Ch. 4

Lancelot R. Gilligrass, President of the United States, had always considered himself the kind of leader most men strove to be. He was brave, he was stalwart, he was inventive, and in times of crisis, he kept a cool head. Hadn't the events of the last few months proved that? Between giant fruit falling from the sky and his country's Space Hotel being invaded by slimy, man-eating aliens, President Gilligrass knew that a lesser man than he would have certainly gone to pieces. As such, he was not all that surprised when NASA requested he make an emergency flight to Houston to deal with yet another problem, Lancelot R. Gilligrass knew just what to do.

"Nanny, tell Houston that if the Vermicious Knids are attacking again that they better be ready to launch missiles at them straight away!"

"You heard the President!" Vice President Ms. Elvira Tibbs snapped at the pilot. "Tell Houston to be ready to launch the missiles at the Vermicious Knids!"
"I don't think they mentioned anything about Vermicious Knids, Mr. President," the pilot replied as he guided the President's private plane into the smoothest landing he could.

"Well, what else could the emergency be?"

"I don't know, sir, but no doubt you're about to find out." The pilot nodded at the guards and NASA employees waiting anxiously by the runway. Under the pilot's experienced hands, the plane skidded to a perfect stop just in front of where the men were waiting and they all rushed forward as the pilot jumped up from his seat to open the door.

"Humph, it better not be the Russians, Nanny, or I'll blow them up too."

"Of course you will and they'll deserve it."

"Mr. President!" One of the men rushed forward, closely followed by two grim-looking CIA agents wearing suits that were too small and sunglasses that were too big.

"Yes, yes, I'm here, Mr..."

"Calverton, sir. Christopher Calverton, at your service."

"Well, what's this all about, Calverton? Don't tell me those awful Vermicious Knids are bothering us again. I thought I gave the order to deep-freeze the Space Hotel."

"You did, Mr. President, you did!" Christopher bobbed about the two officials as he led the way into a large dome-shaped building. "It's not about the Vermicious Knids. It's about-"

"Have the Russians tried to take over the Space Hotel?"

"I don't think so, Mr. President. It's-"

"Or the Chinese?"

"Not that we know of, Mr. President, but-"

"Has Mr. Hilton tried to launch his own hotel into space?"

"... not to my knowledge, sir."

"THEN WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER, MAN?"

"We think..." Christopher looked around nervously as the small group paused inside a long white hallway. "We think we've been contacted by... aliens."

"Calverton... WE ALREADY WERE CONTACTED BY ALIENS!"

"Well... yes, but... not really." Christopher tried to maintain his composure as President Gilligrass and Ms. Tibbs glared back at him. "What I mean is that we were attacked by the Vermicious Knids, yes, but they didn't bother to establish communication with us."

"And now they are?"

"Maybe...?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE? ARE THEY OR ARE THEY NOT?"

"We don't think it's the Vermicious Knids reaching out to us, Mr. President. But we are certain that someone is."

"So..." President Gilligrass felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. "There are other aliens?"

"We think so, sir. In fact, we're almost certain. That's why-"

"Well, why didn't you say so, man? Hurry up and take me to the communications room!"

"... right away, Mr. President."

The group all but ran down the rest of the hallway and burst into a large room whose walls were covered with blinking machines and large screens. Several dozen workers, all wearing bulky headsets, swarmed around the machines, pushing buttons, pulling levers, and scanning print-outs of numbers.

"President Gilligrass!"

The room went quiet and a good many of the workers jumped to their feet out of awe at the sight of their leader.

"Yes yes, good to see you all, what's this about aliens?"

"Over here, sir!" A group of three men and two women were crowded around a screen showing a black sky speckled with stars and a few flashing lights.

"It's still there?" Christopher asked as he led the President over.

"Yes, sir."

"Knock knock."

"Uh, who's there, Mr. President?"

"Space cases."

"Space cases who?"

"Space cases make head cases! Now tell me what I'm looking at!"

"Well, you see, sir-"

"No we don't see," Ms. Tibbs snapped. "Now answer the President's question or you're fired!"

"Yes, Ms. Vice President. Ahem, earlier today, astronauts Bud Shuckworth, Chad Showler, and Lenny Shanks were on a routine mission to patrol the skies around the Space Hotel, USA. However, they reported trouble with asteroids and we lost all communication with them."

"Shuckworth, Showler, and Shanks are missing?"

"Yes, Mr. President. We've been trying to locate their rocket since this morning. But around noon, that suddenly appeared in the sky."

Christopher pointed at the screen, where a small light continued to flash. However, the light grew closer to the screen and a small triangular shape suddenly flew by before dwindling back into a mere speck of brightness in the starry sky.

"Was that a satellite?"

"Yes, Mr. President. But it's not one of ours."

"So it is the Russians behind this!"

"No, Mr. President."

"The Chinese?"

"No, sir."

"Mr. Hilton?"

"It's... the satellite didn't come from Earth, Mr. President."

"What?"

"Yes. It seemed to just appear out of nowhere and has been orbiting the skies between Earth and Mars for at least an hour now. We've been able to take several photographs of it and it's like nothing that could be made here."

President Gilligrass stared at the screen again, his mind racing. The strange satellite continued to blink, its light like a cheeky wink behind a stern teacher's back. Right, he knew what to do.

"Call the Head of the Air Force! Call the Head of the Army! Call the Head of Homeland Security! We're going to blow whoever's trying to spy on us right out of space before they can lay one slimy-"

"Sir!" One of the workers seated before a six-foot screen whirled around, his eye as wide as dinner plates in his face. "I think... I think we have a message coming through!"

"A message?" Christopher Calverton gasped.

"A message?" Ms. Elvira Tibbs boomed.

"A MESSAGE!" President Lancelor R. Gilligrass raced over to the screen. "Are you telling me... an alien is trying to talk to us?"

"I... I... I think so. Look!" The worker's screen was filled with static, but it was slowly clearing, a large bulky shape starting to take form. "I think whoever or whatever launched the satellite did so because they wanted to reach us from wherever they are."

"What do we-"

"Aha!" President Gilligrass nearly jumped for joy at his brilliant deduction. "Don't you see what's going on here? These beasts have kidnapped Shuckworth, Showler, and Shanks and now they're holding them for ransom!"

"But Mr. President, we don't-"

"Oh-ho, we'll show them! Once they start talking, I want everyone in this room to track where the signal is coming from. We'll pretend to listen and then blow them sky-high! I won't have aliens threatening any more of my astronauts, no indeed!"

"No indeed," agreed Ms. Tibbs. "You'd better be ready to talk to whoever is trying to get through."

"Right. Is this microphone working?"

"Yes, Mr. President." Christopher sighed with resignation. "Everything's all ready to go. Neil, give the President your seat."

Obediently, the NASA worker stood aside to let President Gilligrass sit in front of the screen. The rest of the group hovered around their leader and the the majority of activity in the room ceased as every eye fixed onto the glass pane. Another burst of static filled the screen before it suddenly cut to show a clear picture, eliciting a huge round of gasps at what stood before them.

The six-foot screen was dominated by a massive man-like figure made entirely of shining metal. While the head of the robot was dark blue, its face was shining silver and its bulky shoulders were red. As for the rest of its body, no one could say because the screen cut off somewhere around the robot's middle, indicating its towering height. The robot's mouth appeared to be covered by some kind of mask hiding its mouth, but its eyes were light blue and softly glowing. On its left shoulder was some kind of sigil that looked as if it had been branded into the metal and then covered in white paint. Though he couldn't say for sure, President Gilligrass was certain it was a mark of leadership as the robot stood with the same kind of quiet and dignified authority that Lancelot knew he himself portrayed. Well, then, at least these aliens were smart enough to have some form of government.

"Greetings," the robot said. His voice was deep, but low and gentle and President Gilligrass instinctively felt himself relaxing at the sound. "My name is Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots. I am reaching out to you from the planet Cybertron. Am I coming in clear?"

For a moment, everyone was too stunned to speak. Swallowing, President Gilligrass grasped the microphone in his right hand and replied,

"You... you are. I am Lancelot R. Gilligrass, President of the United States of America on the planet Earth."

Optimus Prime inclined his head slightly. "I am glad I was able to reach you, President Gilligrass. The files inside your soldiers' ship mentioned you and an organization called 'NASA.' I presume you have knowledge of them?"

"Our ship? So you did kidnap them!"

"I assure you we did not." Optimus held up a blue hand in what appeared to be a calming gesture. "We found your ship crashed on a planet my Autobots were scouting and the people inside injured. We merely brought them back to Cybertron for treatment."

"A likely story. Why should I believe you?"

"Have you been hurt by our kind before?"

"We didn't even know your kind existed before now."

"I see," Optimus answered, a note of relief in his voice. "Well, let me assure you, President Gilligrass, that I am telling you the truth. Your men- Bud Shuckworth, Leonard Showler, and Charles Shanks- are safe. They are currently in our Med Bay and we are waiting on them to reactivate so that we can assess their condition. Once we are certain they are out of danger, we will send them back to you."

"You... you plan on sending them back?"

"Of course. They are not our prisoners."

"What do you want in exchange for them?"

"Nothing. We only wish to help."

"It's a trick," someone whispered. "They want you to invite them to Earth so that they can take over, Mr. President. Bet you anything Shuckworth, Shanks, and Showler have been ground up like sausage meat."

"Don't be ridiculous. Robots don't eat sausages," President Gilligrass hissed back. Clearing his throat, the president addressed Optimus again. "You say you're from a place called Cybertron?"

"That is correct."

"I've never heard of the place."

"We had not heard of Earth until we researched your rocket's files. Considering we are several galaxies apart, it's hardly surprising."

"Beg pardon, sir." Christopher Calverton spoke up. "I'm with NASA; that's short for 'National Aeronautics and Space Administration,' by the way. How did you transport our ship and astronauts to your planet in such a short frame of time? By our count, they haven't even been missing a full day."

"We used a space bridge, a technology that allows for instantaneous travel anywhere in the universe. Once your astronauts are cleared for travel, we will use that same technology to send them back to Earth."

"Instantaneous travel?" Christopher could barely get the words out. "You... you can do that?"

"We can."

"Then why not send our men and rocket back now?"

"As I stated, President Gilligrass, we want to make sure the three humans are medically cleared for travel. As for your rocket, well, we had to nearly take it apart in order to get your astronauts out for treatment. My team is fixing it as we speak and we will send it back through the space bridge with your men."

"You said Shuckworth, Showler, and Shanks are being cared for?"

"They are."

"I want to see them."

"I'm afraid they have not yet come back online; they are in a state of deep recharge and need to be monitored. However, my chief medical officer would be happy to speak with you, if you'll permit it."

"I'll allow it," President Gilligrass answered, folding his hands neatly in front of him. Always show who was in charge, after all, and there was no way President Lancelot R. Gilligrass was not in charge.

Optimus nodded and stepped to one side. Another robot came into view and while he was a good deal shorter than Optimus, he was still tall enough for the screen to hide most of his stature. This robot was painted white with red crosses on his shoulders and a red visor above his bright blue eyes. His bulky chest was covered with a large glass screen below which he bore the same mark as Optimus Prime, though his was red. Like Optimus, the white robot's face was silver in color, but unlike Optimus, he had no mask across his mouth. When he spoke, his voice had a pleasant tone.

"Greetings to you, President Gilligrass and NASA. I am Ratchet, Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots. I have been personally attending to the care of your fellow humans and I am pleased to report that their condition appears stable."

"How can you be certain? Have you treated humans before?"

"I have some experience treating organic creatures, but not humans, no. Thankfully, we were able to access the medical files stored within your rocket's computers-"

"Medical files are private!"

"Indeed! It's against the law to look at them!" Ms. Tibbs added.

"I understand and I assure you that they will remain private. However, I needed that information to provide proper medical care to your friends. I hope you can understand that."

"Under the circumstances, we can allow it," President Gilligrass replied, feeling rather righteous as he spoke. Good, these robots weren't going to take advantage of him. "But I want to speak to my men."

"Of course. As soon as they reactivate, I will let you know."

"What do you mean by 'reactivate?' They're men, not machines."

"Yes, President Gilligrass, I'm aware of that. By your terms, your men are unconscious and I am waiting on them to wake. They are breathing on their own and their vital signs are healthy. However, they all sustained wounds to their helms- their heads- and I understand that can lead to damage to a human brain, can it not?"

"Well, so I've been told. I'm no doctor, but- Calverton, get the best surgeons and medics you have on base over here right away!"

"Yes, Mr. President!" Christopher raced off to summon the nearest medical team as President Gilligrass turned back to Ratchet. "What if we were to send our doctors to you?"

"I'm not sure that would be wise, President Gilligrass," Optimus answered. "Operating the space bridge takes a good deal of energy, which is currently in short supply on Cybertron right now. That's why we were visiting the planet your rocket crashed on; we were hoping to find new sources of energy far enough to where our enemies wouldn't be able to stop us."

"Your enemies?"

"I'm afraid so." Optimus sighed as he and Ratchet exchanged a heavy glance. "Our planet is in the midst of civil war, a conflict that stretches back more years than even I care to remember. We Autobots are constantly challenged by a Cybertronian named Megatron, who seeks to bring all of Cybertron under the rule of his Decepticons."

"Decepticons?"

"Yes. As of now, we have been victorious against the Decepticons' attacks, but Megatron is both brutal and cunning. Nearly every battle against him results in heavy damage to both sides, sometimes with fatal results. We were able to open a space bridge for our scouting mission because we had recently repelled a Decepticon attack outside of our main city, but it won't be long before Megatron attacks again. If we continually operate a space bridge, he will most certainly notice and I will not risk your people being caught in the midst of our war."

"You said you would send Shuckworth, Showler, and Shanks home. Won't you need a space bridge to do that?"

"We will. Once they are out of the Med Bay, we will make plans to use the space bridge without attracting too much attention from the Decepticons as well as coordinate with you and your people regarding the best time and location for the return to take place. I understand your concern, President Gilligrass, but I cannot risk allowing the Decepticons access to your world. I won't be responsible for causing you harm and I will do everything in my power to defend you if needs be."

"You will?"

"You have my word as an Autobot."

"Well then... thank you, Optimus Prime, I accept your help. But I still want to talk to Shuckworth, Showler, and Shanks before anything is decided."

"Certainly. We will keep you informed about their condition," Ratchet said.

"In the meantime, I can send you a report on their current conditions via our satellite"

"So it was you who launched it."

"Actually, it was my scientist Wheeljack who built it, but yes, we launched that satellite into your galaxy so that we could establish communication," Optimus answered. "You are also free to communicate with us as you see fit."

"Excellent. Ahh, good, NASA's doctors are here." President Gilligrass nodded as a troop of men and women in white doctors' coats and nurses' uniforms filed into the room. "I'm sure they can provide you with whatever information you're lacking."

"That would be most helpful. I'll send my report over now; please send over any and all information you can, particularly anything regarding how to treat any injuries to the human head and brain," Ratchet requested.

"I will inform you once your three astronauts have awakened," Optimus said as Ratchet stepped away from the screen. "And if you require anything more from us, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Knock-knock."

"... I beg your pardon, President Gilligrass?"

"They may not be familiar with knock-knock jokes, Mr. President," Ms. Tibbs whispered.

"Oh, right... ahem. Ah, Optimus Prime?"

"Yes?"

"What do you know about Vermiscious Knids?"