Monsignor Jones pondered the large map of the world in front of him with frustration. Countries around the world had formed their own versions of the Australian rapid response force as a means of addressing the issue of random alien attacks. They were still random enough that any news of them was treated as conspiracy theories, but those in the know were concerned. Understandably those in power wanted “something done”, especially as if these attacks continued, their security may be threatened. Also, their prestige could go down with other states if they didn’t join the prevailing attempts. And of course, their citizens are being killed.

  The groups all standardised on “Rapid Response Group” in their name and through a quirk of the personalities of those who were actually concerned with bringing the fight to the new alien enemy, they added “Alien” to the front. So despite the tongue in cheek naming by the Australians, ARRG became the official name. As it was a secret organisation, that also helped the organisation get away with it.

  Most of these groups comprised very experienced and determined men and some women who were on constant rotation and the strain of reacting to aliens striking at random made them very stressed. Each group had chaplains to assist them maintain a good balance of mental and physical preparadeness.

  Monsignor Jones worked with other religious groups that provided the chaplains. The core military leaders of ARRG had purely military aims - find and destroy the threat and gather whatever intelligence they could in the process. However Monsignor Jones considered the aliens as mission territory. They were obviously intelligent and the information they had gathered from survivors and other random pieces of data, it could be seen they had reason. So, the Church made the reasonable assumption the aliens had souls and efforts must be made to spread the good news.

  Since the first six attacks in isolated areas, there had been a lull and then many more attacks began. The groups were smaller and did not have the expected security detail of the first groups. By now, all the evidence was pointing to the conclusion these “attacks” were hunting parties. Hunting on Earth against whatever they encountered. All of the world’s preparations and planning for first encounters with aliens assumed there would be dialogue, or a display of force, or something with which we could discuss. But it looked like the aliens didn’t consider the people of Earth as worth encountering as intelligent beings. It was pretty rude.

  Once the new hits began, reports trickled in. Combining news from his chaplains and data shared with other ARRG members, Monsignor Jone’s wall mounted digital map showed a growing number of little dots. One of his clever assistants started to colour the dots to provide some context. Green meant the “hunt” came and went with no known contact with humans. Yellow meant contact, but no human deaths. Red meant contact and human deaths.

  “There were too many of those,” thought Monsignor Jones sadly.

  Recently his assistant applied a new sign. Double dots.

  “Phillips,” he asked his assistant, “Why is that one in New Guinea a double dot?”

  Phillips grinned and said, “It was Red as the hunters stopped neared a native village that was in the middle of the mountains near Kokoda. They happily shot up some villagers, but the locals killed one of the hunters. The hunters panicked when the locals disappeared into the jungle and before they could pursue, they beamed up.”

  “By beamed up you mean they disappeared in a blue light show?” asked Monsignor.

  “Yes. Everyone is trying to see if there is a space ship up there but no joy so far,” answered Phillips, “Anyway. The Red dot was because the hunters encountered humans, and the White 1 meant we killed one of them.”

  ‘Interesting,” said Monsignor Jones, rubbing his chin, “What happens if we - by that I mean humanity - gets to wipe out the hunting party?”

  Phillips gave a wide grin, “Then we make the dot black and put the number of aliens killed next to it. Typically that isbetween two and six aliens.”

  Monsignor Jones looked at the board and counted. ‘We seem to be getting more Red dots.”

  Phillips held up his hand to pause the conversation as his computer updated wth a message.

  In surprise, Phillips updated the board. In the Central African Republic a Red dot appeared, then a White “2” and then a new Blue dot.

  Monsignor Jones noticed and looked back at Phillips.

  “Something new, Monsignor,” said Phillips with a shrug, “A hunt came down near another remote village in Africa. A couple of the hunters were killed by the locals who only had some arrows and spears after the local warlord had disarmed them a few week’s earlier. They did some scavenging of the bodies and then some more aliens arrived. From reports and videos the locals took on their cheap phones, they look like the security team that accompanied the first hunts.”

  “Well, well, well,” muttered Monsignor, sitting down in his chair, spinning slowly.

  “There’s more,” continued Phillips, “They fired what look like warning shots at the mostly destroyed village to keep the locals back. Then one of the locals had approached from the nearby woods and charged one of the aliens with a spear. Bloody brave, if you ask me.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Monsignor, “I presume that brave lad was killed?”

  “No. And that’s the interesting bit. The local was hit by a laser bolt to his shoulder and fell down. The alien - we think he was the leader of the security team in those earlier hunts - took away the spear and told the local to lie down. He then walked to the village and told them to stay back, or else. Wisely, they did as they were told and a short while later the aliens and the dead hunters beamed back up. Amazing.”

  “Hmmm. What happened to the gear?”

  Phillips went back to his messages, “Apparently one of the locals stole something from the hunters, but it exploded a short while after the aliens were beamed up, killing him, his ox and destroyed his cart. The local ARRG team arrived from Nigeria some time later and bought the gear from the locals.”

  “Bought them?” asked Monsignor Jones.

  “Yep. We figured that offering a bounty for alien weapons and gear would be easier than tracking down these things on the black market. Also, the locals were much more willing to part with the gear.”

  “Good. So. Now we have a new player in this great game. Blue dots indeed,” Monsignor said, “As usual, share this with the ARRG network.”

  Phillips nodded and added their part to the conversation. So far, no ARRG unit had made it to a hunt in time, although a couple had arrived just as the hunters had escaped. But soon! Soon.

  ****

  Father Pacioli awoke to a blare of the alarm. This alarm meant a hunt had appeared nearby and he had five minutes to get dressed and into the assembly area. The Queensland ARRG team was based at Canungra near the commando training base. The team on duty would already be out and the unit on standby, which included Father Pacioli, would go out in support. The third team would remain on base in case they were needed later.

  Quickly donning his black gear, grabbing his kit and holding his special black helmet under his arm he raced to the assembly and arrived with thirty five seconds to spare. Breathing hard, he was very happy he had been practicing with the troops.

  Not breathing hard at all, Lieutenant Smythe grinned at Father Pacioli, “You’re almost late, Padre.”

  “Almost,” Father Pacioli said between deep breathes, “Is not late.”

  Major Tierney raised his voice and quiet descended on the gathered rapid response squad.

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  “An alien hunting party has arrived in the remote village near Blackbutt about 200km away. That is about 40 minutes flight time. Let’s board now!”

  The Major was not known to waste words and he was sure to expand on his introduction once they were on the way in the fast CH-47 Chinook helicopter. It could travel up to 315 kilometres per hour and Father was sure they would be racing to get there in time. Father had been keeping up with the regular updates from the ARRG network and this time they may make contact!

  Once everyone was strapped in and the Chinook was on it’s way, Major Tierney tapped his headset and glanced meaningfully at his team. Everyone understood and had their intercom on and was listening.

  “Red team is almost there. We have a garbled mention of an alien attack on a local school. It’s only a small school but we are here to ruin the day for those aliens. Once we get updates you will be informed. Relax while you can. This is it!”

  Everyone nodded, both excited and nervous. They had all seen the power the aliens wielded. Powerful lasers, grenades, rifles and more, all used to attack anything that took their fancy. It was indiscriminate and the anger of the troops of ARRG grew with news of each attack. This time they could have some pay back.

  ****

  “Red Leader!” shouted the trooper that was in the lead of the team approaching the small school building,” We have visual of … a thing … with a gun standing around facing the parking area.”

  “A Team, has it seen you?” Red Leader asked

  “No Sir. Just looking around like it’s on a bloody holiday.”

  “Approach carefully. If we can capture it we may get some priceless intelligence,” Red Leader instructed.

  “Approach carefully,” mocked James to himself, “as I approach a bloody alien with a bloody big gun. I’m not about to approach un-carefully, am I?”

  James was within about a couple of metres when the alien noticed him. One of its eye stalks looked his way and James could tell it was surprised by the way the stalks stood up in the air. James would have laughed if the thing’s gun didn’t start to raise and move towards him. He heard a scream from a woman from inside the one room school house and the alien moved from the opening to find the source of the scream.

  ‘Bloody hell!” said James, as he raced in to stop the alien shooting what must be the teacher. “Un-carefully I go!” he shouted as he raced around the corner.

  The alien had spotted the teacher and raised his gun to fire. James couldn’t fire his Austeyr rifle as shots may hit the woman, so he inwardly shrugged and leapt for the alien, knocking it down to the ground. James bounced on top of the blobby alien, protected by some sort of armour. James and the alien wrestled with the alien’s weapon. The weapon fired, creating a large hole in the roof by the energy blast.

  James clung on even tighter. His team mates rushed in behind but couldn’t fire without risking James.

  James pulled the rifle out of the alien’s grasp and threw it away. The alien then pulled out another device and yelled into it. James grabbed that too and suddenly he and the alien were surrounded by the light of a large energy bolt, sending him and the alien in different directions.

  Another alien had come around the other corner and showed no inhibitions about injuring his fellow alien, happily firing at the fighting pair. The rest of the ARRG team went into action firing at the alien with a fusillade of bullets, hitting it several times. The new alien quickly ran back around the corner out of sight, while the ARRG troopers gave chase. While James lay against the wall, he placed the device he had picked up from the alien and placed it in his hip pocket.

  The alien he had been fighting groaned and James tried to reach for his pistol at his side. While James crouched over, the alien fired its laser and James fell silent. An ARRG trooper fired at the alien who fell to the ground. Approaching carefully, the trooper stepped back as the alien sprouted two new arms, stood up and then fell down with an audible “G”.

  Sounds of explosions in the distance abruptly stopped. The sound of another helicopter surrounded the school as Blue team arrived.

  A short while later, a black clad Father Pacioli examined James.

  “He’s dead, Sir,” he said to Major Tierney, “The energy bolts have melted everything.”

  Major Tierney frowned, “The alien he fought is dead and did not go back when the others beamed. We will have to find out why.”

  He looked down at Trooper James and looked across at the weeping woman being cared for by two of his troopers, “James saved the woman, you know. It was a pupil free day and she was here preparing lessons before school started tomorrow. She came out of the back room when she saw this alien,” the Major kicked it for emphasis, “and she screamed. The alien then reacted to the scream. I don’t know why it turned its back on Trooper James and faced the woman. Sonics?“

  Father Pacioli was only partly listening as he placed his hand on Trooper James’ head and said some prayers.

  ****

  The next day started with a torrential downpour, which wasn’t too unusual for a Queensland summer.

  Father was in his full funeral regalia. The funeral was quick to avoid excess publicity. Also the laser hit had melted the metal body armour. Father Pacioli defended the prompt funeral to help the morale of James’ fellow troopers.

  The Requiem Mass had been said and everyone was gathered at the graveside to pay their final respects. The teacher was also present, with her husband standing next to her, holding her tight in mutual comfort. The ground was very muddy, but the grave had been dug the day before and the digging machine was standing by.

  Father nodded to Bill, the digger operator, who lowered the coffin into the grave.

  After the final prayers, Father Pacioli approached the grave edge for some final words and blessing of the coffin containing Trooper James.

  “Almighty God. We consign Trooper James to your eternal care. We pray for the repose of his soul. Trooper James died doing his duty, defending the innocent from …”

  The ground gave way as the muddy sides collapsed. Father Pacioli fell onto the top of the coffin with the aspergillum, the metal rod for sprinkling holy water, underneath him. The coffin lid, already weakened by the rocks contained in the rocky soil that had fallen, cracked and Father Pacioli found himself on top of the dead Trooper James.

  Covered in mud, Father Pacioli struggled to get upright. In doing so his hand fell between the burned arm and side of Trooper James. He stopped struggling. Perplexed, he felt further.

  “What are you doing, Father?” asked Major Tierney with obvious humour in his voice.

  “Don’t come too close, Sir,” Father shouted back up, “The ground’s a bit soft.”

  “I noticed,” said the Major, wisely keeping back from the edge.

  Father Pacioli found what he had touched and brought out an alien device. Trying to wipe some mud off it to get a closer look, he realised he had no mud free spots he could use. There was some rain water flowing into the grave so he quickly rinsed it off under the water.

  “Well, Trooper James,” said Father to the dead trooper, “looks like you have done even more for your country.”

  Father stood up and looked up at the muddy walls surrounding him. “Bill,” he shouted, “Can you get me up?”

  Bill, laughing at the voice coming up from the depths of the grave, answered, “Sure I can Father. But I’ll get paid double. I normally put things in, not take them out.”

  Father stepped into the digger bucket and was raised above the grave. In his hand was the alien device he had retrieved from Trooper James’ body.

  “Bloody show off,” muttered Major Tierney as he hurried to see what he had recovered, while Bill was left to organise a replacement casket lid and fill the grave. He smiled, “Wait till I get home and tell the family!”

  ****

  Monsignor Jones visited Canungra base and met with Father Pacioli a short time later. No one was willing to risk communications across the internet when they had information this important. They used secure connections for all their work, but there are some things you just can trust to even “secure” connections.

  Monsignor smiled at Father Pacioli, “Well done Father. In future we will be fully examining all humans that are in close contact with the aliens. Never know what they can pick up.

  What fell into your hand is called a Communicator. A Universe 7 by name. There appear to be two types. An older really tough version and this newer model. Others have captured communicators before, but the newer one has a built in safety device.”

  Father Pacioli questioned the Monsignor with a glance.

  Monsignor Jones moved his hands apart mimicking an explosion with his mouth, “If the Universe 7 communicator is left behind after the rest of the aliens beam up, it will explode.”

  Father Pacioli went a little pale.

  “Apparently when your Trooper James was in his tussle with the alien, he grabbed the communicator and fell back when they were shot by the alien’s friend. When he was struck by the alien’s final blast, the energy hit the communicator’s edge and amazingly fried the security switch. The investigators here, as well as specialists from other countries, have all gathered in Brisbane. No one wanted to risk anything happening to this first device we had captured. Other units have captured the older style communicators but have had only basic information from them. These updated models have a larger memory chip inside and although the technology is alien, we somehow managed to turn it on.”

  Father Pacioli raised a hand and asked, “How do you know it is a communicator?”

  “Ah, you noticed?” said the Monsignor slyly, “It told us. Once we powered it on, one of the techs holding it this way and that said aloud, ‘It’s on. How do we make it do anything?’ The communicator then piped up and said, ‘Just ask me. I am a Universe 7. The ultimate in Communicators in the Federation of Planets.’ Once the techs stopped staring, the questions began.”

  “Ha! Excellent news indeed,” said Father Pacioli happily, “But why am I privileged to hear about all this. I would have thought this was all very secret.”

  “Indeed,” replied the Monsignor, holding up his fingers and counting them off one at time, “One, you were the one to find the thing so we felt you deserved it, Two, we want to share the information with ARRG so we can better do our jobs, and Three, and what I consider very important, we think these aliens are definitely mission territory.”

  “Why?” asked Father Pacioli.

  “They have an official phrase they use whenever they make first contact with a new species. ‘Greetings, we mean you no harm.’”

  Father’s mouth fell open. “How do they match that with indiscriminate attacks on anything that takes their fancy?”

  “Well, that is the interesting thing,” said Monsignor Jones, “Pass me over that tea and let’s have a chat.”

  “I think I’ll have a beer,” said Father, reaching into his small refrigerator, looking at the Monsignor who nodded his agreement.