"Invasion" commenced with a bang through "Last Day," delving deeper into its intricate narrative with "Crash," but then hit a roadblock of stagnant progression in the glaringly uneven "Orion." It resembled a worn-out retelling of "Lord of the Flies," featuring Casper and Monty, leaving viewers underwhelmed. Trevante's relentless harassment of the Afghan man, Kuchi (played by Aziz Çapkurt), who is nurturing, healing, and shielding him, while falsely accusing him of serving "goat piss," is exhausting to witness. However, the scene where Mitsuki efficiently takes charge of investigating Murai's fate brings solace, and Aneesha's increasingly ruthless approach to safeguarding her family amidst the terrorist specter swirling around them piques intrigue. Yet, overall, "Orion" failed to advance significantly, feeling more like a transitional episode necessary to propel characters from Point A to Point B. Couldn't it have possessed more vim and vigor?
"Orion" primarily revisits the locales introduced in "Crash," with the bulk of its runtime spent in Afghanistan and outskirts of London. Let's commence with Afghanistan, as the episode does. Trevante awakens buried beneath the sand, with his comrades vanished, possibly abducted by the alien entity they encountered – which had presumably earlier snatched the unit Trevante and his team were initially in pursuit of. A part of me speculated that perhaps the invading force deliberately targeted individuals in positions of power or influence, such as the military, astronauts, and those snobbish Long Islanders. However, recalling the nosebleeds suffered by both American and Afghan children, I'm uncertain if there's a definitive hierarchical method of attack. What did Trevante just endure? He's baffled, and now he grapples with a collarbone protruding through his skin and a dire thirst. Communications are down, rendering him unable to report the "unknown aircraft." Parched to the brink, he even hallucinates the woman he conversed with in "Crash." Thus, it's hardly an auspicious time to be stranded in the desert!
Enter Kuchi, who extends water to Trevante but is promptly met with a gun pointed at him for his trouble. Honestly, this becomes demoralizing to observe after a while. The language barrier prevents communication between the two, but "Invasion" finally translates an Afghan character's dialogue, allowing us to comprehend Kuchi's complex feelings towards the Orion constellation. He adored it so much that he named his daughter Oranus after it, but she recently succumbed to illness. "I don't care what's up there. I only care about what's not here," Kuchi remarks, serving as a broader commentary on our human-centric worldview. While I commend the portrayal of an Afghan character finally receiving some depth and personality, characterizing him solely as "This man suffered the loss of a child, thus he is empathetic" is as trite as the shirtless, greased-up American soldiers tossing a football in "Crash." Do you foresee Kuchi reappearing? I'm inclined to think not.
Beyond the confines of London, every pupil in Casper's field trip class has miraculously survived the harrowing plummet from the cliff's edge, yet their teacher, Mr. Edwards, bears the brutal brunt of the fall, his visage marred by shards of glass and pierced by a jagged rebar. Jamila, ever the ingenious one, swiftly applies a tourniquet to Mr. Edwards, but amidst the chaos, the children are a disjointed mess. Monty, embodying the very essence of a modern-day Joffrey, indulges in selfish behavior, not only monopolizing all provisions and duping Casper into divulging his heart-wrenching family circumstances, but also manipulating him into voting Monty as their leader. However, in a surprising twist, the newly-elected Monty extinguishes the fire meant to ward off the night's chill, leaving one to ponder: what dark scheme does he brew?
This enigmatic unfolding of Monty's intentions is counterbalanced by the more linear narratives unfolding in New York and Tokyo. Having left behind a New York City grappling with widespread power outages, Aneesha repeatedly comes to Ahmed's rescue, realizing anew, as she did in "Crash," that their wealth and status offer no shield against racial prejudice. With the news heralding the events as a "coordinated international attack," the largest terrorist assault since 9/11, the Maliks find themselves doubly vulnerable, targeted both by the invading force and by those inclined to brand Ahmed as "Osama" and assault him in a gas station parking lot. Despite Aneesha's herculean efforts—rushing to Ahmed's aid, stealing a car for their escape, securing them a hotel room—Ahmed sneaks out to profess his love to Amanda, earning him the disapproving gaze of the hotel front desk clerk, a sentiment shared by all.
Meanwhile, in Japan, Mitsuki is steadfast in her mission to prove that her communication coding bore no ill effects on her beloved Murai's final moments. She brazenly steals her boss's ID, slips into the communications room, and, with coworker Kaito trailing her out of solidarity, narrates her every move. Upon accessing the shuttle's video feed, she exonerates herself and JASA, revealing what was seen in "Last Day": one astronaut thought he spotted something outside, Murai dismissed it as "there's nothing there," and whatever struck the shuttle tore it asunder, hurling all three astronauts into the void and killing them instantly. Mitsuki further discovers something chilling—the eerie feedback from the shuttle resembles "Wajo," the same word echoing in Luke's mind. Indeed, as the news suggests, this is a concerted attack from somewhere afar. Yet, does it originate from within Earth's confines? It seems unlikely. The "raining metal" witnessed by Mr. Edwards is the perpetrator, and whatever its ultimate goal, its messaging remains eerily consistent.
