Leader of the Resistance (part 2)
a novella by Frank Pipp & Bruce H. Markuson, illustrations by Michelle Markuson
Click the link for part 1 of “Leader of the Resistance.” Part 2 below, with more still to come!
Chapter Three
Aliens Moving In
Day 89
I wake curled up in the corner. Suddenly, all the lights come on. Someone has turned on the house backup generator. I have full power again. Maybe Dad’s home. I check the security monitors but no. Someone or something is walking up to the house.
The house was built after the Cuban Missile Crisis. It’s made of reinforced concrete. Dad had also put in a special bulletproof front door that swings outward in case he ever had to break out in a gunfight. There’s no way they could get in.
Suddenly the door opened. “I suppose it would have helped if I had actually locked the front door before I went into the bunker,” I said to myself.
There was something in my house, and it wasn’t human. I suppose their plan was that after humans have been eliminated why not just move into their houses. I looked again at the security system monitor. Two monkey-looking things. A male and a female. Small, agile, and quick moving. The male was wearing little boy’s clothes. He has a fire truck T-shirt that doesn’t quite reach his shorts. The female was wearing a little girl's dress as she was clinging on to him for dear life when they entered my house.
“Ger ak ak”
“Yeurp”
“Ak Ak”
“Gruzz ur lep.”
I could hear them talking.
“Lily, please speak the human language. Use English,” he told her.
“Gruzz rue…. why, Peter?”
“The directive, Lily. We must study the human culture and technology and report back to the Vespula.”
“I’m sick of doing what they tell us.”
“Shush, Lily. That’s blasphemy.”
“They aren’t listening.”
“Lily, never, ever, talk of this again. We are privileged to serve the Vespula in all its glory.”
They went about setting up equipment in the house without speaking. Are they planning to colonize Earth?
She asked, “Are there any humans left on this planet. What did you say this planet is called?”
“In human words, it's called Earth. And as far as I know…” he paused. “The plague was quite thorough. If not, the poisoned vaccines would finish off the rest of the humans. As far as I know, most should be dead. Victory is assured. These humans had no idea what happened to them.”
She asked. “Could we be affected by the plague?”
“It was bioengineered to last two months. It's gone by now.”
“How long will we be living here?”
“For the next solar year or so. Until the Vespula obtain their objective. Whatever that is.”
“Peter, you know my time will come before then.”
“Yes, I am aware.”
“What is this place, Peter?”
“It is a nineteen-sixties split level ranch home, a typical human dwelling.”
“Why here?”
“It’s in an isolated location on top of this mountain and has a large satellite dish in the backyard we can use to transmit data to the Vespula. This is our new home on this planet. Lily, we need to hook up the satellite dish for transmission. I am done with our first report.”
Day 90
These things, aliens, look like macaque monkeys but they talk and act human. They are opening every drawer and cabinet in the house. The female grabbed one of my Dad’s rifles but the male seemed to get angry as she was examining it.
“Be careful, Lily,” he said to her. “As those are human weapons for killing. We must report all weapons to the Vespula. I will make a list of each one.”
She spent some time at my Dad’s bookshelf and took a special interest in the military history books about the French Resistance of World War II and The Fall of the Roman Empire when the male entered the room.
He immediately told her, “All the books have to be destroyed so we don’t pick up any subversive ideas. I will build a fire pit outside and burn them.”
I couldn’t stop watching them. I had to do something. I turned on the speaker system. There was a static “click” when I turn the knob.
That startled them. They froze. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
Their heads spun looking for where the voice is. The male had some sort of handheld electronic device. He was scanning the rooms in the house.
I repeated. “GET OUT NOW! YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED IF YOU LEAVE NOW.”
I used a strong calm voice like Dad taught me to do in dangerous confrontations.
“Hey, Dad, you forgot about survival training for aliens!” Maybe I should have listened when he talked about the Zombies crap.
Silence
“Who are you?” said the female frantically. “I must notify the Vespula.”
The male was still scanning the rooms in the house. “No. No. Wait.” He suddenly ordered.
She defers to him. I make note of that.
He spoke, “Young One, I see you have a security system in this house. I assume that you are hidden somewhere safe and are spying on us via video cameras and microphones. Am I also to assume that you are well-armed with weaponry?”
The female grabbed his hand at the sound of the words “well-armed with weaponry.”
“YOU ARE CORRECT ON ALL YOUR ASSUMPTIONS. NOW GET OUT!”
He continued, “Young One, allow me to introduce myself. Our species is called the Ceboideans. My assigned female has given me a name in human words, Peter. It means the rock she clings to. I have given her the name in human words, Lily, my beautiful and delicate flower. Who are you and what do you want with us? Use human words.”
I guess my threatening voice did not seem to be working. I decided to use a calmer voice. “It’s nice to meet you. Now I want you to get out of my house.”
“Young One, we are servants of the Vespula. We must ask you to please leave.”
“Who are the Vespula?”
“In human words they are a wasp-like creature but probably more akin to slave-maker ants of your planet. The Vespula is an insect species, the ruling species of much of the galaxy. We are their property.”
“Their slaves,” I responded.
“Yes, in human words, their slaves. The Vespula came to your planet specifically looking for something. We were sent here to prepare for their eventual colonization.”
“Why haven’t you called them? You seem resistant.” He seemed to flinch at the word “resistant.”
He continued, “Young One, we could be destroyed by a Vespula retaliation. They may assume we are disloyal if only for talking to you. They may simply display our dead or dying bodies as an example to others. Please leave this place and never come back.”
“Display your dead or dying bodies, just like the Romans.”
“It’s happened here on Earth?” he answered.
“Yes, however, like all empires, the Romans fell.”
“An empire fell? Young One, is that possible?”
“Quite possible, we are forming an Earth resistance as we speak,” I lied in a desperate attempt to scare him. However, he referred to me as “Young One,” hardly scary.
“If you leave my house and leave it undamaged I will let you live.”
He told the female, “Stay calm.”
“Young One, I am the chief engineer for the Queen. They may protect us if they feel we are of value. The Ceboidians are their technical and manual labor. We provide the Vespula with their food, power, infrastructure, all of their resources that maintain their warrior class status.”
So I asked him, “Like a slave-based Spartan society. And if all that was disrupted, if all that disappeared?”
He paused as if he never thought of this before. Walking over to the bookshelf he took down, “Fall of the Roman Empire.”
With the book in his hand, he continued. “Young One, if all that disappeared then, like on Earth, their empire could possibly… could possibly fall.”
“Why? Why would you defy your empire?”
“When I was young I was torn from my mother's arms at a very young age and sent away for language and engineering training in service to the Vespula. And now my assigned female is pregnant, and the Vespula does not know.”
I redirected the question in his way of speaking. “Use your human words.”
“My assigned female.” He paused. “My wife and I are expecting a child. And I don’t want her to live the way I have. Young One may I ask what is your name.”
I found an opening to a possible alliance. How else would I get out of here? What kind of life would there be on Earth unless the Vespula are defeated? “My name is Hope Fallon. Perhaps we can work out an agreement. Are you willing to form an insurgency, a resistance?”
“A resistance?” he asked.
“Create an underground guerrilla army to counter the Vespula.”
He responded, “I see you have an extensive book collection. I’m assuming you are quite knowledgeable on the subject. Your name, Hope, it means: ‘a feeling of expectation and desire’; Hope: ‘grounds for believing that something good may happen’. Young One, I have the hope that my child will grow up in freedom.”
Still, he scanned the rooms in the house. “Young One, it is of the utmost critical importance that you stay where you are. Your location is safe. If I can’t find you, the Vespula can’t. Now, what do we need?”
“In a resistance, the goal is not necessarily to kill or eliminate the enemy.
You will need a slow disruption from within and sabotage their food, power and infrastructure. And since they are on Earth they have to believe only humans are fighting back.”
Peter asked, “Humans—why only humans?”
“Because the Vespula can never lose trust in the Ceboideans. The Ceboideans must be given more and more important responsibilities while humans are blamed for all the sabotage. ”
“Why must we have more important responsibilities?”
“The initial sabotage can only do so much.”
“Why is that?”
“They will cluster together, and not allow any of the enemy near them. Requiring more and more soldiers to guard everything. However, it was said, ‘He who guards everything guards nothing’.”
“Yes, I see. In the past Ceboideans were given more responsibility when soldiers were needed elsewhere.”
“Exactly, responsibility for critical operations. But to completely defeat them, humans and Ceboideans would have to get inside their defenses, inside their most critical operations.”
“Inside critical operations run by Ceboideans?”
“Yes,” I answered. It seemed like Peter was beginning to understand.
“But won’t you be putting humans at risk?” he asked.
“The Vespula has already invaded our planet and wiped most of us out. This will give the rest of us a fighting chance.”
“Oh, but is it actually possible?”
So I answered, “It was said that if a conventional army does not win, they lose, but if a guerrilla army, a resistance, doesn’t lose, they win. My father taught me all these things. My grandfather fought in Vietnam. The U.S. pulled out after many years of fighting.”
“Pulled out of a war?” Peter sat there stunned.
“Your nation, your powerful nation was defeated by a resistance?”
“Yes,”
“Then it is actually possible?” a saw a slight smile on his face as if a world of hope came over him.
He walked up to my dad’s bookshelf took down the book “WAR STRATEGIES OF THE VIET CONG” and commented. “I shall add this to my reading list.”
So I told him, “Tell you what, sit at the dining room table at 10:00 AM Earth time every morning. I can help you. But you will need to start immediately. Let them think the humans have retaliated as a whole. The first has to be one massive attack. As much damage as possible must be done in that first attack.”
“I see, once there is an initial attack they will always be on their guard after that. Always looking over their shoulder.”
So I responded, "As we will always be looking over our shoulders."
I continued, “It has to be a constant demoralizing campaign. But after that first attack, the element of surprise is lost. And one more thing. You will need a leader of the resistance.”
Then Peter said to me, “Hope: ‘a person or thing that may help or save someone.’”
I thought to myself, “What did I get myself into?”
Chapter Four
Leader of the Resistance
Day 91 10:00 AM
This morning, Peter was sitting in front of the security camera, waiting to hear from me. On the table in front of him were a few of my father’s books. Some were old, faded and peeling. The edges were worn, and several page corners were bent.
One was titled “SNARES, BOOBY TRAPS, AND SABOTAGES.”
He also had another book entitles “THE FRENCH RESISTANCE OF WORLD WAR II.” And, of course, “WAR STRATAGIES OF THE VIET CONG.”
“Good Morning, Young One.”
“Good morning, Peter.”
“Young One, I have gathered up many followers. We spent much of yesterday and all last night working. We have cut power and water supply lines, rigged bridges to fall and sabotaged communications throughout the Vespula network.”
I went “WHAT?” He listened to me. My own father never listens to me.
Well, that seemed simple enough.
He continued, “Also we set up snares, tiger traps, and Punji Pits in the surrounding forest area along the Vespula patrol routes.”
I asked Peter, “What were the result of that? Perhaps, if they do not patrol the forest anymore, we can use that to our advantage if we need to hide or shelter there.”
“They have lost several dozen soldiers who were on their early morning patrol. Many were stabbed, and the snares took their limbs of a few. Now they are afraid to go on patrol back into the forest.”
“The war has begun. Do they suspect any Ceboideans?”
“We wore human shoes leaving human footprints. We used human tools to make the traps and left a few behind to be found by the Vespula.
Also, the Vespula have decided to live in the human airbase in the valley below. It is their main base of operation. Plus, they have a few scattered bases around your planet. They set up their headquarters and living space in one of the base’s local buildings.”
“And what did you do there?”
“We backed up the sewer system into the building. And left a pair of human gloves near the spot where the pipe was plugged up.”
“You must have read that from one of my father's books. Now, how have they responded? What’s inside their heads?”
“Inside their heads?” he asked questioningly.
“As I mentioned, this has to be a constant demoralizing campaign.”
“Yes, I see, the sewer backed up directly upon the Queen. She is enraged.”
“Perhaps she will be irrational.” Then I said, “We can use that.”
“They have decided to relocate back to their parked starships and they are scrambling to get communications back up. The bridge sabotage is severely hampering their abilities to deliver products for their war effort. They may abandon the use of human vehicles and human roads. From now on they plan on using their interstellar craft even for the most mundane deliveries. Things have definitely slowed down for them. And everywhere, the Queen has ordered more and more guards to be stationed at all posts.”
I responded, “That’s good. It may give us some more room to maneuver now that they will be clustered and on their guard. Well, it looks like we won't be able to repeat this attack any time in the near future, so I’m glad it worked.”
“The hardest part for the Queen is that she is set on revenge. At the moment however, she has no enemy to fight. Her rage can go nowhere,” Peter told me.
“Has the Queen considered leaving Earth altogether?”
“She has,” he said.
“This may be how the war ends. Given time, perhaps it will become too much, and they may leave Earth.”
“Not yet. The Queen wants something. Something here on Earth that only humans have.”
“Do you know what that is?”
“No, but I am trying to find out. And I am coordinating with Ceboidians around the planet. The same thing is happening at other Vespula bases around the world. The Vespula is losing their ability to sustain their war efforts. It has delayed the invasion of the Varanus home world.”
“Who are the Varanus?”
“They are the major enemy of the Vespula.”
“Do you think that the Vespula will suspect the Ceboidians of any sabotage?”
Peter told me, “No, not at all.”
“It is important that the resistance limits gathering of all their members. If too many Ceboidians are in one spot, it could be cause for retaliation. But if the word is spread, if members of the resistance are busy doing the jobs for the Vespula, we can continue with little notice. There is one more thing that you absolutely must do. You must make a report to the Vespula. Explain there are many armed humans. Emphasize ‘armed humans’ have been spotted by the Ceboidians and that you fear for your lives.”
“Young One, with you it's just one underhanded thing after another. What you have planned is actually working.”
Meet the authors and illustrator:
Bruce Markuson lives with his wife and two children in Milwaukee WI. He has a published novel as well as over a hundred and fifty other publications. Bruce is also working on a number of series. He enjoys writing and often finds himself with writer’s obsession. He says the best way to write is to have an ending then write to that ending.
Frank Pipp is a retired early elementary school teacher living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin (Go Packers!) Prior to teaching, he was a vice president in cash management for a regional bank. He has two adult children and a rescue border collie. He is active in mitochondrial disease fundraising, enjoys long dog walks and writing. In 2019 he had a poem about a summer day as a ten-year-old, a science fantasy story, and a science fiction short story published. During these times of Covid-19 shelter in place, he is learning to knit and made a pair of Dr. Who mittens.
Michelle Markuson did the illustrations. She is a Graphic Design student at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee. It captures a very feminine expression of the doom, horror and hopelessness that words can’t always express.