Just before bedtime, as was his habit on clear nights, Russ Collins sat down at his computer to see how the nightly observations were going. Russ lived alone in an unremarkable house, far from the lights of the city. The contents of the nondescript shed behind the house, however, were far from unremarkable: At dusk on cloudless nights the roof opened up, and Russ's telescope went to work. Russ was an amateur astronomer, and a very good one at that. His specialty was taking pictures of spy satellites, not for fun, but for money. He had one of the best telescopes in the world—that wasn't classified, anyway—for tracking satellites. It had fast, accurate drive motors, superb optics, and a sophisticated tracking system. But before a spy satellite can be photographed, it has to be found. Tonight Russ was looking for a recently-launched Chinese Beidou II.

Russ pulled up his telescope's data. The search sequences were going well—no need for midnight trips in the frigid air to mess with the equipment outside—so Russ logged on to chat to shoot the breeze with a small circle of like-minded colleagues around the world. His first surprise of the night was that he was alone on the channel, which was unprecedented at this time of night. That gave Russ time to check his email. There was an encrypted message from a trusted colleague. The message said simply, "Epsilon Geminorum B."

Gemini was a constellation, and Epsilon Geminorum was the fifth star in the constellation—it was Castor's right leg—but Russ wasn't sure why the "B" was there. Usually a "B" meant the dimmer of two stars in a binary. But Epsilon Geminorum wasn't a binary star, so the "B" didn't apply. Unless....

Russ pulled up a live view from his telescope and suspended the observation schedule. He slewed the scope around to look at Epsilon Geminorum, and received his second surprise of the night: There were two of them. The second was so close to Epsilon Geminorum that is was barely resolvable, but it was there. Russ did a few quick checks with his telescope, even pointing it to nearby Delta Geminorum to make sure his optics weren't fogged or unfocused. Delta Geminorum looked like it always did.

Russ reprogrammed his telescope to track Epsilon Geminorum B for the rest of the night, collecting all the data he could. Then he started to look for discussions of this phenomenon on the internet. Patrick's email was four hours old; whatever this new object was—geosynchronous satellite, nova, near-earth object, comet—it should have received some attention by now.

It hadn't.

There wasn't any mention it on any of the relevant sites. Nothing on astronomy forums. Nothing in email. Nothing on the newsgroups. Not only that, the usual websites were offline. No one he knew was on any of the chat channels, either.

He checked the view in his telescope again, and was flabbergasted to see that the second object was now resolvable into a disk. That meant that it was within the solar system, not in Gemini. And that it was very large, and moving very quickly—almost directly toward Earth.

He tried to email Patrick, but it bounced. He tried another colleague, and that email bounced, too.

Russ tried to log into one of the internet-enabled public telescopes, but the sites were down. On a hunch, he pulled up a live webcam page for Mauna Kea Observatory in Hawaii. All of the big scopes there were pointing in the same direction: the constellation Gemini.

A gnawing suspicion that had been growing in the back of Russ' mind suddenly turned into full-fledged paranoia. Whatever Epsilon Geminorum B was, lots of people knew about it, and none of them wanted the word to get out. It takes people with a lot of authority to shut down communication that effectively.

Russ suddenly realized that he might be shut down, too—he probably knew too much already. The government was a customer of his, and they knew where he lived. He turned his attention back to his computer. If he didn't have much time, he at least wanted some answers before a federal agent kicked down his door.

Forty-five minutes later, Russ had his answer: The world was going to end in a matter of hours. The only uncertainty was over exactly how much time was left.

As a human, Russ was horrified, but as a scientist, Russ was fascinated. Russ pulled up the live view from his observatory, and stared at it as he worked through his conclusions one more time. A dark object, three times bigger than the moon, traveling from outside the solar system, was headed directly toward Earth. It was already closer than any of the other planets, and it was moving faster than any known solar system object—faster, in fact, than could be accounted for by the gravity of the sun. At the speed it was moving, it was going cross the orbit of the moon in approximately 18 hours, and hit the earth twenty minutes later. Half of humanity would have front-row seats.

A sudden motion on the picture from the telescope captured Russ's attention, and he was presented with yet another surprise: As he watched, awestruck, the image of the rogue planet started to expand, its diameter growing by the minute, until it eclipsed the still-nearby Epsilon Geminorum completely. But the object was also becoming less distinct, and soon Epsilon Geminorum reappeared, shining hazily through the growing disk. The threat was turning to dust.

Russ did some more math, and determined that, depending on the size of the rubble and the speed with which the cloud expanded, the Earth might yet be saved. But the energy involved in disrupting a planet of that size, that quickly, was completely unexplainable.

Then Russ saw a slightly brighter, triangular shape emerge from the dust cloud and move rapidly away. It didn't look like a planetoid. Russ quickly programmed his tracker to follow it, and his telescope panned away from Epsilon Geminorum B—or what was left of it, and followed the tiny triangle.

But the night had yet one more surprise in store for Russ: Alone in the control center for his observatory, as the drive motors on his telescope struggled to keep following the bright object that had been at the center of the now shattered planetoid, Russ realized that it was changing its course.

Russ could only watch in awe as the dim triangle moved across the sky for two hours, making two more course corrections before disappearing behind the eastern edge of the moon.

Russ slewed the telescope to look at the western edge, but he never reacquired the object. Given its course and speed, Russ realized, there were only two possible reasons that he didn't see it emerge from behind the moon. The object might have crashed into the far side of the moon.

Or it landed there.

“Mamma, I’m hungry.”

Nicole did not pause. She carried on walking out of the town. On either side multi-storeyed buildings lay tilted at crazy angles, their floors collapsed on top of each other. The fresh sea breeze eddied in and around the rubble, picking up the cloying smell of death.

A few people with faces as grey as the smashed concrete around them were sifting through the rubble. Nicole didn’t care anymore. She had done her sifting. Fred her husband was dead. So were Laurette and little Isa. She and her four-year old were the only ones left.

“Mamma…?”

“Yes Tasha. I know. I’m hungry too. We’ll stop soon.”

Tasha’s bright flower-print dress was in tatters. Her legs were red-raw from when she had been pulled from the remains of their home. Her face was ashen, except where the tears had run down her cheeks exposing two thin lines of hazelnut skin. Her eyes were gritty and fearful. Nicole wondered if she had the same haunted look.

After walking for half an hour, they started to leave the rubble behind. They turned down the coastal path that made its way through a forest of mango and palm trees, many of which had been uprooted. Every so often they passed the remains of once posh villas.

“Mamma, my legs hurt.”

“Not far now.”

Nicole prayed silently that she was doing the best thing. Had she heard right? The radio was still in her rucksack. Perhaps she would listen to the next bulletin.

Suddenly the heat from the sun waned. She looked up and the cloud was there, purple, threatening and stretching from horizon to horizon, It was quickly covering the remaining sky.

Tasha tried to stop, but Nicole dragged her daughter along. Neither of them had the energy to argue.

As the trees began to thin, fine purple grains began to rain from the sky. Nicole held out her hand and collected a few. Would the rain carry on to bury them all alive?

Her plan was better.

The cove was deserted.

“Mamma, can we stop now?”

Nicole pointed to a fallen palm. “Over there,” she said.

Tasha slipped her grip and led the way.

“Can we have something to eat now?”

Nicole swung the rucksack off her back and sat on the trunk. “We haven’t got much, just a banana.”

Tasha ripped off the blackened skin and gobbled down the mushy fruit.

Nicole forced back her tears.

She decided to switch on the radio. Maybe there was a ray of hope.

She pulled the black portable from the rucksack. A familiar voice came from the speaker.

"…. Nuclear warheads fired yesterday at the centre of the mysterious black cloud that has been blocking out the stars have failed to go off. The purple cloud seen first…."

The voice fell silent as the batteries ran out.

Nicole let the radio fall onto the sand.

“Mamma, why are the stars going out?”

“Never you mind, Let’s go and paddle. Then we can wash ourselves in the sea.”

Tasha smiled. “I like the sea, I like swimming. Can I swim Mamma?”

“Yes dear.”

The waves were rolling in from knee height onto the fine white sand.

The water was pleasingly cool. Tasha jumped over the inshore wavelets and Nicole joined in, forgetting for a few moments her resolve. The water splashed around their legs exposing clean skin. Tasha shouted with glee. Nicole wanted the moment to go on forever.

“Mamma, will you take me out to swim?”

Nicole felt a dagger of ice run down her back. “Yes love. Come here and I’ll carry you.”

Tasha wrapped her arms about her mother’s neck. Nicole held her tight and waded into deeper water.

It reached her waist.

“This is far enough mamma.”

“Just a little bit further darling.”

The water rose to their necks.

“Mamma, I’m frightened.”

Nicole could delay no longer. She lifted her feet and immediately the two of them went under. Tasha’s grip tightened. Nicole rolled and thrashed, desperately trying to keep them both under water, while at the same time trying to make her daughter believe that she was trying to save them. The charade seemed to last forever. But eventually Nicole, her own lungs bursting for air, found herself lying suspended face down in the water on top of Tasha.

It went quiet. Soon it would be over.

And then Tasha kicked out and caught Nicole just below her ribcage. She almost gasped, but instinctively struck out for the surface. A wave caught them side-on and they rolled over. As they both gasped in air, they lost their grip on each other. By the time Nicole had re-orientated herself, her daughter was floating on her back some distance away. Quickly she swam after her. But whenever she got near, the waves conspired to keep her out of reach. Nicole turned it into a game. “ I’m coming to get you.”

“Mamma, mamma. I can’t sink, and you can’t catch me.”

Nicole’s foot hit the sand, while a few dozen yards away the waves washed Tasha ashore.

Nicole waded out of the water, and Tasha seemingly none-the-worse for her experience ran to meet her.

“Mamma, mamma. We shouldn’t have gone so far.”

Nicole clasped her daughter to her breast and sobbed uncontrollably. How had she ever thought… How could a four-year-old have survived out there? How had she herself swum so much further than she had ever swam in her life? Her plan was in tatters, but now she realised how relieved she was.

She felt the sun burning the top of her head. She looked up. The purple rain had stopped. The cloud had gone.

They would have to return home. They would have to struggle on no matter what.

She stood back and looked at Tasha. Her daughter’s eyes were bright, her skin was glowing and…. she looked in amazement. The nasty scrapes on her daughter’s legs had disappeared.

Nonplussed, Nicole realised it was time to go. She gathered up their few things, picked up Tasha and headed for the path. It was a little while before she noticed that the trees on either side were all standing straight.

She let Tasha down to the ground, but kept a tight hold of her hand.

The villa with its intact red roof came into sight as they rounded the next bend.

Nicole’s mind spun in confusion.

“Mamma. Can I walk by myself?”

Nicole let Tasha’s hand slip from hers.

When they walked past the villa, the people in the garden gave them a friendly wave.

Tasha ran ahead. Nicole hurried to catch up. But she had tarried so much looking back at the villa that her daughter was out of sight.

Then she heard a scream.

“Mamma, mamma.”

For an instant her blood ran cold.

And then Tasha carried on. “It’s daddy. It’s daddy.”

Seconds later Fred came into view hurrying down the path towards her with Tasha in his arms.

Nicole fell to her knees in thanksgiving, and purple dust swirled in the breeze.

Neil Heaton didn't know that he had less than five seconds to live, nor did he know that (in essence) he had killed himself. All Neil knew at that moment was that he absolutely did not know what he was seeing.

Neil was leaning back, staring at a wavering green dot on his shirt, and uttering the most profound of statements ("What the fu-"), when a metal orb, about the size of a handball, slammed into his body. It was moving fast enough that Neil never saw the object that killed him. One instant, he was staring at a green light; the next, he could see straight through a hole that had appeared in his body (and he found himself looking at a small crater caused by the orb when it embedded itself into the ground behind him); and the next instant, he was dead.

What Neil would never know is exactly what happened to his body between that first and second instant. That a piece of metal had contacted his sternum, and simply pulverized the bone on its way through his body. The main organ it hit was his heart, and on impact the muscle was demolished. The sphere continued its fatal trek by barreling into Neil's spinal cord and ripping a section of the nerve (along with a few vertebrae) through the hole that was created as the orb exited his body.

As Neil collapsed, the box that he had bet his life on fell from his hand. The same box that Neil (if he was still alive) would have told you held the answer to all of his problems in life. Now, it was just a stolen piece of equipment lying next to a dead guy.

Neil was not the only dead guy in the area. And he was well aware of that fact before he died. Less than five miles from where he would take his last breath three others had taken theirs. Ironically, those three men had also died by metal projectiles ripping through their bodies. Neil knew of these bodies (of course he did) because he was the one that shot them in his quest for the box.

The same box that Neil had only heard about a week before his death. The box that, just hours after his death, would already have rumors circulating around it. Some would say that the box itself was possessed, that it had to be to be responsible for the deaths of four people only hours after it was completely assembled. Others would say that the three agents who died that day were haunting Neil and that they had activated the box. Of course, there were just as many employees of Homeland Security that thought the events leading up to the traitor's death were all a coincidence. And, being a rational organization, it was the last group's opinion that was reflected in the government's official write up.

A write up which would strip out all emotional attachment and feeling, and reveal as little as possible about the actual project details as it could while still reporting what it must. Then it would be passed around a table and read only by people who already knew about the project before it was put under lock and key for the "protection of the nation." And as these people received the paper they would only give it the most perfunctory of glances, after all, they already knew the whole story, including the details the report would omit.

The overview, although written with much more jargon and legalese, would state that a week before the completion of project TSB-07 (nicknamed SpaceBall by the engineers to try to add some levity to such a fatal weapon) Neil Heaton had stolen a key card that he used to determine the delivery route of the controller of the 2.5 billion dollar undertaking. It would briefly mention details of Neil's personal life, how his wife had left him, how he'd had to take out a second mortgage on his house due to gambling debts, and how the office ordered psychiatrist had ordered a prescription of anti-depressants that Neil had never filled. The report would stress that Neil knew no details of the project itself (which was evidenced by his actions). It would fail to mention that the overseers would be at risk of losing their jobs if word of the project had been leaked, and that in reality they had no way of knowing how much of the project's details Neil had known.

The report continues to give a "best fit scenario" for what happened that day. That Neil had used a van to block the road in a desolate spot on the route the agents were taking. And, using a fully automatic assault rifle with armor piercing rounds, he attacked the vehicle transporting the TSB-07 Control Box; killing the agents within seconds. The report would state that how Neil obtained the weapon and ammunition was still "under investigation." When the killing was over Neil removed the Control Box from the car and in his haste he had armed and activated Satellite SB37-Q.

Satellite SB37-Q was just one of the many weapon satellites in orbit over Earth for the project. When it received the signal from the controller it did exactly what it was built to do. It fired a spherical, metal object at the planet. In this object was a mini-fortune of fine tuned machinery. And what this machinery was responsible for was taking the information given to it and controlling the course the orb would take. The machinery was able to gather the information due to a green laser light that was aimed in front of the sphere, and originated from within. A light that (due to the high velocity, and slight course changes of the projectile) would appear to waver to anyone watching it from a stationary position.

The death of Neil Harris was the first kill of the new wave of America's Space to Earth weapons, and to the Pentagon, confirmed the success of the project.

Harry Grimes looked over the patrons as he wiped the bar for the tenth time that hour. It was a rite with him, wipe from left to right, pick up the glasses, move the tips over to his counter with the bar rag, and listening to the banter. It wasn't a particularly busy night, the weather was keeping some of the regulars at home, the usual crowd was doing the usual things: playing pool or darts, talking sports, business, the usual human things.

Then a stranger wandered through the door. He was average height and weight, no outstanding features, but there was something different about him. The new guy walked up to the bar somewhat hesitantly, and spoke to Harry in low voice.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but I am from out of town, and I don't have any local currency...”, the man started.

“And I am Bozo the Clown, and no, you can't have a drink on the house. I have heard all these stories before buddy. Car broken down, tossed out of house by wife without their wallet, friend will be by later to pay for the drinks, none of those work here. Now do you have something original, or do I toss you out by your ears?”

“No, I didn't mean I didn't have any money, I just don't have any local currency.”

“This ain't a bank Mac, just how foreign is the currency?”

The man said nothing, but tossed a silver dollar sized coin on the bar. It had a bear-like creature on it, and unreadable lettering. It glowed in a warm yellow color reflecting the bar's lights.

Harry picked it up and examined it more closely. “It looks like gold”, he said.

“It is,” the man replied.

“Can't make out any of the lettering, where is it from?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Vlelgateeze. It is a Earth-like planet circling a star about 150 million light years from here.”

“Interesting. I don't suppose you could prove that?”

“No. We are forbidden to change your technology.”

“Sort of a prime directive thing eh? Yeah, I have watched my share of Sci-Fi. So why are you telling me this?”

“Can't hurt. You don't believe me, I am not improving your technology, and you will be left with nothing more than an interesting story to tell. The coin is indistinguishable from those of Earth manufacture save for the lettering which doesn't prove anything. Standard issue in our kits as harmless trading material”

“So why are you here?”

“I am an observer. I was sent to gather information about your planet and its people. My ride home arrives tonight, and I wanted to experience this place one more time before I leave.”

“So how long have you been here?”

“Two years. Standard tour of duty.”

“And you haven't managed to amass any local currency in two years time?”

The man looked crestfallen. “I just blew it, didn't I?”

“Nah, it was a good yarn. I told you, I have heard them all. Anyway that one is good for a beer.”

Harry drew a beer, and handed it to the man. “Here is your Panda back. Beer gets kind of costly at an ounce of gold a throw. You weren't really going to leave that were you?”

The man shrugged. “If I could have pulled off the story yeah, it would have been worth it.”

“Really, why?”

“Haven't you wondered whether there really is anybody else out there? What it would be like to travel the stars? To be walking among totally alien creatures?”

“Can't say that I have. But that isn't the same as faking it, is it?”

“I suppose not. I just wanted to try it for a night though.”

“Keep working on it. If you think you are getting good at it, try here again. I'd like to see your progress.”

Kenneth Jones, Earthling, left the bar, got into his car and traveled home. Tomorrow morning and another mundane day of work would start soon enough.

Harry closed the door behind the last regular, cleaned his bar one last time, pocketing all the tips, and went to his room. He took his head off, and placed it on the desk.

“Well that was an interesting night,” the head of the observer team said.

“Yes it was,” the body replied. It sat down and changed into pajamas.

“So what are we going to do with him? Sting him along?”

“He looks like a good candidate for first contact. Anybody who would spend a thousand just to pretend to be an alien for a night should make a pretty viable subject for it. Particularly if he takes the time to improve his technique and comes to visit us again.”

“That and he doesn't have the usual human traits,” the head reflected. “He doesn't look at aliens as equals, the way the scientists do. As if a race that can't even get along with each other is equal to one that has conquered the stars. And he doesn't make aliens match his imagination. He appears to be going the opposite route.”

“Yes, he wants to feel what it would be like being an alien here, rather than what it would feel like meeting one.”

“OK, I will go along with it. We did put a tracer on him right?”

“Yes, it was in the beer he drank.”

“Then we have some work to do. I will get the OK from Sector Control before I turn in for the night.”

For some reason, Mark felt great. Fantastic even. Probably it was the weather. The air was cool and crisp which meant the visibility was perfect for a nighttime drive. Nights this clear were somewhat of a rarity back in Chichago. You could see every star with perfect clarity, and they looked absolutely spectacular. You forgot how enormous the sky was when you lived in the city. There was too much commotion there. Too much clutter. It was great to get away like this. He wished he could do it more often. Mark hadn’t felt so at peace in months. Ironic, then, that his destination was a funeral. Old Uncle Shaw had recently passed away, and Aunt Shaw would be needing consolidation. Despite this Mark still found himself looking forward to the two day drive ahead. Just driving would be nice. Him alone with his thoughts and the Truck. The rental Pickup was fairly old but it did the trick. Definitely if was better than riding in a cab. Anything was better than some of the cabs he’d been in!

Mark continued to drive in this way, existing inside his own head, consumed by his own thoughts. In fact he just nearly didn’t see the man standing on the side of the road. He was going fast enough that he might simply have sped right by him. But Mark did see the man, and in light of his good spirits resolved to pull over. What was the harm? Mark was a trusting man, and another car might not be along for a while yet. Mark rolled his window down as the hitchhiker walked over to the car.

“Hey there. Need a lift?”

“Yeah. Thank you. My transport broke down a ways ago. I need a ride until I find some fuel.” Said the hitchhiker in a raspy voice.

“Yeah sure, just hop on in.”

As soon as the man opened the door and shifted into his seat Mark regretted his decision. He was odd. Everything about him was odd. He had oily blonde hair and skin that appeared to be stretched strangely over his face. He wore a heavy brown coat that seemed just a little bit too small and wool gloves that covered his hands entirely. There was also an unmistakable and extremely prevalent odor of fish. The stench was insufferable. Mark nearly gagged. What the odor meant Mark had no idea. There was no point in mentioning it now, though. The man was already in the car. It was too late to refuse him. The next town was only about fifteen minutes off. Fifteen minutes with this stranger wouldn’t be terrible. It might not even be bad at all. There were plenty of weird looking people in the world. That didn’t mean they had weird personalities. He should give the guy a chance before making any judgments.

“The names Mark.”

“Oh, right. My name is Xavier.”

“Cool name. So uh, what do you do for a living?” inquired Mark.

“Well I guess you could say I’m a… a business man. It’s all sorts of complicated. I deal in the transport of commodities to distant locations. There's no need to explain it any more than that. How about you? What is it that you do?”

At this point mark realized another peculiar feature of the mans face. His eyes were quite bloodshot. It made him look slightly crazed.

“Just your average office job. I hate it but you’ve got to pay the bills somehow, right? I’m actually hoping to move into engineering. I’ll be going back to school for a degree.”

After this there was a long silence. They drove along amiably, Mark again concerned with his own thoughts, the hitchhiker looking out the window and occasionally glancing up towards the stars. Mark would have been satisfied to proceed the rest of the journey in this manner, but soon Xavier took it upon himself to break the silence.

“What brings you out here on a night such as this?”

“Uh, I’m actually driving to my aunt's place for my uncle’s funeral. It sucks but whatever. I didn’t even really know him that much. It’s just that my aunt is a little unstable and she doesn’t really have any other family to support her.”

“That sounds like a very fine thing for you to do.”

At this put Xavier put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. When he removed it Mark found that several small shining things had been left. He plucked one up with his left hand and brought it closer to his face.

“Are these… Scales?”

A grim expression fell over Xavier’s face. Mark felt himself shudder.

“There's something you might want to know. I’m not actually a business man.”

The atmosphere had abruptly turned very tense. Mark was for some reason entirely terrified now.

“What?” Asked Mark tentatively.

“I’m not a business man. I lied to you before.”

“Then… Then what on earth are you?”

“I drive a fish delivery truck. It’s just kind of embarrassing.”

“What? Is that it?”

“Well, yeah. What were you expecting?”

A second later, by a complete one-in-a-million freak accident, a sofa sized meteor from outer space crashed into the car. Both men were tragically killed.