by Don Cook
TEXAS, USA
26 JUNE 6:59 AM CENTRAL TIME
“CONTACT COMSMOCOM IMMEDIATELY!” Khraa/Astra called out in her deep terrified sleep as she writhed in panic, which prompted Mike to run into her guestroom. “CONTACT COMSMOCOM IMMEDIATELY! CONTACT COMSMOCOM IMMEDIATELY! CONTACT COMSMOCOM IMMEDIATELY! CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT —”
“KHRAAVIE! WAKE UP!! WAKE UP!!!” Mike shouted in panic, as he grabbed Khraa/Astra and snapped her out of her writhing nightmarish slumbers, while Glenn, Val, Donny, Jim, April and Abby followed him into Khraa/Astra’s guestroom and watched in perplexed horror.
Khraa/Astra woke up, broke down, and cried.
“There, there, Khraavie” Mike said tenderly, as he lovingly embraced Khraa/Astra and gently stroked her hair to reassure her as she wept. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“Baby what?!” Val said, with a disgusted disbelief only a teenage girl could have when she sees something that betrays her every ideal. “What the hell’s going on, Daddy, and who the hell is this girlfriend of yours?!”
“That’s no way to talk to your father, young lady!” Abby shouted at Val.
Val, getting defensively angry with everyone, shouted at Abby in teen-diva tears, “THAT’S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY! YOUR FATHER WASN’T IN LOVE WITH A MARTIAN NOW, WAS HE, YOU BIG-ASS BLACK SUPREMACIST!”
“THAT’S ENOUGH, VALENTINA LUCILLA BONHOEFFER!” a mega-angry Mike shouted at Val. “I WILL NOT TOLERATE RACIST SEWER-TALK LIKE THAT FROM MY OWN DAUGHTER!!!”
Mike turned to Abby and said, “Ms. Marley, I am really, really sorry for that racial slur that my otherwise delightful daughter spewed out of her otherwise ladylike mouth!”
Mike turned to Val and scolded her harshly, “Val, I know you’re a far, far better girl than someone who’d spew out racist sewer-talk like you just did! Now Ms. Marley might not want to forgive you, given all the racial tensions in this country that have very, very badly hurt her and other people, African-American and otherwise. But I still want you, my daughter, to walk over to Abby and apologize to her for that line of bigoted bad-mouthing you just threw out. You hear?”
Val, totally ashamed of herself, nodded yes, then slowly walked over to Abby and sobbed, “Abby, I’m really very sorry for that ugly name-calling I hurled at you. It was wrong of me to do that. Can you find it in your heart to forgive the teen brat I am?”
Abby was bitterly torn between her radical black power past and her born-again Christian present. Mentally ping-ponging between angry past and loving present for a moment, she decided to let her love for Jesus win out, and embraced Val.
“Sure, baby” Abby said with grandmotherly tenderness as she embraced Val. “I forgive you. But what would really make me happy is if you went to your Dad and Miss Astra and apologized to them, too.”
“Thanks, Abby” Val said, as she gradually stopped sobbing.
She then walked to Mike and Khraa/Astra and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy, for razzing your girlfriend like I did. And Astra, I’m sorry for everything I just said about you.”
“Val,” Mike said, “I forgive you, baby.”
“Me, too, Val” Khraa/Astra said. “And you have every right to be suspicious, even paranoid about me.” She turned to Jim and said, “I know what we’ve got to do.”
“Sweetheart,” Mike said, “you don’t need to —”
“I do, Mike” Khraa/Astra said. “Your kids, the Stocks, Abby and the rest of the people on the ranch, they all deserve to know that I am —”
“Captain Khraa-Veh...” a female voice emanated from the miniaturized Blue 1 on the nightstand beside Khraa/Astra’s bed. Every Earthling present was astonished.
“This is COMSMOCOM to Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem, COMSMOCOM to Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem” repeated the female operative’s voice, just like in Khraa/Astra’s seemingly traumatizing nightmare-vision. “We have received and acknowledge your distress-signal. Contact COMSMOCOM immediately! I repeat to Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem, contact COMSMOCOM immediately!”
Khraa/Astra, knowing that actions might speak both louder and clearer than words alone, decided to respond to the COMSMOCOM operative across the light-eons of space between Earth and the Amkerian Capital City-Planet.
“This is Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem,” Khraa/Astra said with calm trepidation, “Deputy-Commander of the Kannatikan Exploration and Research Commission Planet Rubiaar IV Expedition. Am receiving you loud and clear.”
Everyone was astounded as tinny, rousing cheers of vindication sounded through Blue 1’s speakers. The COMSMOCOM operative said, “Captain, thank the god you’re alive! A lot of anxious souls turned blue back here and they’re finally breathing again!”
“Quiet down! Quiet down!” shouted Greeze over his COMSMOCOM staffers. “Khraavie, thank the Father-Creator, Redeemer-King and Spirit Supreme you’re alive!”
“Thank the god it’s you, Greezie!” said Khraa/Astra enthusiastically.
“I have a special message for you from Olymphalia, Priority Code Platinum Alph-One-Alph. We’ll patch you through. Standby.”
“Standing by, COMSMOCOM” Khraa/Astra said solemnly, knowing that “Olymphalia” was code for none other than the President of the United Star-systems of Amkeria.
“Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem,” Trombart said, “do you read?”
“Yes, Lord President, I read you at full” Khraa/Astra said, with her surrounding Earthly company becoming more astonished by the second. “Why hasn’t KERC Rescue Command or Rescue Services Kannatika responded to my distress-signal?”
“Khraavie,” Trombart said, temporarily getting choked up with uneasy emotion, which was rare for him, “Captain, there’s no easy way to tell you this. I’m sure you’re aware of Trudierre’s increasingly anti-Amkerian policies.”
“I am, Lord President.”
“It doesn’t get any better. Trudierre has reinstated your Dominion’s old War-Law Act as Level 5 of the Emergency-Law Act and invoked that new Level 5.”
Khraa/Astra was floored, realizing that it was exactly all-too classic Trudierre.
She then said somberly, “Sadly, Trudierre’s true to form.”
“And unfortunately, Khraavie,” Trombart said, “he’s got spies-for-hire poking their noses around Vaxerthony to find out where in infinity you are. And you know what it’ll mean once Trudierre’s hench-beings find your position — an all-out attack on Earth.”
The astonishment of Khraa/Astra’s Earthly companions turned to fear.
“So, Lord President, what’s your plan?”
“Since we’ve already determined your precise position,” Trombart said, “we will be warp-teleporting a small scout-advisory team in a teleport-capsule to size up the situation and to see what can be done. Your fighter-ship is a KF-18 Stingfly, right?”
“Yes, Lord President, but it’s strictly a sub-lighter with an eon of years on it.”
“We can up-fit your spacecraft to current star-traveler configuration with a smaller version of the warp-drive engine and weaponry that’s standard on our own F-18 Stingflies. We’ll teleport a team of eight: four men, four women. Admiral Makarrth will lead the team that will include his senior-most advisor, four VannKonnell-Duugborough factory trained tech-soldiers that will up-fit Blue 1, and two old friends of yours. They’ve been cleared through the Joint Security Directors Panel, and I thought you’d love to see a pair of familiar friendly faces.”
“Who are these ‘friendly faces’, Lord President?” Khraa/Astra asked, with caution lacing her voice. “Are you sure that teleporting these people and the star-drive is safe?! There may be quadrillions of light-years between the Earth and the Known Universe.”
“Fifty billion light-years, to be precise” Trombart said, leaving Khraa/Astra and her Earthling friends mind-boggled. “But distance in spacetime is irrelevant once you pinpoint a location using neutrino-based position-finders. As a scientist, you should know that.”
Khraa/Astra realized that Trombart was right, and was reassured.
/> “Lord President,” Mike spoke, “I’m Mike Bonhoeffer, an Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States here on Earth. I’m also Khraavie’s ‘dating-friend’, and I still love her very deeply. I don’t understand what’s going on fully, but if there’s any way we on Earth could help, let us know.”
“There is, Mike” Trombart said. “My team and those on... I believe you’re located at a vast land-spread called the Three-Cross Ranch, right?”
“Yes, he is” Jim said. “The name’s Stock, James Stock, and I own the Three-Cross Ranch. It’s also used for several clandestine purposes, namely to help security personnel who have been treated unjustly by our own government, high-security-risk fugitives who want a fresh start, and for defectors from anti-American nations who would otherwise be unsafe, even if they were free to walk America’s streets.”
“When it is precisely 12:00:00 PM in Earth’s Central Time Zone, James,” Trombart said, “we will teleport our team in a teleport-capsule the size of one of your smaller wood-log cabins. May we teleport our capsule to your helipad at that time?”
“Yes, Lord President” Jim said. “That will be fine.”
“The amount of space needed will fit within the helipad’s perimeter of size. And we would like some searchlights to surround the pad.”
“We’ve got portable searchlights,” Jim said, “but their size and power is small.”
“They will do, Lord — I mean, Mister Stock.”
“Lord President,” Khraa/Astra said, “call him Jim. He prefers it that way.”
“Then Jim it is. We can determine, using Captain Veh’s distress-signal network, your precise location with those lights. And Khraavie, your signal was ingeniously created and transmitted. In fact, your signal’s Border War of 1742 Decoding Protocol literally fried the entire Kannatikan telecommunications logistical infrastructure, so they could not locate you immediately. But they are piecing everything together, so expect Trudierre to act soon. That’s why I’m only sending the advisory-team at this time.”
“Given the current situation, it’s a wise move” Khraa/Astra said.
“But won’t teleporting your team be detected by Trudierre’s people?” Jim asked. “Or ours?”
“We have done successful long-range teleportation for our NISA operations in the past, Jim” Trombart said. “We’ve successfully used electronic deception technology for decades to place our secret agents onto hostile planets — socially and politically hostile, not environmentally hostile worlds like your Moon, or your planetary neighbor Mars.”
“And so,” Mike said, “your team will just ‘plop in from the sky’ to Earth?”
“That’s right, Mike” Trombart said. “And to all you Earthlings, the intentions of Amkeria towards your planet are 100 percent peaceful. Trudierre’s will not be. And given the reports Captain Veh has beamed to us, your kind and ours are indeed of the same Adam-and-Eve originating parentage. Think of this as our helping our Mother-world.
“We will be teleporting our team, as stated, to your ranch, Jim, at precisely midnight your local time. Until then, this is the President of the United Star-systems of Amkeria, signing you over to COMSMOCOM.”
“And this is Level-1 Admiral Vill-Greeze, signing off until midnight, your time.”
“Captain Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem,” Khraa/Astra said, “over-and-out.”
Blue 1’s radio went silent, as everyone tried to process what had just happened.
Donny wanted to tell Khraa/Astra that he still loved her and wanted her to be his new mother, but was too scared to speak up. Then, seeing that Khraa/Astra was also very scared, decided that the woman he wanted as his new mom needed to know that.
“Astra?” Donny said, still a little scared, “I mean, Khraa. I don’t care what planet you’re from. I still love you. And I still think you’d still make the best, most excellent mom ever.”
Donny turned to face Glenn and Val as if to stare them down, and told them, “And I don’t give a damn about what you guys think!”
“Now, Donald,” Mike scolded his son for using the “D-Word.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Donny said, as he ran to Khraa/Astra and gave her a big hug. Khraa/Astra was deeply touched into silence, as Donny continued, “but Khraa’s been a lot nicer to me than most women I know.” He then said to the extraterrestrial he wished to have for his mother, “Khraa, I love you. And I mean it when I say you’d be the best mom ever.”
Khraa/Astra was very, very deeply touched by Donny’s wish for her to be his new mother as she hugged him.
Choked up with emotion, Khraa/Astra said to Donny as she held him, “Thank you, Donny. I love you, too.”
“Daddy,” Donny said, “please don’t turn Khraa away.”
Mike, Glenn and Val were deeply moved by Donny’s love for Khraa/Astra.
“Don’t worry, son” Mike said. “I won’t, because I love her, too.” Mike looked at Glenn and Val, who were feeling guilty about doubting Khraa/Astra as he mildly scolded his teenage children, “And so do you guys — right, twins?”
Both Glenn and Val realized that they were bested by Mike and Donny as they realized just how good Khraa/Astra was truly good to them, and acquiesced.
Glenn said, ashamed of himself, “Sure, Dad.”
Val said, “Count me in, too, Daddy” Val said, humbled. “But please marry her soon — I hate long engagements!”
Everyone laughed themselves silly.
NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE AND SECURITY AGENCY (NISA)
RODD-YEFFREES LONG-RANGE TELEPORTATION BEAMER 51
KANAVBERK BASE, RENEGAS VII, UNITED STAR-SYSTEMS OF AMKERIA
26 JUNE 11:45 PM CENTRAL TIME (EARTH-TIME)
“Attention! Attention!” boomed the manly voice of the Teleportation Control Chief over the PA system of the cavernous Beamer 51 Entry Chamber. “Teleportation of Earth Mission Scout-Advisory Team Teleport-Capsule to commence in ten moments and counting. Repeat, teleportation to commence in ten moments and counting.”
“Are you ready, Velbie and Har?” Makarrth said to Velbya and Har, as each team member, spacesuited and seated in the teleport-capsule, made final uniform-spacesuit and equipment checks.
“Yes, Admiral” Velbya said. “Good to go.”
“I am, too” Har said.
“Stingfly star-warp drive engine packed and ready for up-fit, Admiral” said Technical Level-3 Warrant Officer Tranxa-Klahr, a 20-something female Protean covert operative-technician whose appearance was attractive yet also had a Barbie doll plastic flatness. “All personnel are ready for teleport.”
Since everyone on the mission to Earth was fastened securely into his or her seat, Makarrth said to the chief teleport-technician, “Okay, close it up!”
“Yes, Admiral!” the chief teleport-technician said with a nod-salute. “You heard the Admiral!”
The team closed the hatch that sealed with a pressure-whoosh, as the Teleportation Control Chief’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, “Attention! Attention! Teleportation in seven moments!”
PERSONAL HELIPAD, THREE-CROSS RANCH
TEXAS, USA
11:58 PM CENTRAL TIME
A ring of small searchlights, each one powered by an individual diesel generator and mounted on the back of one of a ring of 12 pickup trucks, encircled the ranch’s helipad, each aimed at the sky on a slight angle in the clear Texas night sky.
“All systems go for teleportation to Earth” spoke the Teleportation Control Chief’s voice through Blue 1, which was restored to normal size and located just outside the perimeter of parked searchlight-equipped pickup trucks that surrounded the helipad.
“Beamer 51 is ready to launch Teleport-Capsule” announced Khraa/Astra, who acted as Mission Controller at the Earthly end of the warp tele-transit operation, as the clock reached 11:59 PM sharp.
“Fifty seconds” Khraa/Astra said. Ten Earth-seconds passed. “Forty seconds.” Ten more Earth-seconds elapsed. “Thirty seconds… Twenty seconds... Ten seconds. Standby for capsule re
ception in five, four, three, two, one.”
A small log cabin-sized ball of bright blue light instantly blazed on the helipad, causing the area to shake about with a brief yet powerful blast of air. As the shaking and blowing stopped, the blue light quickly morphed into the similarly-sized bell-shaped teleport-capsule that was warp-teleported across billions of light-years of space to Earth.
The capsule’s door slowly swung open by itself. Admiral Makarrth exited the capsule first, followed by Velbya and Har, then the rest of the team. Khraa/Astra’s eyes lit up with joy at the sight of her old friends.
“Herbs! Har!” Khraa/Astra said, as she ran to greet the two. Khraa/Astra and “Herbs” embraced like long-lost sisters who had just met for the first time, as tears of sisterly sentiment and relief flowed like waterfalls from the two alien women’s eyes.
“Oh, Herbs” Khraa/Astra said. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
“I’m glad you’re alive, too, Khraavie.”
Khraa/Astra released Velbya and hugged Har like a brother.
“Glad you’re okay, too, Har” Khraa/Astra said.
“Likewise, for sure” Har responded.
As overjoyed as she was to see her old friends and colleagues, Khraa/Astra noticed they were wearing Amkerian uniform-spacesuits and not their standard KERC ones, which puzzled Khraa/Astra to no end.
“What’s with the Amkerian uniform-spacesuits, guys?” Khraa/Astra asked. “Why not wear your standard KERC suits?”
“We’ve signed on with the Amkerians as refugees” Velbya said. “It’s pretty bad back home.”
“I know.”
“And Trudierre’s got his war-knights ready for war with Amkeria” Har said. “The Kannatikan Armed Forces are just waiting for the right time and excuse to attack.”
“I see” Khraa/Astra said.
“Khraavie,” Makarrth said, “good to see you.”
“I suppose when you received my signal,” Khraa/Astra said, “you got things going for my naturalization as an Amkerian.”
“We did. You’ve already been naturalized.”
“Thank the god!” Khraa/Astra said, before more formal introductions were made, as the ranch hand-technicians carted the teleport-capsule over to a nearby shed.
