Part XXI, XXII, XXIII

XXI.

    The morning of September 20th, the visitors to the Great Wall of China at the Badaling tourist center had already begun their assault on the open portions of the monument.  Families took pictures with their kids against unsightly backdrops of thousand year old bricks.  Conversations carried along the cool breeze mixing the different languages and dialects into a shuffled murmur.  The landscape was picturesque as tourists both local and foreign marveled at this wonder of the world.  
    A low drone of a buzzing filled the air.  The deep bass kind you feel in your chest and makes your teeth vibrate.  It wasn't loud but was soon joined by a higher pitched whine and the pair harmonized quite nicely.  It grew louder though was still fairly soothing to listen to.  The tourists at Badaling were the lucky recipients of the first sighting of the galactic Greyhound as it flew in from the south and slowly cruised along the wall.   Foreign tourists raced along the wall trying to keep up with it, shooting pictures and video with their cell phones.  The Chinese people were observed as largely indifferent.  A few snapped photos with their children but generally remained calm and composed.  The craft moved along the wall for approximately 10 minutes, turned around, and moved back allowing the other side of the ship ample time to observe.  The aliens that were blurry and distant when they were filmed in space were now being seen more clearly.  The visitors varied widely in a range of muted oranges, blues, greens, and reds.  Their faces were remarkably humanoid in practicality with two eyes, nose, ears, and mouth however a lack of proportionality did not allow for a favorable appearance by societal standards.  They were ugly.  Not the cutesy little green men or hot alien chicks of science fiction but real life, butt ugly extraterrestrials reminiscent of a Tim Burton live action nightmare.  It was a financially retired middle aged woman that whispered to her husband as he was filming, "You would think they would have discovered plastic surgery by now."
    It was an unexpectedly uneventful first encounter by all definitions.  The Chinese, even with their military on full alert, never fired a shot.  The Egyptians did.

XXII.

    The mid afternoon sun beat down on the desert outside of Giza, Egypt.  The village of Naziet al-Samman sat at the foot of the Great Pyramids with a steady hum of traffic flowing through the streets passing around the ancient structures.  The crowd visiting the pyramids was more sparse than usual due to the weather although many avid explorers still braved the temperatures to stand among the ruins.  
    While news of the spaceship had reached most of the globe, many nations including Egypt had only taken slight precautions due to the presence of a single ship.  There were no armadas, motherships releasing hordes of invaders, or bombers reigning destruction on key global infrastructure.  One ship.  Still though, as in the case of the Egyptian government, troops had been sent to increase security around the country, including the Great Pyramids.
    One of the troops, a Corporal was standing his post out along the western edge of the site between the western cemetery and the builder's quarters.  He wasn't actually standing his post.  He was sitting in a chair, feet propped on another, with his head tilted back snoring inside of a makeshift canopy, out of the sun.  His AK-47 had fallen by his side and flies circled above his head, getting drunk from the stench of alcohol coming off his breath.  There was little that would wake this soldier as he slept.  The low rumbling certainly didn't nor did the higher pitched whine that soon after accompanied it.  The shadow of the craft passing over his position failed as well as the dust that was beginning to kick up.  The exhaust from the massive rear engines propelling the ship slowly forward did however.  The sudden gale blew the canopy off its tethers and the soldier tipped over in his chair in shock.  Instead of reaching for his AK, he picked up a RPG, turned to face the ship, and fired.
    It was the moment after he pulled the trigger that the soldier knew he had made a mistake.  In the two seconds it took for the warhead to reach it's target, he had thought up excuses for why he fired, how foolish he would look to his counterparts, and if his dad still had the job in Cairo for him.  He watched in agony as the warhead streaked its way towards the ship.  It slammed into the hull and although it was a dud and caused no damage, the soldier never saw.  He was passed out on the ground by the time it hit.

XXIII.

    The sun had begun its descent to the horizon over Italy as many people were leaving their jobs for the day.  There was one place however, that was still buzzing with activity.  The Vatican was beside itself.  The Catholic church had come to a halt within the last 24 hours as cardinals looked to the Pope for answers on how to explain this spaceship making its way around the world.  The whole of St. Peter's Square hummed with frantic voices and quickened footsteps in a sea of colorful robes flashing across the courtyard.
    Like a director calling cut during a scene in Hollywood, everyone stopped in their tracks and fell silent as the low drone filled the air.  The spaceship flew over Vatican City, slowed, circled around, then continued on its course.  Everyone stood, the realization hitting harder than a door slammed shut.  At last, a voice came over the crowd, "Well, s**t..."