The Alien Pet Expedition

Chapter 13: The Diplomatic Disaster

The following afternoon, the Las Cruces Middle School football field was packed. It was the annual "Spirit Rally," an event Zax described as "a massive gathering of primates engaging in loud, coordinated synchronization for no logical reason."

Leo was forced to bring his "pets" along, as leaving them alone was now impossible with Sterling prowling the neighborhood. Zax was shoved into a sports bag, and Pip was wearing a small, humiliating bandana that Leo had insisted would help them blend in.

"I am a decorated officer of the High Orbit Collective," Zax grumbled from inside the bag. "I am not a fan accessory."

"Shh!" Leo whispered, looking around. He spotted Sterling in the bleachers, scanning the crowd with a pair of professional-grade thermal goggles.

Suddenly, the sky above the field turned a brilliant, shimmering shade of gold. A sleek, needle-thin ship—far more elegant than the trash-collecting behemoth from the night before—descended toward the 50-yard line. The music at the rally cut out instantly.

"Finally!" Pip yipped, nearly tearing his bandana off. "The Diplomatic Courier! That’s a high-priority vessel. They must have escalated our priority status!"

The ship landed with a soft hiss, and a ramp extended. The entire student body stood in stunned silence as a robotic drone rolled out, projecting a hologram of an alien dignitary. The drone’s sensors immediately swept the field.

"Target identified," the drone chirped. It locked onto Zax and Pip, who were trying to scramble out of the bag and the crowd.

"We are here!" Zax shouted, forgetting all protocol and standing on his hind legs. "Extract us immediately! We have been stranded for cycles!"

The drone scanned them, processed the data for exactly five seconds, and then its light turned red. "Local wildlife detected. Subject behavior classified as 'erratic, domestic nuisance.' Potential threat to diplomatic decorum. Engaging departure protocols."

"Wait!" Pip barked, chasing after the drone. "We aren't wildlife! We are your colleagues!"

The drone didn't listen. It retracted its ramp, and the ship hovered, its engines creating a massive wind tunnel that sent pom-poms, programs, and hats flying into the air. In exactly five minutes, the ship vanished into the clouds, leaving the entire football team standing in the dirt, staring at the two "pets" who were currently vibrating with rage.

Sterling, standing in the front row of the bleachers, dropped his thermal goggles. "Wildlife? That’s what they called them?"

Zax sat in the middle of the 50-yard line, his ears drooping, while a golden retriever—the school mascot—trotted over to sniff him.

"I hate this planet," Zax said, his voice flat. "I genuinely, truly hate this planet."

Leo rushed onto the field, scooping them both up. "We need to go. Now!"

"Forget the Collective," Zax muttered, looking up at the sky. "They are run by complete, unadulterated simpletons."