Planet America s-2

by Mack Maloney

  It was for moments like these that Pater Tomm lived. So he sat in the park across the street from the grand church, nursing the free coffee he'd received from the nearby homeless center, intent on studying the people who went in and out of the place.

  He'd sat like that for several hours. The strange thing was, no one approached the place; no one came out. As soon as it grew dark, he'd stolen into these shadows where he waited now, as the police car idled past. The two cops had been eating something, and this only reminded Tomm that it had been ages and billions of miles since his last good meal.

  But first things first.

  Once he was sure that the authorities were gone, he picked the lock on the back door of the church and let himself in.

  But any excitement he'd felt in his heart drained right out of him as he took a long look around the inside of the cathedral. The altar was incredibly elaborate with much gold and silver in evidence. Finely carved wooden benches and a magnificent pulpit only added to the aura. Beautiful frescoes on the walls and ceiling. Marble for the altar rails and floor. A beautiful piece of architecture.

  But then there was the dust. It was everywhere. Not just a scattering; it was nearly a half inch thick on some of the pews, and it was as hard as stone on some parts of the floor. Hymn books lay decayed and rotting. He picked one up, and it just fell away, its fibers only adding more to the dust.

  Tomm sank into one of the pews and looked up at the altar. There was only one explanation.

  No one had prayed in here in many, many years.

  11

  The name of the highway was Route 66.

  Hunter had been driving it for the past four days, finding it shortly after leaving Mayfield — and Ashley-behind.

  Route 66 was more or less a straight highway, going west. It was well maintained, clean, pothole free, lined with trees or multicolored desert brush in many places. It also featured numerous dips and bumps. He'd literally sailed through the air after hitting a few of them. The Firebird had a little wing attached to its rear end; perhaps its function was to stabilize the car whenever it left the ground. He didn't know. Either way, it made for exciting driving.

  He'd passed many strange things along the way. A huge barn with a rounded top. A leaning water tower intentionally built to look like it was falling over. Near a place called Amarillo, a line of Cadillacs buried halfway into the ground. Near a place called Tucumcari, a motel shaped like a gigantic mushroom. In Arizona, a huge canyon, spectacular, and older than anything Hunter had seen so far on this tiny planet.

  He loved going fast. The road was smooth, no one was in front on him, no one was behind. Flying several light-years a second was a gas, too, but this was different. This was moving in a different way. Cars had begun to fascinate him. A machine that traveled on rubber wheels, used them not just for taxiing like those on his flying machine, but for actually going somewhere.

  What a concept!

  The open highway. The fresh air. Pedal to the metal. It all made incredible sense to him now. Driving at precisely 160 miles an hour, roof down, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around a bottle of Seagram's…

  Yes, this was freedom.

  The night before, he'd pulled off Route 66 near the big city of Tulsa and made a bunch of new friends in a bar down by the river. It was there that he'd traded a music-producing device found under the dashboard of the car for some currency and six bottles of Seagram's whiskey. His new friends drove motorcycles, and some were nearly as huge and hairy as Zarex. Hunter had spilled his guts to them about Ashley, and they took pity on him. They told him not to dwell on her. It just wasn't worth it. But he missed her. Missed her, even though he didn't really know her. Many times he wished that she'd come to the hill that night. Many times he had wished that she was here with him right now. Would she have thought of any of this as having fun? He'd never know.

  Everyone gets their heart broken by a blonde eventually, his new friends had told him.

  He'd just had his.

  He drove all night after Tulsa, all the next day and into the next night. Past miles of controlled vegetation, then grassy fields, then the desert, then over some enormous mountains where he'd seen snow, even though it was obviously not quite winter. Then came more desert, more mountains, then many, many hills.

  During this stretch, he'd stopped several times for fuel. He was adept at interacting with the citizenry now. Everyone seemed friendly enough. His overgrown hair and erupting beard passed for high fashion at some of the stops along the way. Dealing with the coinage was different than the aluminum chips used throughout Galaxy though. The exchange of money out among the stars was far more low key. You needed something, you gave someone a few chips, and whatever you wanted was yours to keep. Here, on this little world, people seemed a bit more interested in getting the currency and a little less concerned that what you were getting was of the highest quality for the price.

  A strange little quirk.

  So was he on the wrong planet?

  After almost a week and more than a few face-to-face encounters with the natives, the truth was, he still didn't know.

  That didn't mean he disliked the place. To the contrary. He was getting to like it very much. But not for the reasons he would have suspected.

  The people here really didn't know very much, beyond the basics of life, anyway. And they weren't very curious, either. Even though they sat in what had to be one of the most spectacular locations in the Galaxy, no one seemed to have any pressing desire to learn anything more about the great star roads beyond. Or even what was happening just beyond their own atmosphere.

  But after four days on the road and just as many bottles of Seagram's, Hunter had come to the conclusion that there was freedom in all that, too. Ideas were what weighed you down. The less you had to carry around with you, the less the burden became. That was freedom. Or a type of it, anyway. And while it was not something that, given a choice, many people he knew would want, here on this planet, it was almost seductive. For someone who felt like he had too many ideas stuffed inside his head, living on a world like this might just be the ideal thing to do. With such people, Hunter could relate.

  Or maybe there was another explanation. Maybe he was just stuck inside some long, elaborate dream. Or maybe he was in the middle of a mind-bender, after drinking too much slow-ship wine. And lucky for him, there were girls in his reveries.

  Or maybe he'd just come home and still didn't know it.

  Deep thoughts — or at least they seemed that way now as he left Flagstaff behind and began his ascent over the Sierra Nev-adas.

  Open another bottle, he told himself.

  Over the mountains was a place called California.

  He reached the ocean early the next morning. To get there, he'd driven down off a descending series of hills. At some points, the stars overhead seemed so bright, they lit his way even more than the car's headlights.

  About an hour before dawn, he entered the city of Los Angeles. It seemed like a very nutty place: jammed with people, cars clogging roads and bridges, surprising at such an early hour. The city was remarkably clean, though—sparkling almost. Every street was lined with magnificently grand trees, all bearing long palmlike fronds, and many of the sidewalks seemed made of gold.

  Beyond the city, he found the sea. It was bright blue, with high waves crashing against miles of pristine beaches. He discovered a place to park up a beach road that led to a cliff that overlooked one stretch of beach. Again, the natural tendency for him or any starman was to seek the highest point around. The cliff looked out over a place called Santa Monica Beach. Even though it was still a bit chilly, the beach was quickly filling up with thousands of scantily clad girls.

  Hunter was there when the sun came up. Sitting on the hood of the car, the last of his Seagram's bottles in hand, he saw out on the clearing horizon, just barely within sight, something very surprising.

  It was the skyline of a huge city.

  And it looked familiar.
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br />   Now how could this be? The only big cities he'd seen so far were miles behind him. Then it hit him: When he'd taken Ashley on the joy ride, they'd passed over a place called New York City. It was a huge metropolis that at the time reminded Hunter of Big Bright City back on Earth. This place had hundreds of high buildings; they had flown between them. There was also a huge green statue of a woman holding a torch high over her head in a bay near the jungle of skyscrapers.

  Hunter strained his eyes now, and sure enough, he could see this statue way off in the distance, nearly hidden by the ocean mist and the picket line of tall buildings.

  Could this be right, though? He closed his eyes and saw the canyons of New York City roll as if he and Ashley had just flown between them. But all that had happened back there. He looked east, over the hills to the cloud-filled sky, as if just over those mountains was where Ashley lived and just beyond that was the grand city of New York.

  Now he turned back toward the water, and to the vision on the horizon. And then he started laughing. The statue of the woman with the torch was in the harbor of New York City, and he knew New York City was on the east coast of the planet's only landmass. Yet, here he was, looking at it across this expanse of water.

  How could that be? There was really only one explanation; it seemed crazy, but at the same time, he knew it made sense. This hadn't been as much a recon mission as it had been a circumnavigation. Because if that was New York City he was looking at just across the sea, then he'd not only crossed over a major part of this country, he'd nearly driven right around the planet.

  Hunter spent the day parked up on the cliff, nursing his last bottle, looking down on all those girls, the expanse of blue water before him, and of course at the distant light reflecting from New York City. The sea became very busy with boats and other seagoing craft. During the warmest part of the day, Hunter took off his shirt and remained stretched out on the hood of the car, simply watching the never-ending parade of people and things go by.

  He fell asleep a few times, woke to turn more toward the sun, swig from his bottle, adjust his shirt as a headrest. Night came again, and the lights of New York shone even brighter. All those strange stars appeared overhead again with the necklace of heavenly bodies lighting up the sky here just as it had over Mayfield.

  Though he tried many times to resist it, Ashley was never very far from his mind. Again, strange in that he didn't know her very well. His night with her was just a blur to him, as he was sure it was to her. The way they met, their joyride, the night spent on the hill. It was the nature of these things that they all seemed hazy to him now, just a splinter of time, lasting a single heartbeat or just one deep breath, but not much longer than that. But it had left him with an aura of sorts. A buzz, of good feeling, unrelated to the Seagram's. Or so he hoped.

  Yes, he missed her. How much? Well, almost as much as… as…?

  Hunter suddenly sat up.

  That girl back there. Way back there. On Earth. The daughter of O'Nay. The Princess of the Galaxy? What was her name again?

  Xara.

  Of course, Xara…

  He laughed nervously, then took another swig from the Seagram's bottle.

  That was a funny moment. He'd almost forgotten Xara's name.

  It was just a second later when he detected the distinct feeling of cold steel resting on the back of his neck.

  He turned slowly to see an enormous gun barrel pointing right at his nose. Another was aimed at his temple. Two cops were staring at him from behind the triggers. They were wearing blue uniforms, funny hats, and dark glasses.

  "Don't make any sudden moves, partner," one of them said.

  "No problem, partner," Hunter quickly replied.

  They told him to climb off the car, then pushed him facedown on the hood where he was frisked up and down his body.

  "We've been looking for you for quite a while," one cop said.

  "Really?" Hunter asked drunkenly. "What for?"

  Both cops laughed.

  "What for?" One mocked him. "What the hell do you think?"

  The two policemen took out a pair of shackles and began to put them on Hunter's hands when suddenly, another vehicle roared up the steep beach road. It was larger than the car the two policemen had arrived in. It was all black with many windows, which were also tinted black.

  Six men jumped out of this vehicle. They were all dressed the same: in blue suits, white shirts, and blue ties. Each man was also wearing sunglasses. They rushed over to where Hunter and the two cops stood, immediately removed the cuffs from Hunter's wrists, placed him in a pair of their own, then started to lead him away to their vehicle.

  That's when one of the two cops said, "Wait a minute. Who the hell are you guys? This is our collar. We've been looking for this mook for a long time."

  One of the suits just pushed the policeman out of the way and helped shove Hunter into the back of his vehicle.

  "So have we," he growled at the cop. "He's crossed state lines, so that makes it a federal crime."

  But the policemen continued to protest.

  "State lines?" one said. "We're busting him for loitering. For carrying an open container in the car. And for public drunkenness. What do you guys want him for?"

  The guys in the suits all laughed.

  "Well, we got him for auto theft," one said. "And suspicion of murder."

  Part Three

  Moon 39 vs The Love Rockets

  12

  A welcome calm had settled over the tiny jungle moon in the past few weeks.

  The people who had previously fought the now-vanquished battle star from the depths of their underground space fighter base now walked about their world's surface without worry. No more concern about being discovered by the enemy. No more need to contemplate last-ditch battles.

  They were free, thanks to two strangers.

  Just what had happened in their underground base that day not so long ago, when the strangers came through looking for directions and wound up saving their skins — well, no one had quite explained it yet. Maybe it was something that would never be explained adequately. Angels from heaven was the current prevailing theory.

  But whoever the heroes were, the people — taking the lead from their grateful Princess — had erected a shrine of sorts on the spot inside the underground cavern where the strangers had so suddenly appeared in that hour of dire need, to save the day.

  This shrine now featured a plaque of pure diamond-cast elevated slightly above the taxiway. Flowers, incense burners, and private notes of thanks were clustered around it now. The underground base wasn't used very much anymore. But just to lend a solemnity to the place and preserve the memory of the two mysterious men, the Princess had assigned two guards to watch over the site, day and night.

  It was just after sunset-midnight, that being the complete setting of both the tiny moon's mother planet and its sun, when the vision appeared.

  There was at first a bright flash that lit up the huge underground chamber. Then, as the two astonished guards watched, mouths agape, three men suddenly appeared in their midst.

  They came from nowhere — literally. They were holding hand-sized devices that seemed to be taking readings from the floor and the space around the plaque. They were oblivious of anyone watching them.

  The three interlopers were dressed very oddly. Two wore heavy black spacesuits and no helmets. They had shaved heads but very long, pointed mustaches. The third man was quite elderly and was dressed in a bubble-top spacesuit that was ancient a thousand years ago.

  The three men were in the middle of a hushed conversation.

  "My readings indicate that they were here before they went on to the moon in the Sigma-TKE system," the man in the bubble top said, shouting through a tiny door near his mouth.

  "As do mine," one of the other men said. "The gamma decay here is tremendous, but the readings were stronger on Sigma-TKE."

  "This then was their eighteenth touchdown after Zazu Zazu," the third man said.
"We can just double back from Sigma and pick up the stronger gamma decay trail from there."

  Finally, one of the guards stepped forward and rattled his ceremonial weapon. Only then did the three men look up and realize they were not alone.

  They all stared at each other for a long moment. Then the three men each bowed slightly.

  One said, "Sorry. Our apologies to you…"

  Then they blinked out.

  The Planet Erox 357

  Their names were Jixxy and Minxi, and they had climbed the mountain every night for the past two weeks.

  They were from the Mutaman-Younguska star system, a place known for its beautiful women, and Jixxy and Minxi were all that and more. They had been transplanted here recently after successfully escaping the planet Tonk, along with hundreds of their sisters.

  Their savior, the Great Klaaz, had selected their adopted planet very well. Erox 357 was a paradise, temperate, sparsely populated, with plenty of natural food and easily built shelter. All of the refugees from Mutaman-Younguska were happy with their new home, and this meant the Great Klaaz was very happy.

  But it was not all fun and games here — mostly, but not all. As soon as they were settled, Klaaz suggested it would be wise that they all meditate on the stars every chance they got. The reason? To get a better perspective on how they'd arrived here. He suggested they look back toward the red-halo nebula, the place that now marked where the destroyed system of Mutaman-Younguska used to be. Another evening body they should contemplate was right across the sky from them: the nearby star system that contained the planet Tonk, shining like a blue ball in the warm night sky. It was important that they never forget these places from whence they came, Klaaz had told them. That's what Jixxy and Minxi were doing this night: remembering the past.