April 20, 2050 — 32 years after the Arrival of the Fulthoom

Professor Porter’s hair blew wildly in the breeze while onboard the old-fashioned bi-plane. Above her, the Fulthoom Benedict Arnold flew above her at just over fifty knots.

Less than one hundred miles to the east were the remnants of the strongest hurricane of the century, hurricane Rupert, still ravaging upstate Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas. The ruins of Alabama and Southern Texas were a testament to the power of the storm before Benedict Arnold showed up.

For twenty-four hours the Fulthoom leviathan flew through hurricane Rupert, hidden from sight, appearing only momentarily above one city or another. Conflicting reports talked of how the creature flew against the storm winds, making booming sounds sometimes with only seconds between explosions of sound and gas.

From above, NASA satellites began to correlate what Professor Porter had theorized almost a decade ago and what she had suspected for some time. The Fulthoom were affecting weather patterns and particularly the activity of super-storms. For the last dozen years, the Fulthoom began to appear before the largest and most terrifying storms and circled the storms before diving into them, lost for hours or even days.

How they predicted where storms would appear was unknown, but they were highly accurate and had never missed the arrival of any known super-storm. If a large Fulthoom, particularly one of the Fifteen, was known to be changing from an established course, most people in its path, especially if the route was known for super-storm activity, left their homes with their most treasured belongings.

Working with the military, Porter’s calculations slowly came together but she needed one more datapoint to be confirmed. There were originally fifteen Fulthoom over the Earth when they arrived in 2018. Since then, one new Fulthoom appeared without explanation every year almost a year to the day of the arrival of the last.

If her suspicions held true, a new Fulthoom should be appearing here today.

She had commissioned a pilot several years ago to build a plane of composite materials, using as little metal as possible. When drones with heavy metal content approached any Fulthoom, their electrostatic field would destroy the drone. Only drones made primarily of non-metallic parts could approach with relative safety.

Henrick Davies, a middle-aged plane engineering enthusiast and pilot was only too happy to build her a biplane from composite materials and modern building techniques in order to get closer to the Fulthoom.

He insisted on flying his creation, of course.

Davies came up slowly from behind the leviathan, which had doubled in size since they first arrived all those years ago. Davies took up station directly below the creature less than two hundred feet away. His poly-carbonate propeller wasn't stealth quiet, but far quieter than a biplane had ever been in history. The Fulthoom didn't appear to notice.

Davies spoke into his earpiece to the professor and the ground crew. “He is continuing to slow down after leaving the hurricane. Tracking southward at fifty knots. This is half of his normal cruising speed.”

“And about a quarter of his top speed. Something is amiss. Bring me around to the left wing. Look at the trailers.” The Fulthoom had a ray-like appearance with two, long steel-like cables coming out of the rear of each wing. These varied in length from sixty to two hundred meters depending on the size of the creature. Benedict Arnold’s were nearly one hundred and ninety meters long. Each trailed behind the creature, held out by an incredible musculature. These were also apparently prehensile, able to reach objects and hold on to them. Other Fulthoom had been seen with objects being held, especially during strong tornadoes.

Each of the tendrils held the body of a truck both the rig and the cab, possibly scooped from the ground or an overpass. No one reported the vehicles missing, but that would not be strange considering the severity of the storm. They would have been considered lost.

No one would have imagined they had been plucked into the sky by a Fulthoom.

Benedict Arnold slowed further down to approximately twenty knots. It dangled the trucks behind it, waving them around animatedly.

The clouds in the distant storm parted with a flash of lightning.

“Porter, this is your Eye in the Sky. We have a bogie heading toward you at almost two hundred and fifty knots.”

“Bogie? Can you be a bit more specific?” Porter asked?

“It doesn't show up on radar and if I didn't know any better, I would think it was a Fulthoom. But I cannot maintain a visual lock. It appears and disappears. You should be able to see it shortly. Recommend dropping to a safe altitude.”

“Dropping to four thousand feet. Turning to shadow Benedict Arnold at 187, true. He is holding steady at five thousand feet.”

Eighteen tense minutes pass. “You should be able to see it. Porter. It should be directly aft of you, our shadow drones are already picking up a disturbance in the atmosphere. It is estimated at two hundred knots, flying erratically.”

“I see something, Eye. A flash of silver. Not like any Fulthoom I’ve ever seen. It’s flying fast and coming in from above, has to be maybe seven thousand feet. “

Benedict Arnold began to glow with its defensive electrical field. Davis pushed his stick downward to get out of its range. He was shadowing behind and below Benedict Arnold.

As he dropped further back, the electrical field grew larger. Something could be seen in the electrical discharge. The trucks were disappearing, being consumed by whatever process the Fulthoom used to eat objects plucked up from the ground. Once they were gone, the tendrils began waving behind the creature, creating a whipping and cracking sound.

An electrical discharge appeared between the two tendrils, almost like a B-movie monster set. Starting at the base and progressing toward the ends, the charge grew larger and louder. “I don’t much like the sound of this. I’m getting out of here.”

Porter shouted. “No, stay exactly where you are. Don’t deviate even a little bit. I think we are already in trouble. Look!”

Both of them could see it now. Whatever it was, it wasn't Fulthoom. Like a silver needle, it swooped out of the sky, light flashing off of narrowed wing-like structures tucked back, whatever it was, you could barely see it from the bottom. It was only as it climbed from below and behind them could they see it at all.

It was circling them, pirouetting in the sky until it reached an arc above them. Then like a hawk, it dove directly at them. A sound, like a bass drum sounded in their ears, barely audible, but the sound seemed to strike right at the heart of the plane. The wings began to buckle and the plane felt as if it were being torn apart.

“What is going on down there, Davies?”

“I think we’re under attack!” Davies had to yell over the strange vibration rattling his plane apart.

Then the left wing disappeared. One second it was there and the next it wasn't.

The plane began to tumble from the sky while whatever it was, prepared to make another pass.

Porter was a scientist. Even moments away from the threat of her death, she was looking for answers.

She found what she was looking for as the plane tumbled out of control beneath the great leviathan. The sudden and unexpected crash confirmed it.

She would have been excited beyond measure if she hadn't been crashing onto what appeared to be a possible supper for an invisible and incredibly fast aerial predator.

There was a second Fulthoom hiding, cloaked in the shadow of the first; a child. It was as she suspected, the Fulthoom used the largest annual super-storms to breed.

As the wreckage came to a crumbling halt, dazed, the professor was relieved to find herself still strapped into what was left of the cockpit. The plane had torn apart upon crashing and the front half with Davies in it was about thirty meters in front of her. He looked like hell and was fighting his straps to get out of the cockpit seat.

Porter looked up to see not just one object wheeling about, but a cloud of them, like a school of shiny silvered fish flickering in and out of focus. The implications were staggering. The Fulthoom weren't the only aliens living on or about Earth’s atmousphere. All she had to do was to live long enough to tell someone.

Davies staggered out of the wreckage, managed to get his helmet off and wiped blood off of his face. “Any landing you can walk away from…” was the last thing he said in her earpiece.

He didn't even have time to scream. Each of the silvered objects flashed by him, taking a piece, until he was gone.

Only the spray of blood marked his existence at all.

The shiny silver things vanishing in the distance, were wheeling about for another pass.

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