All of NASA’s brightest scientists were squished together like sardines in a can, shoving each other out of the way to get a look at one desktop computer. Charlene’s. Since being hired, Charlene had been NASA’s most driven expert on the exoplanet exploration mission. She was convinced that there had to be life somewhere other than Earth, and now, with a gargantuan silver spaceship on her laptop, live feed from the Nebula-7’s telescope, it was hard for anyone to disagree.

            “Now,” she said. “Chances are, whatever was on this vessel is already dead. But just in case, I’ve tapped into the radio frequency on board the ship.”

            Dave, who had slept with Charlene three and a half times, sipped a coffee behind her. “You already established a connection?”

            “It’s still processing. Ninety-five percent complete.”

            “This is insane,” someone in the back said. “This is just insane!”

            The room smelled like sweaty cotton dress clothes and coffee—like history in the making. The fluorescent light overhead painted Charlene’s computer screen with a frosty white glare at the top, adding a slight fogginess to the picture that everyone was so desperate to look at.

            “Processing complete!” Charlene announced.

            Dave started to clap, and then one of his colleagues reminded him that they were trying to hear the radio frequency: “Enough with the clapping, dumbass!”

            The radio frequency came in, and Charlene and the rest of them were stunned to hear what sounded like a staccato bumblebee, or perhaps two staccato bumblebees, with one buzz deeper than the other. It wasn’t anything like English, but what they were listening to was unmistakable.

            “There’s life!” Charlene shouted, her eyes watering over, her hands over her head. “There’s really life!”

* * *

            Hundreds of thousands of miles away, two aliens whose names roughly translate in English to 76798 and Qwerkkkkkkk, respectively, were having an argument. They were from planet Deltron 3000 in the Andromeda Galaxy, and they were about 3,000 feet tall. Their heads were like big blue lightbulbs, and they had four arms each.

            76798 said, roughly, “I just don’t see why you’re not in the mood for a gas planet today. We haven’t had gas since last week!”

            “It’s all you ever want,” Qwerkkkkkkk said, and then proceeded to impersonate her partner’s voice in a way that suggested he was a moron: “OH, honey, we should have a GAS planet tonight!”

            “Gas planets are the best!”

            “They aren’t healthy. Do you remember my Uncle Quackkkkkkk?”

            “Oh god, not this again—

            “Quackkkkkkk had a problem! He couldn’t stop eating gas planets! He died before he could even snack on Jupiter!”

            The two aliens’ spaceship was parked at a vantage point in the Milky Way. Its beams could be used to absorb a planet’s nutrients so long as they were pointed directly at the planet, even if it was far away. At the moment, they had the spaceship parked so that it was angled directly at two different planets—a gassy planet called Klextor, and Earth.

* * *

            Back at NASA, the scientists behind Charlene were jumping around like jelly beans in a blender while they listened to the aliens.

            The NASA administrator himself had come down to their floor to make his important phone call to the president of the United States. He had the phone already by his ear, and at this point the alien buzzing had gotten pretty repetitive—maybe even frustrating, since they had no way of ever finding out what was being said—so the scientists in the room were more than happy to shift their attention to the historical phone call that was about to take place.

            “Mr. President,” the administrator said. “I have some news for you. And it is, in fact, the biggest news in the history of humanity.”

            Charlene felt goosebumps go up her arms when she heard him say it. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Her name would be remembered forever.

            The administrator relayed the news to the president, and then said, “I understand, sir. Everyone here will be happy to hear it.”

            When he got off the phone, Charlene said, “Well?”

            “The president said it’s a green light. Send them the radio signals!”

* * *

            Although the aliens were huge, they could still move around—their ship was scaled perfectly for their 3000 feet tall statures. 76798 was so determined not to eat Earth—he hated the taste of salt water—that he decided it was time to go on what he liked to call a complete rampage. He stomped down the halls to what Earthlings might best understand as their bedroom, slammed the door, and started throwing things around. Glass orbs that shone like lamps—they shattered into pieces, spilling their phosphorous light everywhere. A framed holographic video of him and Qwerkkkkkkk enjoying a vacation in the Triangulum Galaxy, the blue and green sunset behind them—he crushed the frame under his foot, and the images of their smiles faded away in electric sputters and yellow sparks. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t like he always chose what they ate for dinner. In fact, Qwerkkkkkkk was usually the one who chose, so it wouldn’t hurt her if this one fucking time she just let him eat what he wanted to, even if gas wasn’t healthy, because for once he just wanted to enjoy a good meal, just wanted to spend a night belching up what used to be a planet’s atmosphere. 76798 was so angry that his big blue head was sweating, and he began to feel dizzy, until he remembered that day in the hospital. Qwerkkkkkkk’s teary black eyes the day Uncle Quackkkkkkk died, the way her shoulders drooped, the warmth of her big blue face against his big blue shoulder, and how he hoped that she never had to feel like that again. The doctor had come in to tell them it was the gas planets that did him in.  

            76798 looked at the broken hologram regretfully. He knew she was just trying to keep him safe. And he had gotten so angry that he had given himself a headache. He walked back out to the control room.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. We should eat Earth tonight.”

            Qwerkkkkkkk smiled. 

            “Thank god,” she said. “They won’t stop sending these stupid radio signals.”

            76798 laughed when he heard the signals. “They sound so funny,” he said.

            “Agreed.”

            “I love you, Qwerkkkkkkk.”

            “Let’s eat Earth.”

* * *

            Back at NASA, the room was packed full of scientists popping bottles of champagne. Dave gave Charlene a huge hug, and she gave him a subtle kiss on the cheek when nobody was looking.

            “Uh-oh,” Dave said. “Tonight I’m definitely staying at your place.”

            “Definitely,” Charlene said with a smile. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

* * *

            The aliens ate Earth.

Drew James lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where he was born, and is yet to accomplish anything at all. He graduated from UNC Greensboro, and his GPA was too low to apply to MFA programs, so now he apparently writes about planet-eating aliens. He also has a story (about some camels) published in Lucent Dreaming.