Please note this is just a fan work. Full credit for this universe and idea go to BlueFishCake.

Your feedback and ideas are very much appreciated, it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything.

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*BAM BAM BAM*

“Hnnnggghhh th-the fuck?”

“Everybody Up! Move Move! Get dressed and to the armoury Now!”

“H-Hey! Does that include me? I’m a civilian!”

“Get fucking dressed and get to the armoury! You got a service number you get a rifle!”

David struggled out of his pyjamas, his sleep fogged mind only just starting to register the dull blaring of the base’s sirens, the sound of dozens of pairs of boots pounding against the pavement outside.

Not having a military uniform to speak of and doubting that his Museum uniform was going to cut it, He thanked his lucky stars he’d kept his re-enactment uniform. Yanking up his wool BD trousers and frantically trying to button up the khaki blouse he swore harshly under his breath, the only weapon in his possession being the WW1 1907 pattern bayonet on his webbing and the entrenching tool.

Finally grabbing the steel helmet and his original gasmask (asbestos filter be damned) he threw himself out the door of his room into the now dark and empty corridor of the SNCO's Barracks and hurtled along its dim length towards the door leading to the outside fire escape.

Just visible from the third-floor landing, dull purple objects were streaking down from the overcast sky, the sounds of pitched fighting from the helicopter pad and flat area on the far side of camp already audible over the trees.

“Shitshitshit!!” storming down the stairs he finally reached the grass, the steel heel plates on his boots rapping a machinegun like staccato beat against the cement pavement as he bolted towards the armoury halfway between the barracks and the sounds of pitched battle on the far side of camp.

A smoking Unimog truck screamed past, turning down the road that led to the main entrance of the Waiouru camp, narrowly avoiding the hapless museum worker as he bolted along the street the first human bodies becoming visible in the road ahead as the armoury vanished in a blossoming orange explosion, bits of weapon, building and staff alike hurtling into the air before gravity worked its horrendous magic and brought them slamming into the ground, the shock wave of the explosion knocking David flat on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs.

“David?! David! Get up boy!” hands grabbed his webbing, hauling him behind one of the low wooden barracks for new recruits. The moustachioed face of the W01 affectionately known to the Mess as Frilly staring down at him, “Fuck you had a close one there lad! Anything broken?”

“N-No I don’t think so, fuck! What’s going on?”

“Welp… how does Martians sound?”

“What?”

“Never mind lad, you know how to work a rifle?”

“Bolt action or semi?”

“Shoulda guessed you’d know both, Here!”

“B-But this isn’t a fucking rifle!”

“Rifle, Gimpy, same difference”

It was at this point that David realised the sounds of battle (as well as the ringing in his ears) had faded almost completely, Frilly handling his own LMG with practised ease despite his torn fatigues.

“Targets?” David asked, knowing better than to ask any more surplus questions in this kind of situation.

“Anything big, and purple”

“Understood”

David nodded, accepting the answer with no vocal complaint, shifting his gaze to the handful of soldiers in various states of dress behind the WO1, counting only about 6 he mentally chided himself for not placing a call to his parents while he was still in his room. Then again, if large purple aliens were landing at Waiouru, then it was more than likely Auckland had already fallen.

“Alright, gentlemen” murmured Frilly, turning to the rest of the group huddled against the buildings wall, “Hands up those who want to make a break for the bush?”

Three hands went up, David keeping his hand down, knowing that his lack of bush skills would simply make him a burden to the actually trained soldiers.

“Right, start going now, there should be full packs ready at the officers' mess, the rest of you, we’re playing distraction”

The two groups nodded, the three soldiers turning and scuttling away, keeping their heads down as they made their way around the corner of the barracks and out of sight.

In the silence that followed David strained his ears to hear anything above the cold wind blowing off the mountain, his heart clenching in his chest as he felt more than heard the distinct thud of something heavy, far heavier than a human falling in a series of footsteps in the road.

Frilly silently turned, gesturing for the group to shuffle back, behind the head height, decidedly flimsy wooden fence. The steps of what could only be some kind of mech thudded past, the sounds of heavy boots accompanying it past the fence.

Desperately trying to keep his breathing quiet David risked looking up, the top of the strange vehicle just visible over the fence as it passed their position.

Using more hand gestures Frilly silently ordered the group back, moving as silently as possible around the back of the barracks in order to get to the side road, overlooking the main crossroads inside camp.

Hissing through his teeth David cursed the soft rattling of the ammunition belt for the machine gun in his hands, the weight unfamiliar even for someone with a wealth of historical firearms experience.

They managed to round the corner just as the aliens reached the crossroads, Frilly diving behind a tree and gesturing for the rest of them to take up positions in what little cover there was available.

Ducking into the doorway at the end of the barracks room David tried to make himself as small as possible, painfully aware of how at odds his heavy khaki wool Battledress was with the dull flowing camouflage patterns of the soldiers around him, as well as the infinitely better protection they had with their vests as opposed to the mere fabric between him and whatever those strange weapons fired.

“DROP ‘EM!” boomed Frilly, his rifle opening up in the familiar rapid beat as the rest joined in. unable to brace his weapon on the ground David paused only a second before joining in, fighting to keep the weapon aimed on the nearest of the creatures, his aim on point as the figure jolted, bullets clearly impacting on its armour, a shrill cry splitting the air as it dropped, blue liquid spurting from its leg as it tumbled, its comrades diving for non-existent cover, their strange mech turning and opening up on their position, Frilly and another soldier vanishing in a brilliant flash, the tree they were hiding behind disappearing too as the other two soldiers yelped.

Breaking from her cover behind one of the sandbag walls, one of the soldiers shoved past him into the building itself, the other trying to do the same but letting out a gurgling scream as he was hit, a hole seemingly melting in his side.

“Fucking move!” the woman grabbed him by the collar, hauling him into the building hurling herself down the corridor towards the other end of the building only to stumble to a halt as the shadow of the mech, moving impossibly fast appeared in the doorway.

“Fuck! Give it all!” the soldier panted, shouldering her rifle as David hefted his weapon, about half a belt of ammunition left as he aimed down the corridor they’d just followed. Kicking the nearest door to try and give himself at least the pretence of protection. The decrepit wood of the door easily flew open allowing him to have a modicum of cover rather than stand in the hallway, just in time as a dark, helmeted head peered round the doorway. Rather than waste what little ammunition he had, David waited, his comrade screaming viciously as she emptied her magazine at the seemingly impenetrable armour of the mech-exo thingy, ignoring the corridor behind her, with the inevitable result, a beam between her shoulder blades cutting her down.

His breath reduced to short choppy gasps David waited several seconds before biting his lip, saying a silent prayer under his breath as he cast his eyes heavenward and hoisted the weapon, aiming it around the corner of the door and emptying the rest of the belt towards it, hoping he hit something as he pulled the hundred year old bayonet from its sheath.

Not bothering to check his surroundings he pulled out the black filtered gasmask, tugging of his helmet off to quickly slip it over his head, may as well give those bastards a physical reason to pause even if only for a moment.

Mask and helmet secured as best he could he scooped up the bayonet, stumbled to his feet and stepped into the hallway. Sure enough, the column of four aliens advancing along the hall stopped dead in their tracks. Not wanting to lose his advantage, David channelled his former Krav Maga instructor’s words on intimidation and let loose a feral ragged cry, his throat straining as he surged towards them, bayonet held close to his body as he closed the distance.

The force of his body hitting the wall of muscle and armour felt like running full belt at a steam train but David was too hyped on adrenaline to worry about such things, one hand attempting to redirect the barrel of the creatures own weapon as the bayonet stabbed like a shiv in rapid motions, the first three blows slamming against hard ceramic armour, the fourth skittering of the edge and biting into dense muscular flesh, the creature letting out a muffled howl as David, remembering one other lesson in aggressive self-defence through his own hazy mind sunk his teeth into the creatures arm, gripping on like a ferret as the arm holding the bayonet continued his automatic backwards and forwards motion, until suddenly, with no warning or reason, the world and its whirlwind of colour and sound went completely black.

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“Fuck my life”

David groaned as he lay somewhere between sleep and full consciousness, the dreaded sound of his phone alarm ringing through the small room he had in the SNCO Barracks.

Swivelling his feet from under the covers and standing up he switched on the lights before finally opening his phone and switching off the alarm.

Opening his curtains he glared down at the formation of Shil’vati marines parading on the grass outside. Curling his lip in disdain he turned from the window. “May as well tease them and get a few of them in trouble,” he thought to himself before shucking off his shirt in front of the window, bending out of sight to open a drawer and pull out his favourite t-shirt, the back taken up with the “crown unbroken” crest of the lion and unicorn facing away from each other and pulled it on, careful not to let them see the back. Glancing down he was gratified to see several of the rowdy females staring up at him, their expression ranging from open lust to resigned interest. Unfortunately for the starers, their sergeant, an experienced woman who was surprisingly pleasant company in the mess and who took avid part in the quiz nights, was already zeroing in on them, her mouth opening to haul them back to earth.

Chuckling to himself David stepped back from the window and busied himself with getting dressed in his black museum uniform, doing up his shirt and belt, equipping the almost mandatory can of mace on his belt and pulling on his duffle jacket and he hefted his bag with his laptop and paperwork.

Managing to make it as far as the door he let out a curse as a thought flashed across his mind, tugging out the purple armband he’d been issued upon temporary release from the POW containment centre. The band marked him as working alongside government forces, theoretically marking him as safe from overt harassment.

Waiouru may be almost empty of human soldiers now, but its ideal terrain and position on the main state highway north and south of the North Island of New Zealand meant there was a considerable garrison stationed there.

This created two problems:

One, a lot more pushy females to avoid especially if trying to get a drink in the mess with the handful of older New Zealand army sergeants and civilians who were still there.

Two: due to its remoteness there were only three activities anyone, Human or Shil’vati alike could do. Drink, train or go to the National Army Museum down by the highway. This was a problem because not only was that where David worked, but he also, at 25, happened to be one of the younger male employees with only one other called Carl being even close to his age, the rest being considerably older. This made him and Carl highly appealing targets for bored and horny marines and Carl’s insistence on growing a beard made David the more desired of the two. Hence the mace.

Padding down the fire escape to begin the 20 minute walk through camp towards the museum, he took a deep breath of the heavy winter air, the wind biting through his coat as he gritted his teeth, striding across the grass towards the road, following his now traditional winding route, timed both at start and end of day to avoid the worst of the Shil’vati foot traffic.

As he left the perimeter of the camp and started down the final leg past the old camp supply railway platform (unused since the second world war) he spied William one of the other (and considerably older) visitor hosts from the museum waiting for him, a habit they’d had since starting at the museum shortly before the invasion.

The walk down to the museum took a decidedly lighter tone at that point, the two sharing humorous news and gossip as they walked down the road, quoting Monty Python and updating each other on their own situations as they swiped themselves through the heavy security door and into the museum to begin the unlocking process.

Rolling his eyes David left Gary do the unlocking of the museum’s main building, turning his steps towards the security office, checking himself in with the stern Shil’vati sergeant manning the cameras and having his pass updated.

Thanks to his actions during the invasion he trod a fine line between a dangerous civilian and a prisoner of war, meaning that in their attempts to make the invasion seem as peaceful as possible he was allowed to continue working at the National Army Museum. This deal however can with the price of having to have his pass updated daily, whether it was his day off or not, in order to ensure he stayed in Waiouru.

The Shil’vati Interior officer who had presented him with the deal made it very clear that his cooperation did not just affect him but also his colleagues and his parents up in Auckland. Should he disappear, they would face consequences.

Waving him on his way the sergeant turned back to her work while David simply nodded, trying to pretend he couldn’t feel her eyes on his ass as he made his way across the café to the main museum building.

As much as he hated being effectively tagged like an animal he was painfully aware that he had a duty to those around him, especially to the school children still coming through the museum, to distract them from the strange world they now lived in and to remind them of the lessons of history, their history.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that anything of note happened, one school had been successfully toured, a high school, and David had to pretend he didn’t notice the difference in attitude and depressed demeanour in students he’d seen before the invasion.

The invasion had been so swift and the New Zealand Defence Force so poorly equipped the country had been fully occupied by the end of the first day, the Prime minister offering no resistance and ordering a fully surrender within hours.

Unfortunately for her she had been swiftly executed by a member of the SAS for her treachery leaving New Zealand temporarily lead by the Governor-General, answering not only to her Royal Majesty but also to the general in charge of the invasion forces.

As it was, resistance was rare, but devastating, much of the SAS having managed to escape into the deep bush around the country and blending in with the local population wherever possible. The few times they did attack it was in carefully coordinated attacks which one more than one occasion had left the invading forces reeling in surprise. As a consequence the police had been forcibly disbanded and replaced with Shil’vati militia, the government being whittled down as the democratic process was rapidly being phased out. The Queen had been removed as head of state which had resulted in a massive backlash, monarchist numbers souring as protests became an almost daily occurrence in the cities resulting in curfews and a flood of civilians into the rural areas, further increasing tensions.

During all this upheaval David simply had to grit his teeth, square his shoulders and keep in contact with his family as best he could, his father having been the Auckland’s CBD during the initial invasion and presently under investigation along with other human software developers by the Interior.

It was during his floor shift, silently walking around the museum to keep an eye on customers and make sure any questions, or emergencies were answered, that David noticed something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A Shil’vati officer, the museum head curator and several official looking Shil’vati females were wandering through the museum, pointing at various objects while the head curator wore an anguished expression, his hands gesticulating wildly as he kept his voice low.

Moving slowly and casually, pretending to be in his own little world David managed to snatch a small part of conversation:

“…ut you can’t! Th-these artefacts are our heritage!”

“They, like you, are property of the empress!”

“B-but they belong to the peo…”

Struggling to maintain a bored expression David carefully headed away from the group, waiting until they were out of sight before hurrying to the visitor hosts’ shared office.

“Guys!” he hissed through his teeth, instantly getting the attention of the four people in the office, “There’s a bloody Rupert here picking out artefacts!”

Eyes widened around the room as the group absorbed this information, mouths opening in horror at what this could suggest.

Everyone knew very well that the governess of New Zealand was no more or less corrupt and nepotistic than the rest of the empire, if that officer came from a suitably high enough noble house, she could take whatever she wanted and not even a national governess could do squat to stop her.

They were still wondering what they could possibly do when their radios crackled, “Delta Bravo” the voice of the museum director called David’s code name (a pre-invasion security measure) “Can you come to the Senior Management Team Office?”

Staring nervously at the wide eyes of his colleagues David tugged free his radio and clicked it on, “Roger that, on way.”

“Well fuck” he muttered, his co workers not saying a word as he turned, swiping open the office door and climbing up the secure stairwell to the senior office.

Stepping inside he hazarded a quick glance around the room. Most of the desks were empty, the senior staff having either left or “no longer being required” for the museum to run under the new regime, the only humans present were the Director and the Head Curator, both standing behind the director’s desk while the officer from earlier and Klora D’Karta the Shil’vati woman assigned as the Museum’s “supervisor” both stood in front of the desk.

“Ah…um David, this is General Dnorma Thakniss” the Director introduced the woman shakily. “Sh-She is here as a representative of a high profile…p-project to create a museum of “Human Military History” on Shil their.. I mean the Empress’ homeworld.” The woman paused, clearly disturbed by whatever information she had to impart. “D-due to their monitoring of our education programmes and public tours, b-both pre and post-inva… I mean arrival, um… She has come to retrieve key artefacts to become New Zealand’s contribution to the museum a-as well as one staff member who is… ideal for such a posting”

As the implications of the woman’s words slowly sank in, David ‘s brain almost short-circuited completely, excitement at traveling the stars, terror of a foreign planet, fear for his family if word of this got out to the public, his passion for teaching and the opportunities afforded to teaching a whole new race about the complexities of Human political and military history…

He was brought back to earth abruptly as his gaze landed on the General, specifically the large predatory grin she was wearing as she slowly, almost lazily eyed him up and down like a rotisserie chicken on a spit.

“You’ll be managing the collection of artefacts from New Zealand when we meet up with the rest of the planet’s contributions and delegates, you will all work together to build a comprehensive and interactive learning centre on Shiva in order to prepare the empire’s population for your assimilation once it is deemed safe” the general drawls as she saunters forward, her hips swaying far more than was necessary as she loomed over him.

“I trust you will ensure “everything” is done to satisfactory standard”