Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Two women opened the crew door. Very, very slowly. Ensign Megan Bremer peered in. The hangar glowed a subtle, pale blue.
“Let’s go.”
Her fellow ensign held back. “I’m chicken,” said Jennifer Tate.
“I know.” She pulled her inside. They walked past rows of G-Pods, or anti-gravity vehicles. “Which one should we take?”
Jennifer surveyed the dozens of gleaming vehicles. “How about the captain’s?” Having gone this far, she was getting into it.
They stopped before a long, black sedan. It sported fins and square headlights. “I don’t think so,” said Megan. They kept walking. “Here we go.”
It was a red Argo Zinger. The latest model. Turbo-charged, two-seats, four-on-the-floor.
“But this is Commander Kern’s pod,” said Jennifer.
“Yes it is.” Bremer opened the butterfly door.
“And I don’t know how to drive a manual.”
“I do.”
“But you don’t have a Moon license.”
“No, I don’t.”
Megan dropped into the driver’s seat. “Get in.” They buckled up. After rolling into the airlock, they watched as ramp doors closed behind. Then the huge bay doors opened ahead. Stars displayed a dazzling panorama.
“Hold on, sister.” Megan dropped her into first and popping the clutch, floored it.
They shot into space. Shifting rapidly, Megan brought the pod to cruising speed and began a circuit of planet Earth. “This thing really moves,” she said. “Kern doesn’t know much about anything, but he knows his G-Pods.”
Jennifer Tate frowned. “Actually, Mr. Kern knows a lot about everything.”
“Not women,” said Megan.
Tate looked at her sideways.
They had almost completed one revolution. North America lay below. “There’s my home town,” said Megan. “Maple Grove. What say we check things out?”
“I thought we were going around a couple times, then return.” Jennifer looked out her window. “We’re going to get in trouble.”
“What kind of Malthusian are you? Remember our motto. One word. Courage!”
They dropped from the sky. The town appeared under the clouds. Trees had just begun to turn. “Maple Grove is nice,” said Jennifer.
“Try living there.”
Below lay neat yards, wide streets and sun-dappled parks. Next to a modern, sandstone block high school a band practiced marching. They could hear the drums, and the major’s whistle, one long, then four short blasts.
Megan banked the pod. Below was Juneau Lane. “Let’s put her down.”
“Megan!”
“Just for a minute.” She parked at a tidy split-level. “Come on. I want to see a friend.”
“This is entirely against the rules…”
“Courage!”
The women stepped from wing doors and walked up the sidewalk. White chrysanthemums nodded. A leaf drifted down. They might have been door-to-door canvassers. Except for their matching silver jumpsuits. And the spaceship parked out front, of course.
At the bell a dog barked . “That’s Frisky,” said Megan. They waited. The door opened. Mrs. Hathaway stood blinking, mouth open.
“Hi Mrs. Hathaway. Is Kelly home?”
The woman fainted.
“I guess not,” she said to Jennifer.
And why would she? Megan speculated out loud as they jetted back to Spaceship One. Kelly Hathaway was at least twenty-five. With an adult life. An adult career. In some big company, no doubt, where she could practice assembling cliques, mining gossip, and talking behind co-worker’s backs.
Yes, indeed. She would have a boyfriend. Or might even be married. No doubt to an ex-jock. A football player from Maple Grove, maybe? How delightful.
Megan pressed two rows of small, even teeth together. How delightful indeed.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com