[ WP ] In the year 2015 A.D. , an alien space ship lands in Europe . Out from the ship comes Neanderthals .

Upon the first sun ray striking the mountain peaks, there streaks an orb of white across the pearly sky. It moves as if detached from reality, shifting downwards to the valley to land. Not a sound came from it throughout its descent. 
 Farmers and croppers noticed something was wrong when the only action their animals displayed was that of restlessness and frustration. But even they knew something felt wrong. The very air was two degrees from being oppressive. Nothing felt like it was in the right place. 
 
 Radars across the continent had picked up the mile-wide ship ever since it entered the atmosphere, but that it landed in a remote mountainous region in Bavaria rather than one of the capitals drew questions. World governments are contacted all at once, and military forces scramble. What the movies always portrayed was never true. If aliens had come to this planet in the name of conquest, we do n't stand a chance— but that does n't mean we will go quietly. 
 
 Units rush to the front and aim their weapons. Officials in medal-infested suits stand in a line, hands clasped behind their back. 
 
 The door falls. Every finger twitches. The beat of helicopters has become an unbearable cacophony. 
 
 A foot clinks on a descending ramp. Another, and another. All eyes rise to meet the alien's. But it does n't look like an alien; at least, not like an alien they ever expected to meet. He is male, clearly, and he wears his clothes like his hair— well streamed, clean, and sharp. His face was lean, set with a large nose, puffed cheeks, and thin eyes under a prominent brow, all of this under a bulbous head wearing a headset that glowed a neon aquamarine. 
 
 An American yells, `` Defensive positions, 2-3-5-2, do not fire unless given the order!'' 
 His barks echoed into the dawn. They could hear the sweat falling off of each others' faces. 
 
 `` God damn... They look like us.'' 
 
 The alien turned directly to this unit and spoke, but in a way that no one but him heard it, `` We *are* you. We are *Sarimaru. *'' He steps onto the earth. `` This was our home world many thousands of solar revolutions, years, ago. According to your scientifics, you regard us as your extinct brethren— the Neanderthals.'' His voice was plain and high pitched, without emotion or inflection, and yet refined. 
 
 All weapons droop. More of the Neanderthals, the Sarimaru, exit the ship and adore the azure beauty of their long-lost home and at the Sapiens gawking at them. 
 
 A female Neanderthal steps forward, smiles at our guns and primitive air toys, and says, `` You always were the violent ones.''
