Chapter 1
Tank was already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he saw to breakfast, allowing the aroma from the cooked egg to entice his large appetite as he worked. He was secretly grateful for being allocated the role of household cook; he found the action therapeutic and enough to distract him from his inner troubles. He was less jittery at the sound of his father’s loud voice when it could be heard, doing little more than reaching out to tap his shoulder.
“Morning soldier!”
“Morning Sir!” came his chirpy reply as he gave a snappy salute, not turning to face Buzz for fear of letting the food catch, but for no other reason.
“Smells good!”
“Thanks,” Tank grinned, serving up the omelette before holding his thumb and index finger between his lips to deliver a piercing whistle.
“Come and get it!!” he bellowed, almost at the same volume as his father, who didn’t so much as flinch as he took his plate.
It wasn’t Ripp who answered the call first, but his youngest brother Buck.
“Morning Junior,” Tank greeted with a fond smile as he sat to his own meal.
“Hi,” the blond boy grinned back as he took his seat.
Cheery whistling could be heard from a distance, growing louder as a now fully awakened Ripp ambled into the kitchen.
“Morning Junior,” Tank repeated, this time his smile taking on a wry demeanour.
“Yo,” he greeted as he sat at the table. Upon catching sight of Tank’s face however, he broke into a fit of sniggers as he loaded his fork.
“What?!”
“Hiding the bruises Johnny gave you?” he teased, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
“Shut up,” came the biting reply as Tank’s features creased into an angry scowl.
Buzz looked at him with a surprised expression, realising now there lurked an underlying motive for the face paint.
“Tank, really…” he remarked coolly, tutting and shaking his head, “Not good, son.”
“I know, I know,” Tank conceded, after swallowing his mouthful of food.
“You lost to an alien?!” Buzz continued, “Not losing your touch, I hope?”
Ripp snorted at the hypocrisy of their father’s words, but stifled the urge to remind him of that by chewing on another mouthful of omelette.
“No, course not,” Tank soothed with a smile, “He was just lucky this time…”
“He kicked your ass!” Ripp proclaimed triumphantly, “Admit it Tank, you suck!”
Tank bit his tongue, but the anger etched on his face amplified the contempt he now expressed by extending his middle finger.
Ripp merely sniggered as he swallowed his mouthful, but after basking in the glory of the moment, the smile slipped from his lips as he spoke again.
“What’ve you got against him, anyways?” he quizzed, “Johnny’s a nice guy, why don’t you give him a chance?”
“He’s alien!” came the simple reply.
“Half alien,” Ripp rectified, knowing almost as soon as he said it that his words would carry no weight.
“He’s still green!” Tank growled, finalising his analysis of the situation with a stubborn bite on a new piece of omelette.
Ripp slowly shook his head in disapproval, before voicing his thoughts.
“No wonder you don’t have any friends,” he grumbled as he stabbed at the food with his fork.
“What’s that s’posed to mean?!”
“We’re all different - would be pretty borin’ if we weren’t, wouldn’t it? So how’re you gonna make friends if you’re gonna hate anyone remotely different?!”
Tank didn’t answer, instead concentrating on his breakfast. Ripp read his brother’s silence as a small victory, but decided against holding his breath just yet.
“Heyaaa!!”
The punchbag suffered a fierce kick to its midriff. Youthful fists sank into the thick canvas coating of the bag, followed by another foot, a few more punches, and then a pause joined by short, sharp breaths.
Johnny burned off not only his own meal, but also hatred, frustration, anger, mixed with unhappy undertones as he gazed at the unyielding sack before him. The scratches he’d sustained the day before stung a little, not much, but enough to remind him of the seemingly ongoing feud between the two families. Like father like son, he mused as he remembered his own father’s scuffle with Buzz. No, that wasn’t strictly true, he remembered quickly. What of Ripp, with whom he got on so well? Knowing of his background, mainly from the times Johnny had offered himself as a sounding board to the stricken youth, he felt so sorry for his friend. Buck seemed to be following him as opposed to Tank, and that concerned him very much. In itself, it was a wonderful thing that only Tank had inherited Buzz’s vicious streak, although it also meant another being in that house would suffer under their father’s stern rule.
Although none of his business, his compassionate nature stirred a sadness within him as he contemplated the situation. It did involve him a little, the scratches on his arms reminded him. As he glanced back at the bag, his energy replenished enough for another round, his eyes narrowed as he saw his adversary in its place.
A renewed frustration bubbled deep within as he eyed the lad’s hard expression. How anyone could be so hateful, merely through a difference in colour and race, was beyond his realm of reason, and he idly wondered sometimes if that would ever change.
He didn’t train alone, however; large, unearthly eyes watched from a distance as he continued to unleash his anger.
Johnny’s father, who had adopted the name Peter as he began his new life on earth, watched with great concern as the teenager pummelled the punchbag so fiercely, he threatened to rip through the fabric. He knew the drive behind his swings, and sighed with a heavy heart as his mind drifted back to his unpleasant encounters with the bigoted general. He couldn’t understand how someone in command of so many people, whose job it was to trust them, could be so shallow. That was, until his imagination painted a picture of such a scene onto the canvas of his mind. Probably all white men, he mused with a wry smile.
He knew better than to assume all humans were so ignorant, however. One glance at his very human wife was enough to banish such thoughts from his mind. No, Buzz was the first he’d come across, but he was far from the last. Human nature reared its ugly head in many areas; he was only thankful he’d found the few golden apples among those that were going rotten. They shone in the most unlikely of places too, not only in the form of Ripp and Buck, but also his son’s love Ophelia. Mind you, she suffered discrimination herself, and she was human. Why did this species hate each other so much?
Being the first to finish breakfast meant Ripp was the first to leave for school. He would often bolt down his food just to get away from the older members of his family, and leaving early gave him time to stroll dreamily along the dusty path, his body down Road To Nowhere and his mind down Memory Lane. So different was he to them, and so thankful in some aspects for being that way. It meant that he was more open to making friends, although he chose his circle carefully. People like Johnny, with just as many problems blending in as he felt he had, made his life that bit more bearable.
“Hey, wait up!”
The childish voice pulled him from his musings, a flicker of a smile playing upon his lips as his younger brother trotted to his side.
“Hey,” he grinned in reply, “Come on then, let’s go wait for the bus.”
They waited in silence for a while, before Buck’s thoughtful mind brought a question to his lips.
“Why do you always look so sad?”
Ripp’s head sank into his chest, his eyes closed in the mounting grief he felt. Without demonising his other family members, there was only one way he could answer.
“I miss Mom,” he replied simply, “Talking on the phone’s cool I guess, but it’s not the same…”
“Why did she leave?” Buck asked, feeling saddened himself. She had gone when he was still a baby, so his memories were not as strong as those of the rest of the family.
“I don’t know,” came the evasive reply, but what he was tempted to say was, perhaps their father had driven her away with his militaristic attitude. Not to mention his apparent desire to fight with as many of Strangetown’s residents as humanly possible. Ripp often wondered what she ever saw in him, but knew better than to complain - if she hadn’t, neither him nor his brothers would have ever existed.
Johnny whistled to himself as he waited for his knocks to be answered, even breaking into air guitar solos once in a while as his whistles became sung words. He wasn’t the best of singers, but that didn’t bother him - his tool of choice was the guitar, and he wielded it well. A fond smile played upon his face as he remembered today would be practice day, where he and his friends would find a likely room to hone their musical skills. As a well-trained female voice sung along, he smiled as one such friend appeared at the door.
They sung together for a moment, before the manner of their greeting changed entirely.
“Morning honey,” he grinned as he hooked his arms around Ophelia’s waist.
“Morning,” she replied, snuggling close to him before their lips pressed softly against each other.
“How’re you?” he asked as they moved off to wait for the bus, their arms round each other as they chatted.
“I’m good thanks, you?” she replied, before her mirth faded. “How’re you doin’ after yesterday?”
“Ah, he just got a few scratches in, is all,” he dismissed at first, his mood dropping as he continued, “Physically, anyways…”
“Tank’s a jerk,” she sneered, “He ain’t worth beating yourself up over.”
“Yeah,” he snorted in reply, “So’s his Dad, and it’s rubbing off on him. It ain’t just me suffering for it either, that’s the worst bit about it all.”
“I know,” she acknowledged sadly, although as they waited an affectionate smile took hold of her lips. Every one of the Smiths was a good person, and she thought herself lucky to land a catch such as him. It was times like this she became even more thankful for a partner like him; a caring nature a mile wide, fuelled no doubt in part by his own troubles. She often wondered casually if it would be as prominent if he hadn’t, but knew better than to chew over that thought for long. The main thing was, although he easily defeated Tank in a fight thanks to his self-defence classes, he never fought unless he absolutely had to… unlike some, she mused bitterly.
“Hey, you know this festival coming up pretty soon?” she asked suddenly, pulling the subject onto a lighter path.
“Oh yeah,” came the reply, a grin spreading across his face in anticipation. “Was gonna ask about taking Ripp along…”
Ophelia paused, momentarily cocking her head. “Didn’t know aliens could read minds,” she hinted with a wink.
Johnny merely chuckled at the reference, reading the comment as it was intended. “I’ll take that as a yes then?” he replied.
“He’s gonna love it,” she agreed, “Might even find some romance up there!”
At first he chuckled at the suggestion, before pondering the possibility.
“Mm, maybe,” he shrugged, “It ain’t like he has the choice we do though, huh?”
“He’ll have more chance up there than he will down here.”
“That wouldn’t take much,” he scoffed in reply.
“Exactly.”
“Well, worth a shot I guess,” he decided, “Let’s just hope he don’t fancy going too!”
“Is it even his thing?” she checked.
“Ripp ain’t the only one there into rock and metal,” Johnny reminded, “Only difference is, he chose to pursue it, while Tank’s happy just to listen.”
“Ah,” she nodded in acknowledgement, before chewing over the likelihood for a moment. “Damn…”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “Better start hopin’ either he ain’t going, or if he is, he’ll have better things to do than spy on his younger brother. Things are bad enough in that family as it is.”
“Morning soldier!”
“Morning Sir!” came his chirpy reply as he gave a snappy salute, not turning to face Buzz for fear of letting the food catch, but for no other reason.
“Smells good!”
“Thanks,” Tank grinned, serving up the omelette before holding his thumb and index finger between his lips to deliver a piercing whistle.
“Come and get it!!” he bellowed, almost at the same volume as his father, who didn’t so much as flinch as he took his plate.
It wasn’t Ripp who answered the call first, but his youngest brother Buck.
“Morning Junior,” Tank greeted with a fond smile as he sat to his own meal.
“Hi,” the blond boy grinned back as he took his seat.
Cheery whistling could be heard from a distance, growing louder as a now fully awakened Ripp ambled into the kitchen.
“Morning Junior,” Tank repeated, this time his smile taking on a wry demeanour.
“Yo,” he greeted as he sat at the table. Upon catching sight of Tank’s face however, he broke into a fit of sniggers as he loaded his fork.
“What?!”
“Hiding the bruises Johnny gave you?” he teased, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
“Shut up,” came the biting reply as Tank’s features creased into an angry scowl.
Buzz looked at him with a surprised expression, realising now there lurked an underlying motive for the face paint.
“Tank, really…” he remarked coolly, tutting and shaking his head, “Not good, son.”
“I know, I know,” Tank conceded, after swallowing his mouthful of food.
“You lost to an alien?!” Buzz continued, “Not losing your touch, I hope?”
Ripp snorted at the hypocrisy of their father’s words, but stifled the urge to remind him of that by chewing on another mouthful of omelette.
“No, course not,” Tank soothed with a smile, “He was just lucky this time…”
“He kicked your ass!” Ripp proclaimed triumphantly, “Admit it Tank, you suck!”
Tank bit his tongue, but the anger etched on his face amplified the contempt he now expressed by extending his middle finger.
Ripp merely sniggered as he swallowed his mouthful, but after basking in the glory of the moment, the smile slipped from his lips as he spoke again.
“What’ve you got against him, anyways?” he quizzed, “Johnny’s a nice guy, why don’t you give him a chance?”
“He’s alien!” came the simple reply.
“Half alien,” Ripp rectified, knowing almost as soon as he said it that his words would carry no weight.
“He’s still green!” Tank growled, finalising his analysis of the situation with a stubborn bite on a new piece of omelette.
Ripp slowly shook his head in disapproval, before voicing his thoughts.
“No wonder you don’t have any friends,” he grumbled as he stabbed at the food with his fork.
“What’s that s’posed to mean?!”
“We’re all different - would be pretty borin’ if we weren’t, wouldn’t it? So how’re you gonna make friends if you’re gonna hate anyone remotely different?!”
Tank didn’t answer, instead concentrating on his breakfast. Ripp read his brother’s silence as a small victory, but decided against holding his breath just yet.
“Heyaaa!!”
The punchbag suffered a fierce kick to its midriff. Youthful fists sank into the thick canvas coating of the bag, followed by another foot, a few more punches, and then a pause joined by short, sharp breaths.
Johnny burned off not only his own meal, but also hatred, frustration, anger, mixed with unhappy undertones as he gazed at the unyielding sack before him. The scratches he’d sustained the day before stung a little, not much, but enough to remind him of the seemingly ongoing feud between the two families. Like father like son, he mused as he remembered his own father’s scuffle with Buzz. No, that wasn’t strictly true, he remembered quickly. What of Ripp, with whom he got on so well? Knowing of his background, mainly from the times Johnny had offered himself as a sounding board to the stricken youth, he felt so sorry for his friend. Buck seemed to be following him as opposed to Tank, and that concerned him very much. In itself, it was a wonderful thing that only Tank had inherited Buzz’s vicious streak, although it also meant another being in that house would suffer under their father’s stern rule.
Although none of his business, his compassionate nature stirred a sadness within him as he contemplated the situation. It did involve him a little, the scratches on his arms reminded him. As he glanced back at the bag, his energy replenished enough for another round, his eyes narrowed as he saw his adversary in its place.
A renewed frustration bubbled deep within as he eyed the lad’s hard expression. How anyone could be so hateful, merely through a difference in colour and race, was beyond his realm of reason, and he idly wondered sometimes if that would ever change.
He didn’t train alone, however; large, unearthly eyes watched from a distance as he continued to unleash his anger.
Johnny’s father, who had adopted the name Peter as he began his new life on earth, watched with great concern as the teenager pummelled the punchbag so fiercely, he threatened to rip through the fabric. He knew the drive behind his swings, and sighed with a heavy heart as his mind drifted back to his unpleasant encounters with the bigoted general. He couldn’t understand how someone in command of so many people, whose job it was to trust them, could be so shallow. That was, until his imagination painted a picture of such a scene onto the canvas of his mind. Probably all white men, he mused with a wry smile.
He knew better than to assume all humans were so ignorant, however. One glance at his very human wife was enough to banish such thoughts from his mind. No, Buzz was the first he’d come across, but he was far from the last. Human nature reared its ugly head in many areas; he was only thankful he’d found the few golden apples among those that were going rotten. They shone in the most unlikely of places too, not only in the form of Ripp and Buck, but also his son’s love Ophelia. Mind you, she suffered discrimination herself, and she was human. Why did this species hate each other so much?
Being the first to finish breakfast meant Ripp was the first to leave for school. He would often bolt down his food just to get away from the older members of his family, and leaving early gave him time to stroll dreamily along the dusty path, his body down Road To Nowhere and his mind down Memory Lane. So different was he to them, and so thankful in some aspects for being that way. It meant that he was more open to making friends, although he chose his circle carefully. People like Johnny, with just as many problems blending in as he felt he had, made his life that bit more bearable.
“Hey, wait up!”
The childish voice pulled him from his musings, a flicker of a smile playing upon his lips as his younger brother trotted to his side.
“Hey,” he grinned in reply, “Come on then, let’s go wait for the bus.”
They waited in silence for a while, before Buck’s thoughtful mind brought a question to his lips.
“Why do you always look so sad?”
Ripp’s head sank into his chest, his eyes closed in the mounting grief he felt. Without demonising his other family members, there was only one way he could answer.
“I miss Mom,” he replied simply, “Talking on the phone’s cool I guess, but it’s not the same…”
“Why did she leave?” Buck asked, feeling saddened himself. She had gone when he was still a baby, so his memories were not as strong as those of the rest of the family.
“I don’t know,” came the evasive reply, but what he was tempted to say was, perhaps their father had driven her away with his militaristic attitude. Not to mention his apparent desire to fight with as many of Strangetown’s residents as humanly possible. Ripp often wondered what she ever saw in him, but knew better than to complain - if she hadn’t, neither him nor his brothers would have ever existed.
Johnny whistled to himself as he waited for his knocks to be answered, even breaking into air guitar solos once in a while as his whistles became sung words. He wasn’t the best of singers, but that didn’t bother him - his tool of choice was the guitar, and he wielded it well. A fond smile played upon his face as he remembered today would be practice day, where he and his friends would find a likely room to hone their musical skills. As a well-trained female voice sung along, he smiled as one such friend appeared at the door.
They sung together for a moment, before the manner of their greeting changed entirely.
“Morning honey,” he grinned as he hooked his arms around Ophelia’s waist.
“Morning,” she replied, snuggling close to him before their lips pressed softly against each other.
“How’re you?” he asked as they moved off to wait for the bus, their arms round each other as they chatted.
“I’m good thanks, you?” she replied, before her mirth faded. “How’re you doin’ after yesterday?”
“Ah, he just got a few scratches in, is all,” he dismissed at first, his mood dropping as he continued, “Physically, anyways…”
“Tank’s a jerk,” she sneered, “He ain’t worth beating yourself up over.”
“Yeah,” he snorted in reply, “So’s his Dad, and it’s rubbing off on him. It ain’t just me suffering for it either, that’s the worst bit about it all.”
“I know,” she acknowledged sadly, although as they waited an affectionate smile took hold of her lips. Every one of the Smiths was a good person, and she thought herself lucky to land a catch such as him. It was times like this she became even more thankful for a partner like him; a caring nature a mile wide, fuelled no doubt in part by his own troubles. She often wondered casually if it would be as prominent if he hadn’t, but knew better than to chew over that thought for long. The main thing was, although he easily defeated Tank in a fight thanks to his self-defence classes, he never fought unless he absolutely had to… unlike some, she mused bitterly.
“Hey, you know this festival coming up pretty soon?” she asked suddenly, pulling the subject onto a lighter path.
“Oh yeah,” came the reply, a grin spreading across his face in anticipation. “Was gonna ask about taking Ripp along…”
Ophelia paused, momentarily cocking her head. “Didn’t know aliens could read minds,” she hinted with a wink.
Johnny merely chuckled at the reference, reading the comment as it was intended. “I’ll take that as a yes then?” he replied.
“He’s gonna love it,” she agreed, “Might even find some romance up there!”
At first he chuckled at the suggestion, before pondering the possibility.
“Mm, maybe,” he shrugged, “It ain’t like he has the choice we do though, huh?”
“He’ll have more chance up there than he will down here.”
“That wouldn’t take much,” he scoffed in reply.
“Exactly.”
“Well, worth a shot I guess,” he decided, “Let’s just hope he don’t fancy going too!”
“Is it even his thing?” she checked.
“Ripp ain’t the only one there into rock and metal,” Johnny reminded, “Only difference is, he chose to pursue it, while Tank’s happy just to listen.”
“Ah,” she nodded in acknowledgement, before chewing over the likelihood for a moment. “Damn…”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “Better start hopin’ either he ain’t going, or if he is, he’ll have better things to do than spy on his younger brother. Things are bad enough in that family as it is.”