From the Journal of Steven Keys- September 16, 2018
They asked me to come to the warehouse where they were working on the pod today, and I agreed, not knowing what they could want. Still, what was I going to do? Lie around on the beach and work on my tan? I’m bored, I realized this morning.
I never thought I would be bored in any serious way ever again.
A few of the scientists were working on the outer hull, and another one was inside. I wandered into the pod, and Yoshi (finally I know and remember someone’s name here!) smiled at me like that cat that ate the canary. He introduced himself and explained that it was his task to dissect and catalog the circuitry and design of the passenger section of the craft. I thought that was interesting- the scientists are being used and assigned in a very military-style precision. Anyway, my curiosity was running pretty high, so I asked him why I had been called down to the warehouse. Again, he smiled like he could barely contain himself.
He walked over to a part of the wall I hadn’t seem much of, as I had been sitting with my back to it. He asked me if I had, at any time during the flight, noticed anything special or out of the ordinary about it. I assured him that I had not, and he shook his head, still smiling. Then he said something that floored me.
“Militaristic society, these Omegans. I can’t imagine they have ever faced much in the way of resistance in their travels. But if and when they do, and they have to use these things, I can’t imagine they’d leave themselves defenseless upon landing on an alien planet.” He paused. “How many Omegans do you figure fit in one of these things?”
It was so obvious that, as he tapped away at the wall, I couldn’t believe it. The panel slid open, revealing a half dozen of the Omegan guns we had seen and used on the ship.
“Six, I guess,” I said, my face cracking into the same smile he had been wearing.
The other two guys came around to the entrance and congratulated me. Through sheer dumb luck and Ed’s ridiculous bravery, we had caught our first real break. One of them produced a small cooler and from it came four bottles of beer, a real commodity in our fucked new world. They asked me to offer a toast, and I did, thanking Ed for my life and for the gift his life had given us. After that, Yoshi and the others went to tell the military what had been found. It was only then that I realized that they had been waiting until they told me before they told the higher-ups. They wanted to give me a chance to realize what I had truly done and to honor my friend’s loss in doing so.
I love these guys.
As they went off to do their duty, I wandered away and to the beach. I needed to take it all in, I think. The scope of what was happening, both to myself and to the world at large, is still a struggle. I think I would like it to stay that way for a while, though. I have always been a very small cog in a very big world, and keeping it that way is just fine. I’m just a man. The big stuff can stay in the hands of those whose destinies were meant for bigger things.
In the meantime, I think I will volunteer to teach English to the Japanese locals that need the help, and start working on my Japanese in return. There are genuine warriors here. Time to let them do their thing, and I’ll do mine. Go save the world guys! I’ll be over here cheering you on.
From the Journal of Steven Keys- October 5, 2018
Another wave of Japanese scientists and defense force guys arrived this morning. At this rate, the island will be at full capacity before the end of the month. I was worried at first, wondering if this would draw too much attention to us and bring the Omegans down on our heads, but Colonel Runton told me we had nothing to worry about. For whatever reason, the Omegans were paying very little attention to water traffic. Best guess is that the slowness of ocean travel means that whatever is happening on the water is of very little threat at this point.
Sounds like a pretty decent guess, thinking about it. Hope we can take advantage of it.
The skies, though, are pretty much empty. Our alien visitors have essentially sent us back to the 18th century as far as travel goes. Anything that gets into the air is either an Omegan ship or a target for one.
I’ll take a kayak, I think. That sounds safe enough.
My classes are pretty full these days, and one of the Japanese scientists that came in a week or so ago has started teaching Japanese to the Americans who are here. It is amazing how smoothly it has been working. Faced with an outside aggressor, we’ve all pulled together in ways that were probably never possible before. I’ve seen more that one American accompany a Japanese to the local Shinto shrine and light an incense, an in turn, I’ve seen a Japanese man kneel next to an American Catholic and pray with him.
Maybe the real miracle is that, in the face of an event that you’d have to believe is proof of God’s abandonment, spirituality still survives. I hope it lasts, but the pessimist in me struggles with that one.
Yoshi told me that one of the military guys has been talking about teaching a class in guerilla warfare tactics. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s probably a good idea. I want to believe that my part as a fighter is done, but that’s a joke. We’re all part of the resistance here; we’re just not taking up arms at the moment. Truth is, though, sooner or later, we’re all going to be in the fight. The Omegans are obviously here for a reason. That reason likely requires the death of most of our species. In order to survive, everybody is going to need to be ready to fight.
From the Journal of Steven Keys- October 11, 2018
It’s just like being back at the university… not. Today I was asked to guest lecture in the guerilla warfare tactics class. Talk about weird! I’ve always enjoyed coming in to other professors’ classes and engaging them in a dialogue, but talking about my first time using a rocket-propelled grenade? How easy it was to line up the sight and pull the trigger? Not exactly a topic I ever expected to be an expert on.
The Marine teaching the class- McFall is his name, I think- introduced me in a way that scared the hell out of me. I had told Colonel Runton about being part of the mission to the water treatment plant a while back, which is, I suppose, how McFall new he wanted me to speak. He opened up by speaking about that mission and then discussed blowing up the ship in orbit. At that point, he pointed out that meant I had been able to kill almost 1200 enemy soldiers, a higher kill rate than anyone else on Earth at that point.
I don’t want to take that lightly, that number. I had been born and raised in a pretty progressive family. I was taught to respect things like tact, diplomacy, and respect for all. The idea of killing… well, that isn’t what the Keys family did. The family credo was built upon four ideals: be the very best; uphold our family honor; live a life of courage; do the right thing.
As I picked up the RPG and showed it to the group of scientists and younger soldiers in the classroom that day, I wondered what my family would make of what I was doing.
Then I wondered if I still cared.
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