Double Agent Armbie of Proxima b

A Plan of Attack

I remember the landing. Standing by the large rectangular windows of my arrival ship, I couldn't resist pressing my face against the cool glass to catch a glimpse of the planet Earth. It was nothing like Proxima b. Its luscious blues and greens amazed me. I had never seen an ocean before. The last of Proxima's oceans were well and truly gone by the time I had been born, so I was excited. The first thing that I planned to do when I landed was to find myself an ocean and stare. I'm good at staring, at watching. It's my job now, to watch.

I sit in the dingy underground bunker that belongs to the earthling terrorist group; 'The Survival of Mankind'. I'm a member, actually. A double agent. I sit here, and I watch them. That's what I've been doing since I landed two years ago. Watching.

I still haven't seen an ocean up close. As soon as we landed I was given my assignment by my true operative (the PPP); to watch. To infiltrate the terrorist group - The Survival of Mankind. I complied with my mission of course. I had no other choice. As a proximan, that is what I came to Earth to do. After high school on Proxima b, I decided that I wanted to travel. But I didn't want to travel my world. I already knew what there was to see; barren wasteland, barren wasteland, a semi-barren wasteland, and oh! Another barren wasteland.

Don't be mistaken, I love Proxima b and my people, but the me two years ago wanted to know what life was like on a planet that actually seemed alive. And when I heard that they were looking for high school graduates to go to Earth, I jumped right at the opportunity, even if the opportunity was purely just to infiltrate different human terrorist groups to keep Earth safe. I didn't care.

I care now though. I still haven't seen an ocean up close. I've been stuck underground in this horrid bunker since I've landed, going by the name Abby, the human equivalent of my proximan name, Armbie. I've been forced to hang around these three bums that call themselves terrorists. They still have no idea that I'm a proximan myself. But even if they found out, I doubt any of them would be able to shoot me. All three of them, Justin, Penelope, and Evan are just spineless, high-school-drop-outs in their early twenties who enjoy crapping on about proximans.

Or so that's what I thought.

Justin walks over to me from the far side of the bunker to join me at the only table we have. Across the wobbly, metal foldout table, he sprawls some diagrams open for me to see. He wears the biggest smile as he begins to explain what it is that he's showing me. "I've finally done it, Abby," he says.

"Done what?" I ask in a not-at-all impressed tone.

"The designs. They're complete! The plans too!" He grabs something from the ground, then presents it to me. More papers. With the flickering glow of the single lightbulb above, I struggle to read what they say.

"Plans?" I ask, waving the papers around before throwing them back at him. "What sort of plans?"

The papers scatter only a little as they land in front of him. Grabbing the papers, Justin stands up from the table. "Plans for our first attack!" he announces proudly. "Nellie and Evan are out getting the supplies now so that we can all start making the bombs when they get back."

Bombs? Attack? No way. I didn't think that they had it in them. Finally, my being here has purpose. I have to report back to the PPP. I have to tell them that there's action in my assigned group. "Well that's," I begin, having to do some real acting now, "great news. I was starting to think that you guys would never carry through with all of your talk about justice."

"And revenge," Justin says, taking my hand and leading me out of my seat. Subtly, he pulls me a little closer. Not this again. "Maybe once we've made our point, once we've let the bombs go off, you and I-"

"Fat chance," I say, pulling away. "You know that I have a thing for Evan." (I don't).

"And he's going out with Nellie so it looks like you're the one with the fat chance," he says, defensive from me shooting him down. This happens almost every other day with him.

"So when is it, anyway?" I ask.

"We make the bombs tonight, plant them tomorrow, then blow them up the morning after."

"Where?"

"The new stadium that they've been building for the Proximalympics," Justin answers, proud of the event decided upon.

The Proximalympics? Why? Out of all of the events that he could have chosen, Justin just so happened to pick the biggest and most significant one in human and proximan history. The first ever Proximalympics. A mixture of Proxima b's Proximathletics, and Earth's Olympics. The Proximalympics are a symbol of peace between our people. Yes, we are competing against each other, but we are competing in the same competition. I really wanted to be able to watch the Proxymalympics, especially the water events. How good could someone who has never seen water get at swimming in two years? That's what I want to know. Maybe one day I could compete in the Proxymalympics in competitive swimming.

Maybe. But maybe not if Justin actually manages to launch a successful terrorist attack on the first Proxymalympics in history. "Don't you think that we should leave an attack on an event of that scale to some of the higher-up groups?"

"Why should we?" he says, not as bubbly as he was before I rejected him.

"Well-"

The hatch that acts as the bunker's exit and entrance creaks open. "We're back!" Penelope calls, descending the ladder into the bunker.

"And we brought bomb supplies!" Evan shouts from above her. Once they make it into the bunker, I notice how animated they both look. They have purpose. And they look so alive now that they do. It's a shame they can't find purpose in something more, I don't know, not murder-y.

The four of us pull an all-nighter, creating the bombs from Justin's designs. We make four in total, one for each of us to take care of tomorrow night when we plant them at the stadium. The first chance I get, I'm going to notify PPP about the attack, and they better take it seriously, because even though The Survival of Mankind has always been a group of little threat, they're not kidding around this time.

As I'm closing my eyes on my roll out mattress to find sleep, I notice Justin still working away on something. "Hey, Justin." He looks over at me. "What are you working on?"

"Oh," he says, looking back at his project. "Nothing."