A Nougat in the Receiver

The first snow had just fallen. In the Pine Hill neighborhood of Boston, the front door of a flower shop—closed for six months—creaked open. It was a quarter past six in the evening, and the wind was howling.

Kael Dawson pushed his way inside. He had only just moved back, and the old neighbors were giving him strange looks. Four arms extended from the sleeves of his leather jacket, and a pair of antennae atop his head flickered with a faint green glow. His knuckles turned white around the grip of his photon blaster as he kept a watchful eye on the room's occupants.

The edge of the wooden counter was worn smooth from years of leaning elbows. Mira Sinclair leaned against it from behind. She was a fifty-one-year-old night-shift nurse. The two of them had not spoken alone in three years; she owed him an explanation.

Martha Lind was there as well. The thirty-two-year-old temporary clerk was busy packing up her things, the sole mutual connection they both still maintained. Beside her rested a cardboard box sealed with a double layer of packing tape, a half-empty bottle of prescription medicine with its label torn off, and a stopped wristwatch hanging on the wall.

Martha looked up and spotted Kael. Her eyes lit up, and she slapped him playfully on his third arm—the lower one on his left side—with a laugh. “Kael, that Halloween costume is way too real! The antennae actually light up? Where’d you buy that?”

Without waiting for an answer, Martha reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of peanut nougat, and dropped it straight into the foreign sensor vessel Kael held in his hand.

Kael froze on the spot, all four arms stiffening in place.

He dared not move a muscle. The language was incomprehensible; he was inside enemy territory.

Suddenly, the sensor vessel let out a shrill beep, its screen flashing a blinding red. Text scrambled across the display: HIGH-PURITY ENERGY ORE DETECTED. CONTAINS POTENT DOPAMINE INITIATOR.

Kael felt a jolt of pure astonishment.

He had assumed this reconnaissance mission meant near-certain death, yet this frail native female, upon their very first encounter, had offered him such a sacred substance. It was a tribute of the highest order.

He stared down at the wrapped square of peanut nougat resting inside his vessel, his heart pounding with overwhelming excitement. The social laws of this planet were remarkably simple: one merely had to stand still, and the natives would present the supreme energy required to sustain the fleet.

From behind the counter, Mira watched him coldly, silent. The stopped wristwatch gave a faint click, like a trick of the ear.

With an expression of utmost gravity, Kael slowly raised his primary and secondary right hands, offering Martha the highest military salute of Centauri. He pressed the broadcast button on his wide-area radio and transmitted a encrypted flash to the mothership: “Target confirmed. The inhabitants are distributing energy blocks free of charge. Requesting immediate full-scale landing.”

Later that night, the snowstorm intensified.

Before long, the door rattled open. A dozen Centauri warriors filed into the shop in single file. Every one of them possessed four arms, green skin, and a pair of antennae glowing brightly atop their heads.

Mira didn't even raise an eyelid as she tossed the half-empty, unlabelled pill bottle onto the counter.

The warriors formed a strict line, hands resting on their sidearms, radiating an aura of lethal intent.

Kael pointed to the alien service medal pinned to his chest and spoke in a deep, solemn voice. “This is the rite of Energy Solicitation. We must address them with absolute sternness to project the full majesty of our force.”

The warriors nodded in understanding. Their squad leader took a heavy step forward, slammed his fist onto the counter, and thundered in a voice like a heavy bell: “Surrender your confections, or we shall vaporize your world!”

Martha’s face lit up with delight. She turned to Mira and said, “Man, these college cosplayers really commit to the bit this year!”

With that, she reached into the double-taped cardboard box, pulled out a handful of chocolates, and tossed them into the pumpkin pails carried by the warriors.

The soldiers gasped in shock. Hurriedly bringing the pails up to their chests, they bowed their heads in solemn gratitude.

A few neighbors passing outside the shop caught sight of the scene and chuckled, throwing in several more pieces of candy.

The warriors cheered softly, their mission accomplished with great honor, and prepared to withdraw.

Kael stood out in the swirling snow. Seeing the pails filled to the brim with high-density energy, his mind was completely settled.

He carried his pumpkin pail and walked through the snow, the streetlights stretching the long shadows of his four arms across the white ground.

Martha beamed, turning to Mira. "This year's role-playing college kids are really selling it." Reaching into the twice-taped cardboard box, she tossed handfuls of chocolate into the warriors' pumpkin pails.

The warriors stiffened, clutching their buckets to their chests with ceremonial reverence. Passersby chuckled at the display and tossed in more candy. With a final cheer, the troop retreated through the thickening snow, their mission accomplished.

Kael stood motionless, watching the last energy readings stabilize. His shadow—stretched long and four-armed by the streetlights—moved first, then his boots crunched forward through fresh powder.

By 6:15 PM, the blizzard had swallowed Pine Hill whole. The flower shop's door—closed for six months—swung open. Kael Dawson took his place behind the counter, its edge worn smooth by elbows. A stopped wristwatch and the half-empty, label-less bottle waited exactly where he'd left them.

Mira Sinclair leaned in the doorway, massaging her temples. "Why draw swords when this planet practically pumps energy into our hands?" she scoffed. Above them, hidden ships drank greedily from the beams of light as warriors emptied chocolate into converters. Gauges flashed crimson—full capacity.

The commander barked orders: Abandon invasion protocols. Return annually for this "energy harvesting ritual." The sky split with prismatic light, leaving only pumpkin pails scattered across snow.

Martha Lind stepped outside, exhaling a cloud of breath. She plucked the last bucket from the drift and perched it atop her head like a crown.