Author : Sharoda

My father died today, not from the invaders but from old age.

When the First Wave was discovered heading for earth I was still young. I can remember everyone sitting around the TV watching the talking heads as they pretended they had a clue what was going to happen; everyone except my father.

I remember him talking to friends and relatives about how bad this was and how people should prepare. They called him a doomsayer; he said he knew how Noah felt when he started building the Ark. He didn’t care, he started to organize.

By the time the First Wave hit most of the world was convinced that E.T was coming to welcome us to the wonders of the universe.

Hundreds of millions died in the first attack, they hit every major population center. Few places were able to mount any kind of defense much less a counter attack. My father’s group of “crazy’s” from their bases in the Adirondacks was one. They were the core of what became the North American Resistance.

After the devastation of the First Wave many people were ready to give up and let the invaders take over. My father called a meeting of what leaders could be found. The assembled leaders were filled with a patriotic fervor by my father’s impassioned speech. It ended with what became our rallying cry.

“Not one grain of sand, not one blade of grass, not one leaf from one tree will I give up. This planet is ours!”

“NOT 1” was painted, scratched, chiseled, and blasted into every surface.

The resistance grew and within a month we brought down an intact machine; more followed. We learned their language, their science, their codes, their history and their plans for earth; we learned that, though still far away, the Second Wave was already in route.

We fought them on the ground and developed tactics that took advantage of their weaknesses.

Still it was years before we were back in orbit, in ships that combined their technology and ours. In the first attack on a First Wave mega ship my father was the commander. Many told him he should stay on the ground where it was relatively safe.

“What if you get killed”, he was asked more than once.

“What if I don’t go”, was always his answer.

Three of the seven ships came back but the mega ship was destroyed.

Years of grinding war continued as we drove them from the skies and from every corner of the planet; then more years of preparing for the Second Wave.

We met them just outside the orbit of Saturn. We destroyed or captured most of their ships. When commanders asked about prisoners my father, now the elected Planetary Leader, answered simply “Not 1”.

My father was not young when the invasion started. Now, as the new fleet is nearing completion, the years have finally caught up with him.

Every day dozens of people come to the house, just to see him. We don’t turn anyone away as long as they’re quiet and respectful; they always are.

Tomorrow I’ll talk to the fleet commanders as they prepare the Third Wave, our Wave, our attack on their home world. I’ll remind them of my father’s last words. “Not 1”, he said and then closed his eyes for the last time.

My father died today, of old age.

In a world that was invaded, where more than a billion died simply for being human, which has been in a planetary war for decades, it means only one thing. We’ve already won.

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