Day 3, 9:43 am

Sunday, 31 March 2233

Mossel Bay, South Africa

In Mossel Bay, the UN security head got up to make his morning coffee, blissfully unaware of the impending upheaval making its way to him, with Cornelius swiftly approaching on the coastal N2 highway.

Vaguely aware that a storm of global proportions was brewing in Antarctica, Cornelius studied his GPS to confirm that he only had eight kilometres before reaching Mossel Bay. The fate of the world would depend on how quickly he reported his findings to the UN security head and whether that was followed by prompt action or not. The electrical storm had subsided, and he was pleased to see a few electric vehicles out on the roads again. The journey along the N2 highway from Cape Town had been uneventful, except for the brief warning call he had managed to put through to Lydia. He hoped she was okay, together with Peter and Simeon. He was particularly fond of Simeon, a foster-home success story that could have had a different outcome. In fact, all his people had a success story of their own, not least of all Peter, the former and sometimes overzealous ex-fisherman.

Cornelius recognised the exit sign on the highway which would connect him to the old road that was the only possible approach by land to the global security cluster headquarters. As his vintage Ford Mustang rumbled into the sleepy town, anxious locals heard the noise and spilled out to see the over 200-year-old relic of an age gone by. With a throaty growl, the vehicle wound down the steep incline, treating the captain to a picturesque view of the sea. With his eye for landscape art, Cornelius appreciated the picture-postcard view: the seemingly endless white-sand beach continually caressed by the warm turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean, all bathed in a soft glow as the early-morning sun kissed the barrier separating water and sky. A whale breaching the waves with a loud splash completed the picture. His hand trembled slightly as he recalled the gruesome events that had led him here, and he regretted being the bearer of bad news that would soon disrupt the serene morning.

The global security cluster had assumed control and promptly converted all prime real estate from the Cape St Blaize Lighthouse Complex to the Bartolomeu Dias Museum into their base. Cornelius found the military entrance gate and waited for the guard. An eager young soldier approached and inspected his security clearances. Satisfied, he scanned the underbelly of the Ford for concealed explosives and then waved him in. Cornelius weaved his way to the visitors’ bay, where he parked the Mustang, grateful that this part of the trip was over. Bounding out of the car with a youthful alacrity that belied his age, he walked briskly to reception. The receptionist would usually have asked for the reason for his visit, but when she saw the lapel bearing all his military honours, she waved him through without any questioning. Cornelius had visited the global security head before and easily located the office once a brief three-factor biometric verification matched his fingerprint, heartbeat and voice records.

He found the head of security in his office, a strong cup of Arabica in his hands. He was known for two qualities: an unparalleled dedication to the job, evidenced by his presence in the office on a Sunday, and a quick temper. He barked a command to an underling, who swiftly returned with a cup of coffee for Cornelius.

Without enquiring about his welfare, he gruffly began, “This must be very important for you to drive all the way from Cape Town in that pile of steel.”

“Greetings, Global Head, General Munroe. I’m afraid we have a situation, and it’s one that threatens life as we know it.”

The general gives a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment. “My team identified at least three unusual events between Friday and today. Do you have additional intel on this, Captain?”

“Sir, the threat profile matches what your own people have already detected.”

“I see. What is the code level of this threat according to your findings?”

Cornelius leaned forward. “Code Blue.”

All colour drained from the general’s face, and he appeared to briefly lose his composure. Code Blue was the highest alert possible, reserved for extraterrestrial attack. Contrary to public belief, the higher echelons of government had long been aware of supernatural acts that could not be explained. However, such information was usually confined to the corridors of the mysterious Area 51 in Nevada, USA.

He reached for the red phone on his desk and called his lieutenant. “Initiate Code Blue protocols. Assemble the security cluster heads in the situation room.”

“Which of the heads, sir? Air, Water, Land?”

“And Space. Five minutes, immediately!”

He turned to Cornelius. “Follow me. Take this access card for your safety. Without it, our defence mechanism won’t recognise your clearance level, and you risk being neutralised.”

He grabbed an imposing-looking dossier and hurried off with Cornelius in tow, their shiny military boots clip-clopping on the shiny wood floor. Within minutes, they were seated in the situation room with the security cluster. The five men and the female head of Water Operations sat spread out around a U-shaped boardroom table. The general hurriedly introduced Cornelius and motioned him to explain why they were gathered there.

Cornelius recognised some of the heads who were based in South Africa. The heads of Land Operations and Space Operations were respectively General Zami and General Landi, two brothers Cornelius had trained with in the past. Tall, with striking features and decorated with an impressive number of military achievements, they watched him with intimidating gazes.

Cornelius walked up to the touch screen. “Lady and gentlemen, invoking Code Blue is not a decision taken lightly. As you may have observed, multiple flashpoints indicate the potential onset of conflict. I believe the events that I’m about to discuss are connected.”

Cornelius zoomed in and out of the global map as he summarised the recent activity.

“Denman Glacier, in Antarctica, is where it all started two days ago ... It seems our Agent, Commander Micah Moresheth discovered the first extraterrestrial that is now at the heart of a major pursuit. We suspect this extraterrestrial entity is being pursued due to its ability to readily modify itself, potentially involving the rapid redeployment of RNA matter. This ability allows it to shape-shift and mimic both humans and animals. An ability such is this is clearly a highly valued skill that could have devastating consequences if it fell into the wrong hands. Commander Moresheth is presumed dead. You will also see that there is recent evidence of high-energy weapons in that region, only one hour ago.”

He cleared his throat before carrying on with the briefing. “Then we zoom in on Israel. It seems rival extraterrestrials launched their operation from a cave called Endor. Yesterday at midday, we detected signals of heightened gamma-wave activity devoid of any identifiable human presence. The extraterrestrials then proceeded to embark on a flight to Cape Town, where they executed seven of our operatives to hijack an aircraft before pursuing one of our agents to the Denman Glacier.”

General Sizwe, the security head of Air Operations, interrupted. “How do they move across borders?”

“Good question. It appears they have no visible natural form. They are parasitic entities that infiltrate the human body, essentially acting as body snatchers. They take over a human body in the same way the Cordyceps fungus does an ant and redirects its behaviour in a zombie-like fashion. They discard their host bodies after use. We subsequently arrested two Israeli drug addicts who were unwittingly used to courier these extraterrestrials to Cape Town.”

“Captain,” the Land Security Head spoke, “I understand that at least two of your agents have gone rogue. Are you not simply trying to cover up poor governance in your agency with this far-fetched story?”

A verbal answer wouldn’t have sufficed. With eyes of the room following his every move, Cornelius silently selected a file. He then played the close-up video of Ananias and Sapphira attacking EMASAR agents, zooming in on their glowing red eyes. The meeting gasped collectively.

“Please accept my apologies, Captain,” General Sizwe grunted. “It’s not that I don’t believe you and clearly this footage is very upsetting. But we must triple-check all claims before we deploy billions of dollars’ worth of classified equipment.”

Cornelius continued, “It gets worse. The extraterrestrials have spawned a swarm of locusts that will support their cause.”

At the mention of this, a sudden commotion ensued among the assembled officers.

A few voices rose up. “Just get some pesticides, man!”

“Is this a plague of biblical proportions? Any pharaohs in the house?”

“You’re in the wrong meeting, Captain. Go to the agricultural society.”

The meeting dissolved in nervous laughter.

Cornelius stared them all down until they shifted uncomfortably under his formidable gaze.

He then proceeded to magnify an image depicting a ravaged village in Madagascar. “This was their stopover a few hours ago. See all these bones splattered with blood? The carcasses? That was an entire herd of cattle only yesterday. These are not everyday locusts. Pesticides won’t cut it.”

The room was silent as everyone studied the gruesome image. “Do you have visuals of these creatures?” asked General Sizwe.

Cornelius nodded. “Our high-resolution satellite captured this phenomenon in the morning. It appears to resemble an aggressive case of genetic splicing. Locust body, human face, horse legs, scorpion tail.”

When Cornelius zoomed in on the image, all the security cluster heads rose and leaned forward to get a better view. Disbelief and dread on each of their faces. Cornelius continued. “We have authenticated these images through our central archives. They are verified. What you are looking at is very real.”

“Who’s leading your mission on the ground, Captain?” General Landi, the Space Head, enquired. His short hair was styled in a traditional army crew-cut.

“Her name is Lydia. She is a globally acclaimed journalist renowned for her efforts to combat poaching.”

“Captain, is it true that her mission was unauthorised?”

“I have ratified her actions. She may have acted a bit hastily. However, if it weren’t for her actions, we would have been a day behind in uncovering this threat. I have complete confidence in Lydia’s competence. The three agents who are accompanying her – Agents Simeon, Peter and the humanoid JJ7 – rank as some of my most accomplished operatives. Together, I believe, they form a formidable team.”

General Munroe brusquely cut the debate short. “Enough. It is clear that we have a credible threat. Let’s not waste any more time, or more precious lives could be lost. These parasite extraterrestrials could potentially overthrow governments, and their spawn could wipe out entire cities. Imagine the global pandemonium? Panic, disorder, market failures and large-scale deaths at a level last seen 200 years ago with COVID-19. Entire economies could be lost. We must move swiftly. Captain Cornelius, do you have a recommendation for us as to how to proceed to counter this attack?”

“Firstly, we have to deploy high-speed jets to East Antarctica. According to the intelligence we gathered, it looks like whatever is about to go down will start there. Secondly, authorise the space cadets to use the directed-energy lasers to eliminate the locust men. And thirdly ... pray.”

General Sizwe, who had, rather unusually, kept his aviator sunglasses on during the meeting, rose and made a quick call in the corner of the room to dispatch the jets as the head of security for Air Operations. Within minutes, they heard the deafening blasts as a fleet of pulsar jets took off in rapid succession. The hypersonic pulsar jets would reach Lydia’s team in Antarctica within the hour, providing a high probability that her mission will be successful. They would be trailed by a considerably slower Class-15 aircraft carrier, serving as a backup support unit with refuelling capabilities for the return journey.

A media liaison was summoned into the meeting and took brief instructions on how to deflect unnecessary media scrutiny and thus avoid widespread panic. Upon the media liaison’s departure General Sizwe also excused himself from the meeting, muttering something about a bathroom break. He promptly proceeded to the nearest bathroom, where he made another call, reversing his earlier East Antarctica instructions and provided West Antarctica coordinates to the pulsar jets. He would later blame fatigue for the rogue behaviour that ensured the jets would fail to arrive in time to help Lydia. Following the call, he removed his sunglasses to clean them thoroughly. Fortunately for him, no one noticed the red glow emanating from his downcast eyes in the shadows.

General Munroe began delivering his closing remarks while the security cluster set about coordinating their next actions just in time for General Sizwe to slip back in, his eyes once again hidden behind his aviator shades.

“I anticipate a tense and pivotal couple of days,” remarked the general. “Use the next half-hour to arrange a change of clothing because once the action starts, we will all have to direct our forces from this situation room.” He turned to Captain Cornelius. “Captain, you presented three recommendations, but I would suggest we substitute your third suggestion of prayer with something a bit more effective. We will have no choice if Lydia’s mission proves unsuccessful.”

“What’s that?” asked Cornelius.

“A direct nuclear strike. We can’t afford to allow these extraterrestrials to escape the confines of the Antarctic area. I’m sorry, but we can’t spare a handful of lives to risk millions.”

“I assure you, General, it won’t come to that. Lydia is the best of the best. Nonetheless, how much time do we have?”

“If we don’t have answers from Lydia by 1 pm South Africa Standard Time, we will deploy a 50-megaton nuclear bomb over East Antarctica. No extraterrestrial will survive that.”

“Neither will Lydia and her team.”

“Captain, you mentioned she is accompanied by Agent Simeon. He is one of the world’s leading Special Force tacticians over such terrain. If anyone can get Lydia down the Denman Glacier and back before 1 pm, it will be Simeon.”