To The Earth

by Benedict Alex

  Alex Benedict

  To The Earth

  Fonts by «ParaType»

  Translator Andrey Smirnov

  Cover designer Alexander Suvorin

  Cover designer Maxim Obyedkov

  © Alex Benedict, 2017

  © Andrey Smirnov, translation, 2017

  © Alexander Suvorin, cover design, 2017

  © Maxim Obyedkov, cover design, 2017

  This is an English edition of the story, much talked of in Russia. Scandals, intrigues and politics in a fantastic wrap.

  Two intergalactic friends travel along the planets they used to know in the past. An action, grim humor and easily recognizable leaders of the global powers will make reader’s day.

  Recommended for all Milky Way planets. Prohibited everywhere else.

  ISBN 978-5-4474-7357-0

  Created with Ridero smart publishing system

  Contents

  To The Earth

  Chapter 1. The Dumble

  Chapter 2. Symberia

  Chapter 3. Hermaphrodia

  Chapter 4. The Earth

  Chapter 1. The Dumble

  We flew a little longer than it was supposed to be. We had to drop in to the intergalactic diner, since a flight through the whole Milky Way took a huge amount of time.

  The owner of the diner hasn’t changed at all over the last hundred thousand common galactic years. At least that’s what we told him. Generally, he was still a lovely person and the only upsetting thing was that he refused to do his third neck’s tightening (of course, it sagged a little — age is taking its toll).

  We were bored, so, at the decline of our lives, we started out to cross the space planning to see sweet and beloved corners of the universe where we haven’t been such a long time. Together, we were going to see the newly discovered worlds and the worlds that have stepped over the Stone age since our last holiday visit.

  The Dumble became one of these worlds. We noted the level of technical progress the inhabitants have achieved, when we were just approaching it — these guys were crossing their solar system with all their might, dawdling on their tiny spaceships in the same funny manner as they messed around in the mud of stinky caves a while ago.

  — Have a look, Herma, they remind me of you when you were young, — I jabbed my companion and friend into her ribs, — same small, young and stupid, messing around here and there looking for better life instead of exploring the universe. And what have you done through 50 thousand years, up to your age of majority? You were too busy growing your boobs and begged your dad for planets to dance on.

  — Go to a black hole, Frod! — Herma bit me.

  — It hurts indeed! — I was insulted and sent a batch of cosmic energy to the injury. — Let’s stick to business. Let me remind you, that we need to collect maximum information on evolution of peripheral planets. Have you read something useful from their mass media? I’ve just downloaded their language data to the aura interface.

  — Yes, of course. Look, I think you should go to Crapmerica and I will have my feet on Dumbkraine. Now they are in a quiet, but rather an open war with Grosia. This is indeed a great deal of useful barter sharing — so many emotions and faecal emissions!

  — Good idea. I am downloading geo location to our interfaces. Remember, that we need to update the Earth data and this is our last destination. We shall take records of everything we do on our way for personal archiving. Don’t even think of sending it to your retarded friends on cosmobook.mw[1], even privately.

  — Piss off, Frod! Don’t get smart! You probably forgot your business trip to the Andromeda Nebula, didn’t you? How shouldn’t your remember that coming round on Magellanic cloud and having a hangover for 120 years on the way home.

  — You seem like a hangover expert, don’t you? Try a brand Orionic “Skywatcher” — and you will feel sick the whole 300 years, — I scratched my forehead thinking of my wild youth. Now let’s get back to our planets. Meet me in the bar on Green Men Str. in Hashsterdam at the same our tomorrow. We’ll be collecting information on technical achievements and social development.

  ***

  “Which train will you use yourself and which one will you choose for your mom? — asked the newspaper headline. A government official slouched in an armchair, reading the article about recent testing of new trains. Ballsenukh, the prime-minister of the Dumbkraine, also known as western SIA[2] agent vexatiously grunted as he finished reading the bottom line.

  “The next elections are coming but we still have no idea where to get gas for car construction plant” — he scratched his red bald pate. At that very moment, a deputy, creaking and grunting, stumbled into a room. “What a bitch!” — the deputy thought — “this motherfucker is gonna take my door down soon. Such morons never get enough of crapmerican currency”.

  — What do you need? — Ballsenukh screamed formidably, spraying spit on the table.

  — They need you there urgently! Not you, actually, but seeing you, — the deputy started stammering — a person called Herma. She said “Listen, kiddo, let’s come to understanding, I have flown too long to mess with all this bureaucracy, getting acquainted with ideological idiots”.

  — How interesting, — the prime-minister looked angrily but had an a spark of interest in his eyes — where did she ever fly from?!

  — My Lord, for pity’s sake! She says she is from the center of the Milky Way.

  — Get out of here, moron! Let the blessed one in and assign a couple of bodyguards for her. I’ve no fucking idea what else to do.

  — Which one of you is a bigger moron is a big question, — Herma flied into the room smiling with all her 52 teeth, — If you be so kind and let me in without permission.

  — You have already done tha… — Ballsenukh haven’t finished the phrase pulling his face: Herma has sent a thought form right to the bald agent’s head. That head has instantly damped with sweat. It almost started to let out steam.

  The prime minister got it all at once and his eyes became rounded in horror.

  — Everyone out of here! — he screamed drawlingly and loudly throwing his shoe on the heels. The cleaned shoe, however, came across the closed door — everybody flung out from the room so harshly.

  — It was a good training! Have my respect! — Herma whistled surprisingly like a typical human, — It came out far louder than any human could do.

  “This is a great mother fucking pie hole” — a bald man was staring at the heavenly guest with admiration thinking with his mouth shut and his heart getting cold.

  — Prime-minister, I can hear everything. You’re gonna have some problems.

  ***

  — Is everyone on your Dumble as dumb as you? — I walked about the oval room, looking at the pictures on the wall.

  — Why should we nickel-and-dime? I’m not Herma to drag around with second-hand politicians. Bardak Islami sat at the huge desk having his black shifty eyes dropped down.

  — Tell me, crapmerican, — I went on walking around the president on the colorful carpets — what’s the power? Is it money? Your SIA agent tells the same is as well. But I think the quark bomb is power. I remember hanging out on the cool Sun with my girlfriend once. Taking off from there we dropped a little quark bomb. You know what has happened? The star has lit up again and will be lighting for million years. Want some bomb up your ass? The quarks are power, mister Black Star. Bardak cast his eyes lower down. Now he looked like a child, caught jerking off. Like he has just opened a website on milf section and at this moment his father bounced into the room ready to lash him for that.

  — Look at my face, my alien fellow, when we’re exchanging thoughts! — I hit his sweaty nape with my tail, — It makes you wanna spew!

  — I don’t do anything! — hi
s blurred eyes were running down the walls very quickly, — this is all counsellors’ fault!

  — Hey, calm down, — I cut Islami down to size, — Do you want to say you think, that the world government with illuminati and masons has legalized faggotry? Do you? What the hell are you doing instead of developing the country’s power and settling the political relations?!

  Bardak hid his face behind his chocolate hands, starting to sob and loudly blow his nose. Round shoulders of the old man were jittering.

  — So what is it, that you do?! That’s right… You build mining tunnels and make the rear-wheel drive vehicles go through them.

  At this moment mr. Black Star completely bursted into crying and let his head fall down the table.

  — Darn you! — I angrily spitted — How the fuck can you be an example to follow? You should have better chosen a woman for a managing post. I’ll try to settle it. And you should better stop whining and go sleeping.

  Bardak has slowly made his way to the door sniffling and looking back in fear.

  I hocked a loogie on his back with relish.

  — You, bitch of hell! I’m gonna bring you some more troubles! You can’t even make Grosia fall apart! How on earth you could think of accessing it through the Dumbkraine? You screwed it all up. Mutin rides bears and you, monetary scum, can’t even ride a bike normally! Get out!

  ***

  It was quiet on a Green Men Street. We chose a small cosy cafe towardly offering fresh brand cakes.

  Herma slouched in a deep soft seat crossing her legs, upper one on a lower two. sucking a locally made coctail from the big rose bucket with relish. Before that, she had to take a hose out of the lawn. Straws in the bar are too small.

  — You see, this rogue didn’t like my mouth — my girlfriend recalled an unpleasant story, — so I teleported him right to the Mutin Gremlin.

  — And what do they have there?

  — Just like in any third country exploited by the first world. Satisfied with abundance of foreign currency so that the tongue is tied from happiness, looking at tomorrow, but no one can do it. Nothing but a feeling of arrogance and pseudo solemnity in the eyes of the planet. Pawns in the war against themselves. Raree show puppets. With the directors being a nation, stagnating in hypocrisy and becoming swollen of fast-food fat, being in deep foreign debts and therefore trying to start a massacre on a big theaters of war. Our diagnosis is: the cakes here are fantastic!

  — Let’s continue our flight, Frod!

  [1] Milky Way’s domein

  [2] Secret Intelligence Agency

  Chapter 2. Symberia

  — Listen, Herma, should we necessarily take a physical shape of the third density? Last time my tail was fouled by some scum. When I recollect it, space and time turns inside out in me.

  — What’s a sissy! You may hang on the orbit or download some media, if you’re such a mollycoddle. You’re always ahead of the whole galaxy blatantly showing off, when there’s any chance to booze with girls, but when it’s time for business — you disappear in the bushes and put your avian appendix away!

  — What the hell are you saying? When was that? — I felt my decent feelings insulted.

  — Should I remind you? Did you forget something, a swindler?

  — What?

  — I will remember for a long time when I took you away from the cosmic police station, when you kicked up a row on the Cancer. We pursued you from the Gemini to the very Leo and this is all because somebody grabbed underage girls! Made them drunk and seduced them! They’ve just turned 25 thousand years by that moment!

  — Who is to blame if they have a different legal age threshold? — I quickly turned away painting my aura with a paint of shame — Herma recollected one of the most unpleasant things. Not because I perverted the girls, but because I spent several ages at the police station without any clothes — and the pictures of it have flown across the whole Cosmobook. Both officers and common soldiers, and everybody and his uncle took selfie pictures with me and uploaded them on the net.

  — And do you also remember stopping by at the Earth without me recently?! Made the girl pregnant and still believe that people think it was from the holy spirit? Shame on you! They say, your son have been walking on a water a long time in search for his dad.

  — Come on, stop it! I understand I wasn’t right. Let’s better get ready to the landing. We’re almost arrived.

  ***

  — Symberia. The name comes from the imperial country occupied the whole planet — Herma was reading out the brief facts. — The power is inherited. And we came here just at the moment the next price accedes to a throne. Emperor Babylon passes the reigns of government to his elder son Demon nicknamed “A Bear”.

  — What else? — I was interested.

  — The climate is rather unfavorable. Medium temperature under the line is +10 degrees centigrade. By the way, is Anders[1] your mate? I heard he hung out on Earth sometimes, too.

  — Yep.

  — Anyways, north and south poles have never been visited by anyone. Temperature sometimes reaches -120 degrees. How come life be originated on this piece of ice?

  — Flora and fauna?

  — The only fucking furs. And fish in the sea. Mammoths, bears, panthers on the shore, nothing really worthy. Where are we going?

  — Let’s go right to the party without wasting time.

  ***

  Bear races across the snow fields were outstanding. Me and Herma, having drunk much vodka, were crossing the white desert chasing each other with ex-president Babylon. Demon couldn’t join us — the traditional feast in banya with girls was not yet over. “That’s ok, I’ll join him later” — I consoled myself inly. Talking to my friend about my past adventures made me think I was still very young. Moreover, it inspired me of some new adventure time. Who else could make these snow chicks hot that much?

  After having enough racing we were set for going back to the apartment. We were almost sober and I wanted to keep the party up. That’s why I hurried everybody up since I was bored by these white and cold plains, and the bears were tired.

  At the entrance to the cattle camp (I wanted to use a term “horse stable” but didn’t figure out any worthy substitute) we were met by a black servant:

  — Vodka is served, sirs! Welcome to the table! We’ll park the bears ourselves.

  As he said this, another two black men came out of nowhere for help. The animals started to rumble angrily.

  — They still can’t get used to the exotic stuff, — Baby[2] commented, rolling his eyes in discontent.

  — Let me ask, — we were tremendously surprised, — where did you get Negros?!

  — Not Negros, Nekhroes. They came from the neighbor planet Nekher. Wanted to conquer us, motherfuckers, — the ex-president spited disparagingly, — we quickly took them down and made them clean bear shit. Baran, come here!

  Nekhroe’s foreman scampered towards him looking down, silently grabbed the reins and carried the bear to the stall.

  — Well, gentleman, — the ex addressed to us, — let me join the successor in banya. The girls have charged the besoms, we’re gonna have some steam-bath and booze.

  Talking me into things like that doesn’t usually take long — in a second I was rushing stumblingly. Herma followed me close on my tail arm in arm with Baby with sarcastic grin on her face. He was looking at her in anticipation and complacent smile didn’t leave the corners of this thin lips.

  [1] Anders Celsius

  [2] short name of Babylon

  Chapter 3. Hermaphrodia

  — This time you don’t need to put on a human shape, — Herma gave me an “Anti-hangover’s injection, — and you wouldn’t be able to do that anyway. You look disgusting.

  — Very funny, — I screwed my face, — Be careful! It hurts indeed!

  — Have some patience, honey — You’ll look super new. Nobody made you get that much wasted, and moreover, made you fuck all these girls in banya. And it wasn’t enough — yo
u hit on the negro chicks in the dormitory.

  — I see, you like bugging me so much! So why can I go without human shape? — I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. The medicine started to have effect and I got much better. The only incredible feeling of shame kept on taking over my sore head.

  — Now, we are reaching our test planet. Do you still remember one?

  The relief was immediately gone, I got much worse. Do I remember?.. It’s impossible to forget that all. No hangover sufferings can be compared with this shame I feel every time I remember the incident of green years.

  When we were young, me and Herma sometimes had fun reproducing the similar species. We spread our seeds all over the galaxy outskirts trying to crossbreed our kinds. It worked only once. And the planet, we were lucky on, we called in honor of ourselves — Hermaphrodia. And our kids became hermaphrodites.

  All of this made us think, that even a “friends with benefits” type of relationship was not for us. Since that time we have been just friends and all we allow is a rare virtual sex.

  — Herma, it’s all because someone decided to put in educational settings all over the continents! “May our children grow up smart, escaping the evolution stages” — that’s what you used to claim. What has come out of it?!

  — Oh, stop it.

  — I won’t stop it. “Kids” grew up smart, educated, having all of the advanced technologies — started to look for their mom and dad so energetically, that in their search they have fucked all the neighbor civilizations. There are legends, still circling around in some of them, about some hermaphroditic gods debauching both men and woman.