike. So high and mighty. You think you can slip in to a civilization and change history and no one’s any wiser.”

His long nails flick across the console and the transport hums to life.

“That’s why they call us Protectors,” I respond. “Sometimes, we protect creatures from themselves. Otherwise, we’d be alone in the universe.”

The Destroyer points one sharp nail at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he smirks.

I glance at the countdown clock on the wall. The Destroyer follows my gaze, then jumps to his feet.

“What have you done?” he snarls. He punches a button affixed to his shirt. “Protector is attempting to complete mission. Requesting …” Static is the only sound he gets from his communication device.

“You Destroyers are all alike,” I interrupt. “Always so willing to let evil prevail. Not this time.”

The Destroyer lunges for me but I sidestep his attack. Suddenly, the giant view screen comes on. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. We have lift off! White clouds billow from beneath the cylindrical rocket as it launches into the sky. The Destroyer and I watch it begin its slow ascent.

Mission Control cuts to video shot earlier today. The bay doors of the rocket are open wide as workers wheel a massive metal device on board. The announcer describes the weapon and its killing potential. The video is replaced by another shot days earlier. In it, leaders from around the world take turns signing a “peace agreement,” then awkwardly shake hands. The U.S. president calls this “a new era of worldwide defense, protection from enemies throughout the universe.” All participating countries share equal access to the weapon “in case of extraterrestrial threats.”

I already know how that ends.

I keep my eyes on the Destroyer as he watches the screen. As the background shifts from blue to black, the rocket levels horizontally and slows. Next stop is the International Space Station where it will be mounted permanently.

The camera follows the rocket’s journey. Seconds later, it explodes into a fireball.

The Destroyer’s eyes widen.

“This is war,” he hisses, reaching for my throat.

“Actually, this will prevent war. Millions of humans will live. This planet will continue.”

The Destroyer shakes his head. “It’s only a matter of time until they try it again.”

I watch the countdown clock tick closer to zero.

“Maybe. But you and I won’t be here to see it.”

The explosives planted throughout our headquarters building began firing, flames licking through the windows like angry orange tongues. Shattered glass rains down on the invisible roof of the transport. The ground shakes beneath the transport and the Destroyer staggers. If I could just reach the console, I could get us out of here before –

“You think you’ve succeeded,” the Destroyer growls. “We know this species; one tweak to their timeline will not change the inevitable.”

Another explosion, this one a little closer, shakes the transport.

“That’s where we differ, my friend. I believe that small actions can add up to big changes. Whether or not that happens for this planet, well, only time will tell.”

The Destroyer stumbles toward me as another blast rocks the transport. Grabbing my shoulder with one clawed hand, he withdraws a slim blade from his armor. The metal is cold against my throat. I fall back against the console.

“We already eliminated two of your team this afternoon.”

So that’s what happened to them. When they did not return from loading the weapon on the rocket, I suspected the worst.

“You’re right,” he says. “They are small actions, for sure. Maybe one more small action – eliminating you – might lead to much greater results after all.” He presses the blade into my skin and I feel warm liquid ooze from the puncture.

I fumble behind me on the console, searching for the right switch to launch the transport. I close my eyes to better visualize the familiar display. My fingers find the star-shaped button and I line up my fingerprint against it. The take-off is so smooth and swift that neither of us even sway.

My opponent steps back and looks at the screen that shows Earth rapidly diminishing below us. He grins. It is a terrifying look that exposes each of his carefully sharpened teeth.

“Even better,” he roars, slipping the blade back into his armor. “You take me to your kind and I can destroy more of you. My brothers will track me and we will exact such judgment as has never been recorded among our people.” His eyes are crazed at the thought of a coming bloodbath.

I glance over my shoulder and find the location of the black and red switch on the console.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Destroyer.” I smash the button and the floor opens beneath him. For a millisecond, he is suspended in the shaft of light that will eject him into the void. Then, he is gone.

Mission accomplished.