“Death to space aliens! Death to space aliens!” chant hundreds of people gathered outside a courtroom in Islamabad. They are supporters of politician Hanif Abbasi, who has just been sentenced to life in prison on a drug charge and is being bundled out of court by military commandos in an armored personnel carrier, usually used for transporting hard-core terrorists. “Death to space aliens, death to the ISI!” The cries get louder as the security convoy speeds away. Abbasi, a consistent winner in his Rawalpindi constituency, will no longer be able to contest the elections and like his leader, former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif (imprisoned last week on corruption charges), will spend a long stretch in jail—if not the rest of his life.

Abbasi’s incarceration and disqualification on Saturday was the latest in a series of actions that supporters describe as part of an elaborate conspiracy to rig the elections by “space aliens”—a thinly veiled reference to the country’s ubiquitous intelligence agencies and all-powerful military. This new phrase joins an ever expanding and dexterous political parlance in Pakistan used to refer to the military, known variously as “Farishtas” (angels) “the boys,” “the brass,” “the boots,” “khakis,” “the Pindi club,” or simply “them.” When journalists are abducted, newspapers appear with blank spaces on their editorial pages, politicians are coerced or forced to change loyalties, or television networks mysteriously shut down, it can safely be assumed, though not openly said, that aliens have paid a visit. Sometimes it’s not felt necessary to even spell it out; the message is communicated with a coy smile and two taps on the shoulder to indicate epaulettes. In Pakistan, what is said is often different from what is meant, but what is meant is rarely unclear. Even the casual Pakistan watcher will be aware of the term “The Establishment,” a nebulous formulation that broadly refers to a collection of power elites in the military, intelligence apparatus, and civil bureaucracy. It is widely known that any civilian pretender to the throne must first seek the blessings of “the Establishment,” a veritable Mount Olympus in the country’s politics. Thus has it always been and thus, many are determined, shall it ever be.

But something new is happening that goes beyond business as usual. If local human rights organizations, international watchdog groups and the mass of the country’s journalists of repute are to be believed, Pakistan is heading into the most rigged elections in its history. What is occurring, by all these accounts, is unique—not about one election alone but about a fundamental restructuring of state institutions. “We are facing an unprecedented assault by the Pakistani military on the freedom of the press, which is threatening our chances for free and fair elections” writes Hameed Haroon, CEO of the Dawn group, one of Pakistan’s largest media houses, which last year found itself in the line of fire after reporting on deepening civil-military tensions in the so-called “Dawn Leaks” saga. Dawn’s newspaper distribution network was brought to a standstill across the country and its television channel taken off the air. The government remained helpless and genuinely oblivious in the face of these crackdowns, unable to answer why this was happening—though it was clear to all that this too was an extra-terrestrial event.

Journalists like Haroon say the new regime of suppression is manifold and characterized not only by muzzling of the press but manipulation of the judicial process, enforced disappearances, targeting of political opponents, use of banned extremist outfits as strategic assets, and control over electoral procedures. The disqualification, conviction and incarceration of former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif on corruption charges and the decapitation of the political leadership of his party is seen as being at the center of this multi-pronged attack on democratic institutions.

It’s not just journalists making such claims. This week a senior serving judge of the High Court in Islamabad, Shaukat Aziz Siddiqui, shocked the country by claiming publicly that judges of the superior judiciary are under immense pressure from the ISI, Pakistan’s premier intelligence agency, to deliver desired verdicts in a number of cases relating to Sharif. “In today’s era, the ISI is fully involved in manipulating judicial proceedings,” Justice Siddiqui thundered in a speech to the Rawalpindi District Bar Association. “Their [ISI] personnel instruct the courts to constitute judicial benches at their will.” Siddiqui also went on to say that judges have their phones tapped and their lives are not safe. “We were given clear instructions that Nawaz Sharif and his daughter Maryam must be kept in prison until the elections are over.” Siddiqui’s outburst has been met with added amazement as he has long been considered a pro-establishment figure sympathetic to far-Right religious parties traditionally allied with the military, a sign of how many fault lines the machinations of the deep state are opening up.

Despite widespread claims of gerrymandering, the elections remain a two-horse race. On the one hand, there is a beleaguered but defiant House of Sharif, the political dynasty led by three-time former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, who will receive the election results in a prison cell—and on the other, his arch rival Imran Khan, who is seen as benefitting from the military-led dirty tricks campaign and is preparing to storm the ramparts of power imminently.

Sharif, who was convicted a fortnight ago by the Supreme Court and handed a ten-year prison sentence for failing to convincingly show a money trail for London apartments owned by his sons, is urging voters to come out and deliver a verdict that will break open the bars of his prison cell. In an audio message released from his Rawalpindi jail cell yesterday Sharif said: “I want to tell you that the time has finally arrived to give one final push to break the hold of those who have enslaved us.” The message, a bitter clarion call against the military, completes Nawaz Sharif’s transition from ultimate insider to renegade outlaw.

“If I have ever seen a full circle in politics (rudely put, your own creation turning to bite you in the ass) this is it,” tweeted Aamer Ahmed Khan, former editor of the BBC’s Urdu service. Most commentators agree that Sharif has had two political lives. Long considered a classic example of an establishment politician—Punjabi, traditionalist, button-downed, religious-minded, business friendly, pro-army, anti-India—an increasingly independent-minded Sharif has fallen spectacularly foul of the military after three spells in power, and joined his erstwhile critics on the barricades. Once anathema to liberal and secular swathes of society for his quasi-religious notions and autocratic tendencies, Sharif’s new allies across the political divide also hail him for his newfound social progressivism and re-think on the religion question.

Corruption cases against Sharif were set in motion last year after the Panama Papers revelations showed his sons were beneficiaries of offshore companies that held properties in London’s Park Lane. There is a widespread perception about the corruption of most politicians in Pakistan, especially the Sharif family, and their opponents have cashed in on this populist narrative. The Panama case culminated in his conviction, but there is a growing sense that Sharif is being punished for other things. His attempt to put former military dictator General Musharaff on trial for treason and his efforts to steer an independent foreign policy, particularly in regards to making peace with India, are widely believed to have put him on a collision course with the deep state.

The deck is now stacked squarely against the portly ex-premier, but his open defiance of the military and decision to leave his ailing wife on her deathbed in London to return to a prison cell in Pakistan has been met with large amounts of admiration. Sharif has walked straight into the fire and become an unlikely David for those that have always seen the army as the real barrier to democratic progress. “Pakistanis love a good fighter,” says journalist Changez Ali. “Most people understand the stakes, and despite their dislike of Nawaz Sharif, for many this has become a referendum on the role of the military in Pakistan.”

As Pakistanis head to the polls today, however, the most recent numbers indicate that Sharif’s PML-N party has slipped several points behind its chief rival, the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (Movement for Justice). As it stands presently, it is more likely that Sharif’s nemesis Imran Khan, oft introduced with the sobriquet “cricketer turned politician,” will now find himself “cricketer turned Prime Minister,” after a 22-year slog in politics spent mostly in the wilderness. For Khan, who was catapulted to the national stage by a wave of popular support in 2011, it has been a long time coming. A national hero even before he entered politics, having led Pakistan’s cricket team to a spectacular World Cup victory in 1992, there was scarcely anyone more beloved and desired in the country. His initial foray into politics, though unsuccessful, painted him in the public imagination as a gallant white knight up against a dirty and corrupt political system which would never let a good man in. From there on it has been a fairy tale in reverse.

While most understood that he would have to compromise with the system to some degree in order to get ahead, his willingness to collude with the most sinister characters on the political landscape has disillusioned many erstwhile supporters. For many years the cornerstone of his political message was that he would bring in new faces and banish old corrupt elites. It’s hard to stress how central this mantra-like pledge was to his early appeal. Today, most of his party is made up of what are cynically known as “Electables,” party-hopping career politicians, feudal landlords, and oligarchs who profess no loyalties or ideological leanings but hold the means to win elections. Most of these candidates are former MPs poached from the other major parties, the very people Khan has spent two decades denouncing as corrupt and rotten to the core. In a stunning recent admission Khan conceded that these Electables, also known as “Lotas” (a water receptacle used for anal hygiene in most Pakistani homes) are not people he can vouch for, but they are indispensable to his victory. In one of the most glaring recent such inductions Khan posed for photographs with a convicted gang-rapist turned politician as he welcomed him into the party fold. A social media storm ensued and the man’s membership was withdrawn soon after, but critics say this is one of many examples of shocking unscrupulousness currently on display from Khan’s camp.

Perhaps most controversial for many Pakistanis has been his slobbering support for the Taliban, who have killed over 70,000 civilians in the last decade but whom he describes as “misunderstood.” Khan’s consistent apologist role for the group and advocacy of “peace talks” led him to be nominated by the Taliban themselves as their representative in said peace talks with the government. At one stage he even appealed for the Taliban to be allowed to open offices in parts of the country to conduct negotiations—a statement he made while standing on the smoldering steps of a church in Peshawar, where 85 Christians attending Sunday morning mass had just been blown to bits by the Taliban. Khan’s deliberate obfuscation on the issue of militancy prevented any national unity on how to tackle the problem and resulted in many more lives lost until the military finally took action.

There are things to admire about Khan. His astonishing will to power and unwavering resolve are respected even by critics. There is no denying that he has been a revolutionary force in Pakistani politics and galvanized an entirely new generation of voters, particularly young people. But his blistering rhetoric, name-calling, regular assertions of dubious claims, veiled exhortations to violence and dog whistling on religious issues have also given rise to a culture of boorishness, conspiracy theories, hyper nationalism and rabid viciousness which is beginning to have a visible trickle-down effect. In a horrifying incident last week, a group of political workers from Khan’s party beat a donkey to a pulp after Khan compared supporters of Nawaz Sharif to donkeys. According to news reports, the group of cackling Khan supporters first wrote Nawaz Sharif’s name on the animal and then proceeded to kick, punch and rip out its nostrils “in jest.” The animal, which was also rammed with a car and tied up with ropes, has since died at an animal sanctuary where it was taken after the assault.

Imran Khan’s wafer-thin expediency and obsession with winning at all costs draw regular comparisons with Trump. “All that’s missing is orange hair-dye,” says Zarrar Khuro, a journalist and television show host. Like Trump also, Khan enjoys the Teflon effect. Very little seems to stick. A shocking tell-all book by his most recent ex-wife released days before the election paints a jaw-dropping portrait of Khan’s personal life. Reham Khan, who was married to Imran for less than a year, claims her ex-husband is desperate for power, hooked on cocaine, fond of sexual orgies, massively into the occult, has a clutch of illegitimate children, a penchant for gay porn, and is completely disconnected from reality.  The book has set tongues wagging across the country, but seems to have had no impact on his political campaign. There appears little that can stop Imran Khan now, but for many the dream has already gone sour.