Poverty Rocks! (Rock n' Roll in Outer Space Book 1)

by Douglas Hardee

  Haskell looked over without saying a word.

  "Well, I'm sure she can patch things up. Lady has at least nine lives," said Jericho. He didn't know about his partner's torrid romance with Louise, but he had a feeling Haskell liked her more than he let on, maybe a lot more.

  "Looks like Louise is ready to do some space pioneering. She's onboard for the wild ride tonight," said Haskell looking at the window still in a state of disbelief.

  Jericho exhaled. "Say what?” He laughed and raised his hands in the air. "No shit, bro, what the hell.”

  Haskell looked at Jericho with a bemused smirk. "Zorbane asked her if she wanted to go with them. She accepted on the spot," said Haskell, still incredulous at the turn of events.

  "Man, that's a world record for falling in lust," exclaimed Jericho.

  Haskell looked stunned.

  "Man, she must owe those wise guys a bundle," said Jericho.

  "Yeah, she has a real gambling problem, and it finally caught up to her," said Haskell.

  "Well, she's on board the right flight. You won't find a bigger gamble than flying to a planet in a whole other galaxy with the US Air Force and the Zeon whatever their fuckin' air force is called out to stop you. Yeah, if she's that big a gambler, she'll be right in her element," said Jericho.

  Haskell laughed to himself and took another pull off the moonshine.

  They both began a low laugh, knowing that whatever Zorbane's infatuation with Louise was, the music-crazy alien was taking them out of their predicament. They, too, drank from a common well. Never mind how they had both arrived at this moment, from the first time they met in Fallujah as crazy kids, they had always shared an unshakeable belief that they were destined for something bigger.

  They stood side by side taking in the cool desert air.

  "Funny thing is, Jonathon and those scientist cats that Zorbane told us about, the people that boogalooed out to Zeon in the 60s, they were going there to spread peace, love and understanding. We're going to Zeon to promote sex, whisky and rock 'n' roll," laughed Haskell. He pulled a pint out of his jeans and offered Jericho a sip.

  "Yeah, they risked their asses for peace, tranquility and order. We're getting out of here to create the foundations for the creation of sexy music and mucho moonshine consumption, which, to my mind, are necessary spices for a life of adventure," said Jericho.

  As the desert sky darkened, the two buddies stared up at the stars, scanning them for signs of Zorbane's spacecraft.

  Haskell began to sing in a low baritone "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."

  Jericho smiled, looked at the time on his smart phone. "He should be landing in about five minutes, and he wants to di-di-mau as soon as we're on board," he said.

  Here was a second chance at life for the two men, in another galaxy, somewhere over gravity's rainbow.

  Chapter Fifty

  Barbarians at the Gate

  Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, and no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

  –Virginia Woolf

  Ever since they plotted together to take over the Council back in 1968, the Earthling Jonathan and his Zeonese counterpart Decleanus had been working together seamlessly to govern and manipulate the technocracy of Zeon to their collective will. Now, with news that Zorbane was possibly bringing back these insurgent Earthling mongrels back with him, there was no time left to lose. Despite Zorbane's family pedigree, his blue-chip academic career, his celebrity as one of the best pilots and athletes Zeon had ever produced, he must be discredited and destroyed with, what was the line in the movie, "with extreme prejudice?"

  Befitting his status as one of the legendary saviors of Zeon, and a distinguished political servant, Jonathan lived in one of the more beautiful enclaves of Zeon. His sprawling estate, completely sustainable and designed by one of Zeon's greatest architects, was perched high in the hills overlooking the Sea of Molare. Although all of Zeon proper was considered cultured and enlightened, this particular section of the country was the epicenter of sophisticated wealth and power.

  As he awaited Jonathan's arrival, Decleanus admired the view from the ex-Earthling's back deck as the servant brought him fresh tea. The cool marine layer that partially shrouded the sea was beginning to lift and the light from the suns created a shimmering light that illuminated the surrounding hills.

  Their relationship had gotten off to a rather rocky start soon after the contingent of Earthlings had unleashed the DDT that killed the mosquitos and lifted the malarial outbreak, which had almost extinguished life on Zeon. It seems that Jonathan, because he was seen as a savior from another planet, became a hero to the Zeonese. Not only did he help rid them of the plague of malaria, but he braved the journey from Earth to come to their rescue. And, to top it all off, he chose to stay and live in their planet! What a courageous, wise man. Decleanus could never tell them the real story behind the disaster. That it was he who ordered the destruction of the DDT. That he was an investor in its "green" replacement, RX3, and became unimaginably rich through that investment. He also could never tell them that Jonathan was a mercenary who kept the formula of the DDT where only he could get it: in his mind. No, it was best for all that the Legend of Jonathan remain common history in Zeon. But, secretly Decleanus was less than pleased with this Earthling's superstar reputation as their planetary savior.

  Now, on with our tale. Decleanus's older brother, Parrimore, was a clever, resourceful man, though without his skill for advancing through the labyrinthine bureaucracy of Zeon. His brother had taken a liking to Jonathan's beautiful Earthling companion, Evangeline Daughtry. Since Jonathan had the secrets to the DDT, Decleanus was aghast at his brother's flirtations with Evangeline. But they all pitched in and worked tirelessly with the Earthlings to get their civilization back on its feet. Since they had backed up their entire digital infrastructure in underground vaults in the capitol, it was only a matter of planning and organization before the great civilization of Zeon was humming along again.

  Through careful preparation and planning, they had been able to keep more than five million citizens underground and malaria-free. However, despite their best efforts, their provisions and essential supplies would have run out if not for the timely arrival of the Earthlings.

  Despite being only a planet of 30 million at the time of the Malarial Plague, Zeon's Stealth Event Horizon, combined with their small but very powerful nuclear arsenal, missile defense system and their isolation, made them practically invulnerable to outside invasion from other planets.

  In the entire known universe, from a perspective of wealth, health, technology, science, cultural control and adoration, Jonathan Richmond and Decleanus were, in the current Earth vernacular, "living the dream." They were Earth's tech oligarchs to the 10th power.

  The normally cool Jonathan strode onto his circular deck clearly agitated. Decleanus had never seen his friend and colleague in such a state. Sensing something unusual in the offing, his servant put down the tray of fresh tea and scurried off to the door before his master could dismiss him.

  Jonathan walked over to the railing and began to speak to the sea.

  "So you have an alcoholic ex-footballer, a street-wise con artist, a gypsy soothsayer whore and an overly precious Zorbane helping them invade our planet to dispense with their juvenile Earth culture. From Zorbane's broadcasts, which we can hear, but not stop, we can deduce that they come bearing the gifts of Earth's primitive religions, brain-numbing moonshine and stupor-inducing marijuana. And the coup de grace? That would be the crass, ignorant, primitive and electrified rock 'n' roll, which brings nothing to the aesthetic table. I left Earth some 50 years ago to escape that noise and its attendant debauchery, well the debauchery I participated in when I could, b
ut it was always and nothing but the exploitation of the masses, noise as an opiate to keep them ignorant. Yes, your great nephew, however brilliant he may be, wants us to regress, not to progress. He would prefer we devolve, not evolve," said Jonathan without nary taking a breath.

  Decleanus sipped his tea and looked at this genius railing like never before. He knew the Earthling had a temper, but he was like a fiery evangelist warning of the coming doom. How ironic, he thought, since he is a devout non-believer. In a less agitated state, Jonathan would appreciate that analogy very much.

  Jonathan walked over to the other end of his deck, never once looking back at Decleanus. He took a deep breath and continued. A clumsy mimic, he began to imitate Zorbane's vocal delivery.

  "We're gonna bring the Hooch Coochie Man front and center. Tutti Fruitti. Lucille. Long Tall Sally. The King. The Queen. They will all reign in the new free order of Zeon. Yes, these intergalactic sound bombs are going to change your heads," Jonathan said with sarcastic anger. He turned around and looked at Decleanus. "Who uses the word 'head' anymore, other than as a sexual connotation, that was popular 40, 50 years ago, where did he learn that?" said the host incredulously.

  Decleanus raised a glass of wine that the servant had wordlessly brought to the table. He took a long sip and began to speak. "I imagine he learned those phrases from his father, Ranno, who loved the speech, the parlance of Earth's fifties and sixties beats and rockers. Ranno is also on record as having said that he never listened to any music past 1976. He claimed that the period of 1920 to 1976 was the greatest epoch for contemporary western music since the prime of Mozart," said Decleanus with his dry, academic-like haughtiness.

  Jonathan cleared his throat and continued his oration. "Can you imagine? This callow boy is talking about the glories of primitive music to me? I marched in the streets with the great musicians of the sixties; Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, I broke bread with Rambling' Jack Elliot. I was serious about the music, about our possibilities of change. And then, the anointed one, Dylan, broke with us, sold us out, it's that simple. Now, after a lifetime of working with you and the rest to create a utopia of rationala, we are betrayed by one of our own! This misguided young man, perhaps inspired by his adrenaline junkie father, has decided that what we struggled so hard to eradicate, is somehow glorious and necessary to the creation of art," said Jonathan, now rising to the climax of his performance.

  "In fact, the only thing, the single, solitary thing we on Zeon ever considered worthwhile that Earth possessed was NPR; National Public Radio. It was government-controlled; calm, soothing, and very, as they say on Earth, crunchy. No cretinous rock 'n' roll ever reared its barbaric head on that station! We just added a P to the name, so that it stood for Nation Public Prosperity Radio, which we instantly adopted and set up for the betterment of our planet," said Earth's most powerful and famous expat.

  Ah, NPPR, Decleanus remembered that sensible bit of cultural appropriation. He often wondered if Jonathan was born on the wrong planet. It's often said that those not born to a place become the greatest of patriots for their adopted home, the Earthling Alexander Hamilton comes to mind.

  Jonathan then smiled his usual wry smile. The servant had returned with two more glasses of glorious smelling wine.

  Decleanus swirled the fine wine in its glass and exchanged glances with a now relaxed Jonathan. He then took another long sip of the excellent Mountain wine.

  "We have eyes on this motley crew, on Earth and in the Mountain Region. Yes, the rock 'n' roller Zorbane would love that word motley, wouldn't he? Other than their transmissions in flight, we are updated continuously on their whereabouts," said Decleanus with resolute certainty.

  Decleanus at last rose, turned and faced Jonathan. "They are Spenglerians, who epitomize Earth's American spirit of progress. It’s what the German philosopher Spengler called the 'Faustian’ spirit, a deep longing to explore the unknown and conquer the secrets of the universe. Dreamers, they are," said Decleanus.

  Jonathan nodded in appreciation of his younger partner's deep knowledge of his home planet, and his relentless pursuit of his wayward nephew. Family didn't matter when it came to power and control for Decleanus, he thought.

  "Yes, I'm quite familiar with Oswald Spengler. We will destroy this reckless enterprise in its nest," said Jonathan as the two exchanged toasts.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Intergalactic Pilgrims

  Life is a gamble, at terrible odds – if it was a bet you wouldn't take it."

  –Tom Stoppard

  Now, more than 50 years after the successful Operation PEST, which resulted in the eradication of the mosquitos and saved Zeon from extinction, Zorbane, whose grandmother was aboard that fateful flight back in 1967, would repeat the perilous mission. But this time, unlike PEST, he would be returning to a hostile planet, with no greeting party save the relatively unsophisticated Mountain People who had taken in Trax. But, unbeknownst to him, Trax was now a captive of the Shapers, betrayed by a mercenary sect of the Mountain People who spied on him for the Shapers.

  Yes, although advances in rocketry and aerodynamics had made his flight to Earth less hazardous from a purely technical standpoint, it was the return leg of the journey that had Zorbane apprehensive.

  And little did he know, but there were people tracking Jericho and Haskell with orders to alert the military to shoot down Zorbane's craft coming or going.

  Yes, Decleanus's spidery web had tentacles as far away as Earth, and he was determined, as was Jonathan, to keep these "inglorious, head-banging, rock 'n' roll fanatics" far away from Zeon.

  His great uncle always saw Zeon as a planet ruled by reason and science. A glorious, efficient civilization unvarnished by the crude tribalism and cultural depravities that pervaded almost every aspect of Earth's civilization.

  Yes, dear readers, a black man from Philly, a Cajun lady from New Orleans, and a white cracker from Mississippi we're hell bent on bringing a little musical and sexual mischief to Zeon, or get killed trying.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Ain't No Mountain High Enough

  Concerning Zeon's Mountain Region, imagine Earth's Louisiana's Atchafalaya Basin married to California's Central Valley. Mountains surrounding one of the most fertile regions in the universe, with wetlands as well, an agricultural wonderland. But, because it contained the "wrong" kind of people, it was cut off from Zeon proper. In a cultural sense, it was as remote to urban Zeon's Capital of Radiance as the Australian Outback is from London, England. They shared a common language and ethnicity, but were worlds apart in almost every imaginable way of life.

  The Mountain People planted, cultivated and harvested most of the food for Zeon, but were kept out of that area's affairs, politically and culturally.

  They were not allowed arms, so, there would be no revolt. Once they served their duty in Zeon's United Defense Services, they were required to turn over their arms to the authorities. But not all those arms were turned over. The Mountain People had managed to bribe some of the authorities with their wine and excellent food.

  But the airwaves were still free, and for every attempt at jamming frequencies, there was another work-around devised by some clever engineer who had evaded the occasional round-ups.

  How did Zeon come about? Well, the accepted scientific explanation was the same as Earth's: The Big Bang Theory.

  Billions of years ago, for reasons still not entirely clear, Zeon formed almost exactly like Earth, except for the aforementioned overall colder climate. That cooler climate might explain the homogenous ethnic makeup of the people.

  It's like Earth had a nearly identical twin planet that had developed independently, and, for better or worse, along very similar lines. The old joke in Zeon's Capital of Radiance was that Earth's God was
drunk when he created Earth. Then one day he woke up, realized it was a total disaster, and finally got it right with Zeon.

  Yes, there were Gods the primitive Mountain People worshipped or paid homage to, but cut off from Zeon, they were of little or no significance to Zeon's rulers.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Rebel with a Cause

  We Americans...are the pioneers of the world; the advance guard, sent on through the wilderness of untried things, to break a New path in the New World that is ours.

  –Herman Melville, White-Jacket, 1850

  Fortunately, there was a section of the Mountain Region, if Jericho, Louise and Haskell could reach it, where they could find safety, shelter, and food. And because these people provided some of the most prized crops to Zeon, they were not going to be messed with, for a while.

  Its chief visionary and leader was one of the original Earthlings who had signed on with Jonathan to save Zeon. Kurt Roper, son of Hans Roper, the dyed-in-the-wool contrarian genius who was disappointed in Earth but wary of the Jonathan Richmond cult.